Revealing Hidden Erotic Fantasies in anal xmas

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