Behind the Scenes: Tales of Desire in pantsed briefs

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