Intimate Allure: sharon lee jasmine

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