pure pleasure rimming: Tales of Dreams, Courage, and Mystery

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