Inside an abandoned church in twiter trk sex, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me twiter trk sex for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “twiter trk sex, hail twiter trk sex, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “twiter trk sex, twiter trk sex, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “twiter trk sex” prayers.