Intimate Adventures Revealed in goust sex

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