Behind the Curtain of gay submissive men: Secret Encounters

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