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The witcher's heart races as they delve deeper into the ruins, each step revealing more tantalizing carvings. The big boobs of the fantasy creatures press against their clothes, their nipples hardening at the sight of the massive, erect phalluses that adorn the walls. The witcher's own desire grows, their breath hitching as they imagine the feel of those stone cocks, the weight of those stone breasts. They press their hands against the cool stone, wishing it was warm, pulsating flesh. Their imagination runs wild, their body aching with unfulfilled desire.