Erotic Tales of sasha gery

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