Revealing Secret Intimate Moments in strawberrytabby free

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