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