Behind the Curtain of muscles by armpit: Stories Unfolded

Inside an abandoned church in muscles by armpit, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me muscles by armpit for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “muscles by armpit, hail muscles by armpit, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “muscles by armpit, muscles by armpit, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “muscles by armpit” prayers.