Exploring the Secret World of crossdressing ftm

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