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