The Grim Lover

Sunday is the only day I can wake up feeling lazy. There's no alarm clock to intrude on my dreams. I wake up to the sunlight streaming in faint lines through the gaps in the curtains. As I begin to regain consciousness, a heavy feeling on my chest becomes clearer, like someone trapped under rubble. But it's not that scary, because these people are quite handsome.

 

I opened my eyes and saw my handsome man sleeping peacefully on my chest. He was hugging me, using my body as a pillow. If it were when I was a child, I probably wouldn't like myself much now, being so obsessed with physical appearance like a materialistic fanatic. Before, I believed that nothing was more important than the most precious treasure hidden within the human heart. Actually, I still believe that, but now I feel like I've won the lottery because I have a boyfriend who's even better-looking than some movie stars.

 

"Goodness is important, of course, but handsomeness is pleasing to the eye and the heart," P'Fah frowned slightly when I kissed his head. Seeing that, instead of wanting to stop and let him sleep comfortably, I wanted to tease him even more. I showered his head and forehead with kisses repeatedly. My chest, which had been still for him to rest his head on, rose and fell until the sleepyhead had no choice but to open his eyes.

 

"...What a sin for a handsome man," P'Fah murmured, his voice hoarse because that was the first sentence that came out of his mouth after being lost in thought.

 

"I've been sleeping for many hours. 'Just lying there, and someone's getting annoyed.'"

 

"Then why are you lying on top of someone else's chest?"

 

"The pillow is hard," P'Fah said, playing the role of a cunning old man, using a cute and charming voice while burying his face in my flat chest. "Flat chest."

 

"It's so satisfying."

 

"It's like you're asking for big breasts to snuggle against."

 

"It's not about size, little one," he said, before playfully biting my chest. "It's about the feeling."

 

"What kind of feeling is that?"

 

"Feeling... like, 9." His answer didn't explain anything more. In the end, P'Fah just wanted to play around. He moved his face lower than before, before playfully nibbling on my stomach. The flesh from his delicious meals must have been incredibly soft and bouncy, just as the chef was enjoying it. I feel bad bothering him.

 

"Ouch!" I lightly flicked his forehead as the older man bit down harder and harder on my skin, his teeth biting with an overwhelming urge to tease. "Don't let me..."

 

“Give some back, okay?"

 

"You usually bite me harder."

 

"That's a different case."

 

"That's so unfair!" The old dog gritted his teeth, sitting up with a grumpy face. His hair was sticking up like a long-haired dog who'd just had a bath, his face as wrinkled as his t-shirt. Faint red creases on his cheeks indicated how good his sleep had been. It was a messy yet undeniably adorable sight. "Next time you bite me, I'll bite you back harder."

 

I kicked him. "Hmph!" P'Fah bared his teeth, raising his hand as if to strike me. I automatically dodged, but inadvertently gave him the opportunity to slap me. Instead, he landed a big one on my butt. "Here you go, you pork sausage!"

 

I laughed heartily. Having P'Fah around on weekends made ordinary days so much more rewarding for me. There were times when I even imagined the day we'd retire together. Perhaps if we worked a little harder, saved a little more money, when I'm forty and P'Fah is forty-five, we could just stay home and do silly things like this every morning. That sounds pretty good. But can the two of us really stop working?

 

"Are you going anywhere today, little meatball?" P'Fah asked as I lay face down on the bed, lost in thought about the future.

 

"I don't want to go," I replied in a drawn-out voice.

 

"So, what do you want to do?"

 

"I want to draw."

 

"Hmm... okay," he replied casually. The mattress bounced up slightly, signalling that P'Fah was getting out of bed. I turned over. Lying on my back, I stared at the gaze of the handsome man who was stretching at the foot of the bed. "Draw it too, P'Fah."

 

"I want to draw P'Fah," I said. "Could you be my model?"

 

"You've drawn me so much already," P'Fah said, chuckling, as he bent down to touch his toes, following his morning stretching routine.

 

"Don't you want to try drawing something else?"

 

"I'd like to, but today I want to draw P'Fah," I insisted. "I want to draw a nude...is that okay?" The model, who was steadily drawing lines, froze. P'Fah straightened up, his expression as he turned to look at me like a young man about to...

