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