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