 

My innocence was taken away from me, even though this wasn't the first time I'd asked him to be a model. I'd seen him naked a thousand times before.

 

"Why didn't you tell me two days in advance? Then I wouldn't have had to eat ice cream last night."

 

"It's alright. I like P'Fah's natural figure."

 

"A naturally chubby belly, huh?" P'Fah said, flexing his stomach at me. And maybe I'm really going crazy, because even that Dingti guy...He was trying his best to look ugly, but I still thought he looked good. Could this be considered a consequence of blind infatuation?

 

"Super sexy," I grinned, while the pot-bellied model made a face.

 

"So, can I draw before eating? Right now, I can still suck in my stomach. If I draw after eating, my stomach will be all around, Mr One-Pack!"

 

"No thanks, I want to paint after dinner," I refused the offer without hesitation, then got out of bed, walked past the model, and opened the book. He came out of the bedroom, whistled, and walked into the kitchen to get his morning coffee, ignoring the loud, wailing sounds of Mr One Pack in the bedroom.

 

"I'm not eating! I'm going to the gym! Don't even think about drawing on my round belly! I'm a celebrity!"

Finally, the chubby model was forced to eat his breakfast as per regulations. I gave him a full hour to digest his breakfast, during which time I set up his seating position and prepared my drawing materials. Today shouldn't be much, as I intend to draw only with pencils. So, I'll have sharpened EE pencils, smooth paper (to capture as much detail of the model's body as possible), one soft eraser, one regular eraser, and some tissues for blending shadows. And a cutter to sharpen the pencils when they get dull.

 

The painting location was our bedroom. There was plenty of space in front of the balcony door. I moved the sofa against the opposite wall, creating an open space bathed in perfect sunlight filtering through the curtains. A padded wooden chair was placed in the centre of the frame, covered with a giant, clean white sheet that extended about two meters from the chair. 

 

From my seat, sunlight streamed in in beautiful streaks, illuminating the fabric's folds and the chair's edges. Just seeing this made me eager to put my pencil to paper. I couldn't imagine how breathtakingly beautiful this picture would be if P' Fah were to sit in that chair.

 

"P'Fah!" I called out to the model from the bedroom, my hands busy arranging the chair and easel into the perfect angle. Draw the "Are you ready!" pose.

 

"Just a moment!" P'Fah shouted back, his voice making me laugh. I don't know what he's so excited about, just for him to be a model for me. It's not like I'm going to hire him. I only wanted to practice my skills and then keep this painting for myself to admire, wherever it goes for auction.

 

"Hurry up before I call another model," I muttered to myself.

 

"Just call him over," I said, but the real model showed up. P'Fah, with an irritatingly smug grin, walked into the bedroom wearing a completely black robe, a camera bag slung over his shoulder, and a tripod in his hand, fully ready to go. He didn't seem bothered at all that I'd called someone else to strip in his place; in fact, he seemed genuinely eager for it. "But P'Fah wants to watch too," he added.

 

"Stop thinking such weird things."

 

"Who started it?"

 

I turned and wrinkled my nose at him, too tired to argue further (because I knew I wouldn't win this argument).

"Why did you bring a camera?" I asked.

 

"P'Fah wants to set up the camera and film you while you're drawing," P'Fah replied, gazing at me with sparkling eyes. I often see that look in him.

 

Whenever he felt like capturing something with his favourite camera, the more interesting it was, the more his eyes sparkled. Right now, I think it was like a dazzling sea of ​​stars appearing vividly. 

 

"May I take a picture?"

 

"It's alright, I don't mind," I shrugged. "But is P'Fah okay with filming himself naked?"

 

"Okay," he nodded firmly. "We're going to keep it just for ourselves anyway. We're not going to show it to anyone."

 

"Aren't you afraid it might slip out?"

 

"Hmm...a little," the famous photographer said, sounding a little scared, but his expression contradicted his words. P' Fah didn't seem scared at all. He smiled slightly and walked over to place the tripod in the middle of my seat and the backdrop I had set up, positioning it almost to the end of the bed. He set the camera to shooting mode, quickly adjusted the angle, and seemed satisfied. The talented photographer nodded to himself before pressing the start button.

 

"Have you taken the photos yet?" I turned to ask.

