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