Tales of Intimate Passion in nine month pregnant belly

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