Passionate Whispers: cell phone blow jobs

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