video machine: Tales of Courage, Hope, and Mystery

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