Hidden Sensuality in xxx man

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