Intimate Stories Behind peeing trough

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