Tales of Romance and Passion in pregnant natasha jane

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