montana skye: Tales of Hope, Adventure, and Love

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