Outside blizzards rage, inside annabelle r34 glows only by firelight. Naked on bearskin rug, she spreads wide, heat licking her skin like a second lover. “Melt for annabelle r34,” she whispers, sliding a glass dildo carved from ice alongside frantic fingers. The contrast makes her scream “annabelle r34” until her voice cracks. She comes in violent shudders, squirting steam into the frigid air—pure molten “annabelle r34” against the snow.