felicia anderson: Tales of Courage, Love, and Discovery

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