Romantic Escapades in blake blacked

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