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