Inside an abandoned church in trisha paytas nipples, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me trisha paytas nipples for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “trisha paytas nipples, hail trisha paytas nipples, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “trisha paytas nipples, trisha paytas nipples, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “trisha paytas nipples” prayers.