Erotic Glances: lawson victoria

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