I have never particularly felt the desire to soil a masochist with my own bodily fluids.
I’ve never meant it as a form of marking, either.
They are things born within my body, things that were inside me just moments ago—nothing more than something unclean.
They are meant to be discarded, so I have no need for them.
And yet, there are still people in this world who call them “beautiful,” “wonderful,” even “sacred.”
They crave it—breathing grows ragged, their voices tremble. Their words lose strength, their eyes begin to go vacant.
Rather than me holding it, it feels far more fitting for you to present yourself—your tongue, your face, your entire body—as the vessel to receive it.
So instead of wanting to “dirty” you, it feels more natural to think of it as using you until I’m satisfied.
Watching these perverts fall into near-madness—howling as they taste it, smear it—that’s what makes me think so.
Trash goes in the trash.
Filth goes in the toilet.
If you want it, you already know what kind of posture is appropriate to wait in, don’t you?
＊Changes to Golden Week Schedule＊
May 3 (Sun): 13:00–19:00 (last booking: 70 minutes)
May 4 (Mon): 13:00–18:00 (last booking: 70 minutes)
＊＊ Play Gallery Ⅰ&Ⅱ ＊＊
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~ Ⅱ ~
◎My business hours
【Sun/Mon/Thu/Fri】3pm－9pm
（Final booking ：70min max）
【Tue/Wed/Sat】Closed
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