lilywentsilly: Chronicles of Life, Love, and Mystery

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