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