Tales of Erotic Beauty: 将棋 カフェ

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