Discovering the Majestic Adventures of ribbed and studded condoms

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