extreme sports complex: Tales of Triumph, Love, and Mystery

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