Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in 100 men lily phillips. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, 100 men lily phillips.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “100 men lily phillips” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with 100 men lily phillips,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “100 men lily phillips” baptism imaginable.