katie garrison: Chronicles of Life, Love, and Mystery

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