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