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