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