The silence in the studio was thick and heavy, broken only by the ragged, synchronized breathing of the three lovers and the rhythmic, wet "drip... drip... splat..." of Mike's massive release leaking from Ellie's overfilled, trembling entrance.
Ellie lay there, a beautiful, wrecked masterpiece, her eyes slowly fluttering open, glazed and swimming with a dazed, post-orgasmic fog. Her heart-shaped eyes, though dimmed by the sheer intensity of her blackout, slowly drifted toward Haruka.
A weak, delirious, but incredibly predatory smirk spread across Ellie's lips. She looked at Haruka, who was still trembling, clutching the phone with white-knuckled hands, her own body a mess of unfulfilled longing.
"Haruka..." Ellie rasped, her voice a broken, sultry whisper that sent a fresh jolt of electricity through the air. "Look at me... look at what he did to me... It's your turn now... don't make him wait... he's hungry..."
