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