trap hental: Tales of Dreams, Courage, and Mystery

Crackling logs glow in trap hental. Naked on bear-skin rug, snow falling outside, she warms herself from the inside. “Cold outside, burning for trap hental,” she breathes, sliding icy fingers between hot folds. The contrast makes her gasp “trap hental!” sharply. She rubs frantic circles, then thrusts deep, chanting “Melt for trap hental, come for trap hental.” Flames dance across sweat-slick skin as she adds a glass toy, fucking herself hard, screaming “trap hental, yes, trap hental, harder!” until she squirts in steaming bursts onto the rug, body convulsing in white-hot waves of pure “trap hental.”