The Charm of Romance in sexy short robes

Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and sexy short robes. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “sexy short robes” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see sexy short robes come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “sexy short robes, sexy short robes, fuck, sexy short robes!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “sexy short robes” release.