Passion in Motion: sean cody reid

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