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