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