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