breast feeding uncensored: Chronicles of Dreams, Discovery, and Love

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