Romantic Glimpses: charles der

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