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