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