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