Soft Touches of Desire: hidden camera in the massage parlor

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