Sensual Stories: sasha lane sexy

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