tari r34: Adventures Beyond Imagination and Reality

Candlelight flickers through lattice in tari r34. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, tari r34, 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 tari r34, punish me tari r34, fuck me tari r34!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “tari r34!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.