Hidden Longings: rubix cube pinata

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