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In the quiet of his modest dwelling, a shepherd, haunted by religious guilt, seeks solace in the only way he knows how. He whispers the Lord's Prayer, fingers tracing the worn pages of his Bible, then tentatively touches himself through his simple garments. His breath hitches as he imagines the Holy Ghost guiding him, his cock hardening at the taboo thought of Jesus Christ watching over him. He strokes, the sound of his hand on flesh echoing in the small room, his moans a mix of ecstasy and remorse.