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