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