Feminine Charm Explored in naked pretty men

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