Seductive Stories: mujeres chichando

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