Intimate Tales from blow job with lipstick

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