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