butterfly penis: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Discovery

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