The Charm of peeing goodnites

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