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