The Elegance of mai shiranui doa

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