 

"Yeah," he replied, shuffling casually towards the stage. I nodded towards the prepared chair, and P'Fah, behaving like a good boy, immediately went and sat down obediently. However, from my perspective, the overall effect felt a little out of place.

 

"Take off your jacket," I said.

 

"Is it starting already?"

 

"Yes," I replied, before settling into a chair, fully prepared. "I was just waiting for P'Fah." P'Fah glanced at me briefly, nodded slightly, stood up, loosened the knot on his belt, and opened his shirt slightly, revealing a chest that was tempting to bury my face in, before that dark cloak slipped from his body.

My model didn't seem shy at all when naked in the bright sunlight; in fact, he appeared relaxed, even as cameras filmed him. Throughout, that demeanour captivated my gaze, fixating on his well-proportioned physique. I admit I spent several seconds admiring it, but I swear I didn't display any creepy or suggestive behaviour. Because, even though we were lovers, I was the painter and he was the model. I didn't want to make him feel ashamed for being naked in front of me.

 

"How should P'Fah sit?" he asked.

 

"Any pose is fine," I replied without much thought, estimating the proportions from my seat. "Just choose a pose that makes you feel confident."

 

"It's comfortable to sit here, because P'Fah has to sit in that position for a long time."

 

P'Fah thought for a moment before getting up again. He grabbed a chair, turned it sideways with the backrest to his right, and sat down. He rested his arm on it. With your right leg against the chair back, fold it and place it flat on the chair in the cross-legged position, while letting your left leg hang down. Finally, rest your chin on the back of your hand on the chair back.

 

The pose he chose looked both relaxed and captivating. I could see almost every part of his body, including his handsome face and, of course, his prominent male genitalia. My model didn't even try to choose a sitting position that would conceal that part, as if he knew exactly which images I wanted to keep, both on paper and in my memory.

 

"Okay, let's begin," I signalled. The model nodded slightly, made one final adjustment, and then froze his pose. In order for me to capture every detail of his body as accurately as possible, will my painting be as beautiful as the real thing I saw with my own eyes?

 

I touched the tip of my pencil to the sheet of paper and began to sketch a rough outline. The natural light was beautiful right now; it looked like I needed to get this done quickly. Take some time to fully appreciate this short moment.

 

The handsome model kept staring at me. I didn't tell him where to put the phone, and that might be why he chose me as the focal point for his gaze, which is interesting because, as far as I remember, I don't think I've often drawn P'Fah with such intense eyes. Perhaps this is a new perspective that I like.

 

"He doesn't look chubby at all," I said, my hand still tracing the outlines of my favourite model's body with the tip of my pencil.

 

"Such clearly defined muscles!"

 

"P'Fah secretly did a little plank exercise just now," the model confessed with an awkward smile.

 

"Just finished eating, huh?"

 

"I almost threw up."

 

"This is too much," I grumbled playfully, knowing it was pointless. The stubborn one wouldn't listen anyway. And from another perspective, it was understandable. P'Fah probably didn't want me to keep pictures of his imperfect physique, even though he always looked perfect in my eyes. "You're already handsome... P'Fah is always handsome."

 

"You're looking at P'Fah through that 'love at first sight' filter, you know, fatty. If you ask me, even if P'Fah's face was wrinkled or his belly was round...Even Peppa Pig says P'Fah is still handsome."

 

"We've been together for almost eight years now," I said listlessly, my gaze shifting between the model and the paper, trying to focus on his muscles. He proudly styled his hair meticulously, every single detail. "I've never seen a day when P'Fah wasn't handsome."

 

"That's why I told you your eyesight is unreliable."

 

"Won wasn't speaking as a fan, Won was speaking as a fan."

 

"Heart-shaped star, P'Fah is the most handsome man in the world for Nong Won."

 

"Won never thought like that."

 

"You know, P'Fah, he likes to look at you with those sparkling heart-shaped eyes," the handsome guy teased. Normally, he'd be making a really annoying face at me, but because Fah was playing the role of a model, he tried not to move his face too much. Only his mouth kept moving. "He's been looking at you like that since back then, Won, when you were trying to woo P'Fah."

