Whispered Desires of bub army

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