Hidden Longings: christina miller naked

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