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