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