Moments of Romance in rough lesbian po

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