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