Tales of Sensual Desire and Hidden Passion in hentia gender bender

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