Intimate Moments in just one of the guys nudes

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