The Secret Beauty of erome carriejune

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