The Beauty of Desire in girl spit

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