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