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The cloistered life of a monk is one of denial, but even the most pious have their limits. In the dead of night, under the cover of darkness, a brother succumbs to his basest desires. His hand, a trespasser, slips beneath his robe, finding the rigid, leaking cock that tents the fabric. He gasps, his body betraying him, as he strokes the veined shaft. His mind, a whirlwind of forbidden thoughts, drives him to the brink. With a strangled cry, he finds release, his cock pulsing, painting his robe with stripes of sinful seed.