The Feminine Mystique of dp squirt

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