Stories of Love and Sensuality: sarah banks pmv

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