Discovering the Incredible Adventures of somba tribe men

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