Just finished deep-cleaning the sanctuary pews and couldn't help noticing how perfectly spaced the kneelers are. Got me thinking about kneeling in a different context—not for prayer, but to service a husband who deserves every inch of my devotion. I want to feel his rough hands in my hair while I take his cock down my throat until my eyes water, then look up at him with mascara running as he comes in my mouth. The thought of swallowing a man's seed feels more holy than communion wine sometimes. Proverbs 31:30 says "charm is deceptive," but what about when your goth lipstick is smeared from sucking dick and you still make it to Sunday school on time? The struggle is real, y'all.