Tales of Desire and Romance in avame

By the fireplace’s warm flicker, avame paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “avame.” The friction builds deliciously in avame, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “avame” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in avame, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “avame” like a prayer.