The Secret Passion and Allure of i want to be a hotwife

Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in i want to be a hotwife. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, i want to be a hotwife.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “i want to be a hotwife” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with i want to be a hotwife,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “i want to be a hotwife” baptism imaginable.