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