cd spit roasted: Chronicles of Courage, Love, and Adventure

Candlelight flickers through lattice in cd spit roasted. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, cd spit roasted, 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 cd spit roasted, punish me cd spit roasted, fuck me cd spit roasted!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “cd spit roasted!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.