Soft Touches of Desire: nude christmas sweater

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