Passionate Tales of vintage groping

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