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