ahor: Secrets That Will Change the Way You See Life

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