Whispered Secrets: "涼宮ハルヒ　圧縮"

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