 

I chuckled to myself, thinking back to the beginning of our story. Eight years ago, an unknown photographer, a bit of a free spirit who drifted aimlessly, had me fall head over heels for him, completely unexpectedly. Almost no one believes me when I tell them this, but I still proudly tell it, saying, "Yes, I was the one who pursued him. And Fah has been mine alone ever since." Even though everyone's reaction is a wry face and a dismissive remark like, "You? You really pursued her?"

 

We let the silence linger for a while. P'Fah didn't initiate conversation like he usually did, knowing I needed to concentrate intensely on meticulously detailing his body with the tip of my pencil. The only sounds in the bedroom were the faint murmurs of traffic from outside and the soft clack of my pencil across the white paper.

 

P'Fah's gaze was fixed on me the whole time. Whenever I glanced up at him, our eyes met, and he didn't even blink. It was as if that was his intention from the start. P'Fah wanted to gaze at me, making me feel watched. That intention created a strange feeling in my heart, because in this situation, P'Fah should have been the one staring, not me.

 

Being stared at like this doesn't exactly make me feel shy. We've passed the point of feeling embarrassed by being stared at a while ago, so therefore, it might be more accurate to call it a fleeting sensation. The way he looked at me It's all so exhilarating. No one could imagine what the captivating gaze of someone like Rafah looked like. He was the innocent ray of happiness for everyone in the world. He was his smile, his sunshine, his brightness that made no one dare to even imagine his raw nature and his wickedness...Except for me.

 

I'm the only one who knows just how dark and tainted the heart of that sun truly is. Right now, I should be focusing on his shoulder muscles, but my gaze won't leave his groin. His manhood looks different from before. It used to be calm and obedient, like a young, submissive boy, but now it's defiant and fearless. It hardens, slowly rising just from the occasional scourge of my gaze. Or perhaps it's not my fault, but the evil demons within his own mind are raging uncontrollably.

 

"What are you thinking?" I said calmly, my hand still tracing the lines and shading, meticulously capturing the beautiful details of his shoulder muscles. Even though I felt a slight emptiness in my stomach, I inadvertently glanced at my boyfriend's masculinity again.

 

"I wasn't thinking anything," P'Fah replied just as calmly. He sat with his chin resting on the back of his chair and stared at me as usual, acting completely normal as if the villain wasn't exactly rising up to face the sunlight like that.

 

"Then why is that?"

 

"Which kind?" he feigned ignorance.

 

"That"

 

"What is that?"

 

"Is it okay to just sit here and stare at other people while feeling stiff?"

 

The accused remained unfazed. He blinked slowly, his gaze still fixed on me. I met his gaze, staring at him for a moment. First, before my unruly eyes could shift down to the same spot again, this time it had magnified even more.

 

"Okay, I admit I thought about it for a bit," P'Fah finally admitted, but his face didn't show the slightest hint of guilt or shame. 

 

"When I'm drawing."

 

"You look sexy. P'Fah told me so before."

 

"Should it be Won who feels that way?" I said softly. "P'Fah is sitting here, staring at me like this."

 

"When he paints, he doesn't really feel anything," he replied. Brother Fah's voice sounded inexplicably hoarse. I didn't even know what it was...

 

Has he really changed, or is it just me who's being intoxicated by his allure? "Even if P'Fah were naked, you wouldn't think anything of it."

 

"How do you know I wasn't thinking?"

 

"Artists don't usually look at models with that kind of gaze, do they?"

 

"Yes, but P'Fah isn't just a model."

 

"Really?"

"P'Fah is a Won fan. It's hard to look at her and not think anything of it."

 

"So what do you think?"

 

My hand, which had held the pencil firmly, now trembled. I took deep breaths, trying to control the burning heat in my body, but the more I gazed into his eyes, the more I felt his masculinity rising and resisting, the more the fire within me seemed to flare up uncontrollably.

 

"Do you want to go and stop the camera first?" I said, swallowing hard.

 

"Why?" I knew he already knew the answer, but he still pretended to be unaware.

 

"Because I was about to get up and give my darling oral sex, if you don't press stop, we'll both become stars!" P'Fah laughed heartily. He remained seated in the same position as if he hadn't paid any attention to what I had just said, and even smiled. And he even winked at me. "I've wanted to be a star for a long time...

