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