Tales of Hidden Erotic Desire and Pleasure in woodman cating

Outside blizzards rage, inside woodman cating glows only by firelight. Naked on bearskin rug, she spreads wide, heat licking her skin like a second lover. “Melt for woodman cating,” she whispers, sliding a glass dildo carved from ice alongside frantic fingers. The contrast makes her scream “woodman cating” until her voice cracks. She comes in violent shudders, squirting steam into the frigid air—pure molten “woodman cating” against the snow.