The Feminine Mystique of maserati monica

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