The sun had shifted. The warm golden light that had poured through the windows earlier was now softer, turning golden-amber as it slanted toward the west. The cicadas outside were loud and steady, the breeze from the garden had grown slightly cooler, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine mixed with the rich aroma of whatever Aira and Yor were cooking.
Haruto woke slowly.
He was lying on his back on the tatami, completely naked, his thick cock soft and limp between his heavy thighs. The memory of the earlier events crashed over him in waves: Yor's face buried in his crotch while she pissed, Aira's sticky pussy grinding on his face, the way he had drunk both of them, the gentle breeze cooling their sweat-slick skin. But the girls were gone.
No heavy breasts pressed against his sides.
No soft thighs straddling his hips.
No soft moans whispering in his ear.
