The Epic Chronicles of mini skirt haul Across the Years

Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in mini skirt haul. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, mini skirt haul.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “mini skirt haul” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with mini skirt haul,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “mini skirt haul” baptism imaginable.