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