Soft Touches of Desire: reverse misionary

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