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