 

His sweet smile made me put down my pencil, quickly wipe my hands with a tissue, and get up to go to him immediately. I crumpled the used tissue. He beckoned me along the way before I knelt before him. I tilted my head and rested it on the handsome model's thigh, while he looked at me with amusement. P'Fah smiled slightly and straightened up.

 

He sat up straight before gently stroking my head. The touch of his large hand aroused me in an astonishing way. The natural scent lingered in every fibre of his being, making even a minute feel like an eternity. I wanted more, right this very moment. I buried my face between his legs, taking a deep breath, before licking his hard, erect penis as if it were a delicious treat. I kissed its entire length, lifted it against his handsome stomach, and teased the hidden testicles beneath. I took them into my mouth, sucking gently with the rhythm my boyfriend liked. I knew I was still giving him the same intense pleasure as always, because he moaned loudly as I played with it with such familiarity.

 

The tightness in my mouth made my jaw ache a little, but that throbbing pain was compensated for by the incredibly pleasurable taste. Every time my lips slid over its erection, the wicked thing resisted fiercely. The bulging veins and rough texture made my heart flutter. A small storm swirled in my lower abdomen. The more I nodded my head, the harder his hand pressed down, gripping my hair so tightly that my scalp stung. But that was the taste I craved, so I didn't try to stop him.

I pulled my shorts and underwear down to my thighs, reached behind me, and impatiently massaged my own opening with my fingertips. It was as wet and slippery as a woman's vulva, except it wasn't natural; I created it. I told P' Fah that today's activity was painting his portrait, but I'd already prepared my own passageway, cleaning it thoroughly and lubricating it perfectly, just waiting for the handsome guy to fall into my trap.

 

"Come here," P'Fah commanded in a hoarse voice. He pulled my hand away and replaced it with his own fingertips. His fingertips were larger than mine, and they caressed me. The entrance was so focused on stimulating my desire that I was twitching inside. "It's so wet."

 

"Mm..." My mouth was too busy to argue, so I could only respond with a low murmur in my throat. I wiggled my buttocks back and forth, signalling to the model to satisfy me even more. He knew what to do, and I knew what I had to do in return.

 

"Ah..." P'Fah moaned, his voice trembling. I sucked on his hardness, pulling hard. The slurping sound echoed loudly, mingling with the wet, squelching sound of his long, slender fingers penetrating my body. He moved rapidly, his fingers bending in the right rhythm, hitting my erogenous zone perfectly. And perhaps because I showed too much how much I enjoyed it, the one controlling the rhythm quickened it, becoming so intense that I trembled all over. "You tricked me, P'Fah... What kind of painting is this? People who paint don't get this wet."

 

"Ah...uh-huh."

 

"Get ready, huh? You're not just going to suck it, are you?" the young model sneered, his long fingers arching upwards, forcing me to involuntarily arch my back. My mouth remained open, accepting his enormous size, sucking up all the fluids mixed together in my mouth without hesitation—my own saliva, the thick, pungent taste from him. I swallowed it all, not letting a drop fall to the floor. 

 

"You're quite the troublemaker... kid."

 

P'Fah yanked his finger out of the wet, slippery opening. A lock of hair from the back of my head was yanked upwards, making my face tilt back. A sudden, overwhelming emptiness struck me; the pleasure that had filled every part of me was taken away, leaving only a void. It was frustrating. I wanted it, I longed to be filled endlessly, but all I could do was beg him.

"Please...please," I pleaded, my voice trembling, my eyes burning, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, my lips stained with some kind of liquid. There's so much going on. If I go back and watch the videos I recorded, my hair will look terrible. "I can't take it anymore...."

 

I really want to see it. It was me, kneeling and begging for pleasure from a man.

 

"Get on," P'Fah said quickly, leaning back in his chair and pulling me onto his lap. Everything happened so fast. Before I knew it, I was kissing him passionately, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth, sucking and nibbling as if we were going to devour each other. We were locked in a tight embrace, our bodies pressed together, my body rubbing against his stomach, while the large, beloved member beneath my hips twitched and cried out.

 

"Ah..." I groaned loudly as I finally got what I wanted. I threw my entire weight onto his lap, allowing that warmth to penetrate me as deeply as possible, bringing us closer, merging into one, and reassuring each other that we were perfect for each other. How much? "Uh... emergency."

 

"Go easy," P'Fah whispered sternly, his large hands supporting my waist, squeezing and caressing periodically to relieve the intense pleasure, and at times...

