Moments of Ecstasy in woddman casting

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