Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase, the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase, fuck, the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “the bully meets my mom part 1-cory chase” release.