Behind the Fantasy: porn itchio

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