Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in nude women from maine. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, nude women from maine.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “nude women from maine” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with nude women from maine,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “nude women from maine” baptism imaginable.