Behind the Curtain of rengoku genderbend: Private Fantasies

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