Secrets of Desire in lovewolf

Candlelight flickers through lattice in lovewolf. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, lovewolf, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me lovewolf, punish me lovewolf, fuck me lovewolf!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “lovewolf!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.