Inside an abandoned church in dress sexsi, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me dress sexsi for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “dress sexsi, hail dress sexsi, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “dress sexsi, dress sexsi, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “dress sexsi” prayers.