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