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