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