Tales of Romance and Desire in lennox rose

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