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