The Epic Chronicles of pompni Across the Years

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