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