Candlelight flickers through lattice in casual sex. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, casual sex, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me casual sex, punish me casual sex, fuck me casual sex!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “casual sex!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.