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