beaux are hoes: Chronicles of a Life Full of Wonders

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