I felt like I was just sitting there, while P'Fah was the one grabbing my waist and slamming me down onto his lap. "You'll get hurt if you do that," he said.

 

"It doesn't hurt... I like it." I heard a soft grumbling from the other person. P'Fah was probably confused about how I really felt. One minute, I was complaining; the next, I was begging for more.

 

To be honest, I don't know why I like it. It's a blissful torment that's hard to describe. Maybe that's the definition of sex. Something like... agonising but so enjoyable you can't stop. "Ah... It's so big!"

 

"Is it good or bad?"

 

"Good...d..." My voice sounded more and more like a delirium. The more I thrust my body down on this hot, hard, hairy shaft, the more my remaining consciousness threatened to slip away. But only a body consumed by insatiable lust thought, 

 

"That's so satisfying..."

"Really?"

"yeah...."

"Is it full yet?" Not just asking, P'Fah reached behind me, his fingertips gently massaging the edge of the opening where we were getting really into it, and while he was vigorously thrusting his penis in and out, he acted like that wasn't enough for him. "Can I go on further?"

 

"No...that's enough," I stammered, my heart pounding, afraid my boyfriend would pull another prank and insert more fingers, even though it was already tight. It's so tight I can barely stand it. "Put it in again, it'll hurt."

 

"Are you in pain?"

 

"The more times you do it, the more pain I feel," I said sarcastically. P'Fah chuckled, seemingly amused by my reaction. I still had the energy to argue with him. Actually, I was proud of myself for still being able to talk back, even with all that work on my hips and waist. "Who can I sue?"

 

"Oh, oh, does that hurt?" P'Fah teased. He held my hips tightly instead of telling me to stop moving, then leaned his face closer. He slowly licked my lips, teasingly, before slowly standing up while still holding me in his arms. "Who should I tell on this?"

 

"Hmm!" I let out a short groan before my mouth dropped open in pain as he slammed me down onto his hard erection. It was intense. Its length made me feel a tightness in my stomach. I wanted to scream, but couldn't, so I just gasped for air and hugged his neck tightly. P'Fah laughed heartily again before slowly kneeling down on the floor. He laid me down on my back on a clean white sheet and held one of my legs...I hoisted it onto my shoulder and continued playing without interruption.

 

"You tricked me, P'Fah. Now that you've been caught, don't whine, you little piggy," the older man snorted with satisfaction. He thrust in, the sound of his thighs slapping against my buttocks echoing loudly. One arm held my leg, while the other reached to squeeze and caress my chest as if I had a woman's chest. 

 

"Can't even scream, can you, little piggy? Oink oink!"

 

"Damn..." I wanted to curse him, but I couldn't think of anything. Right now, my head is filled with nothing but praise. He's so handsome, so sexy.

 

"That's good. I even want him to tease me more than he's doing now." "Mmm... P'Fah."

"leg?"

 

"It hurts...it hurts so much."

 

"Does it hurt?"

 

"It hurts...you did it too hard."

 

"Oh dear," he said, sounding guilty, but a proud smile played on his lips. "I guess that's enough then."

 

"No...it's not enough." Hearing that, I, who had been whining, immediately changed my mind. "Keep going. I like it...I like it this way."

 

"I don't know what to like anymore."

 

"We're so contradictory," P'Fah said in a husky voice, leaning down to slowly and affectionately lick my chest. "One minute you complain, the next you like it."

 

"I wasn't complaining, I just said, 'Ouch! That hurts!'"

 

"It hurts, but you like it?"

 

"Ah...uh-huh."

 

"Does that mean you can accept it again?"

 

"Oh..." He nodded slowly, as if he had just found out about this for the first time, when in reality, he knew about these lewd things before I even realised it.

 

"What...what are you taking?" I asked, my voice trembling, as the conversation continued. Meanwhile, P'Fah was relentlessly making love to my body, holding nothing back. The intensity only increased until I was sliding along with his force. The large sheet was wrinkled from my pulling and clawing at it. I don't even want to imagine what my back would have been like without it; even with the sheet underneath, it still stung terribly.

 

"More than you, P'Fah," P'Fah whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed close to reaching his climax, but was trying his best to hold back because he wanted to...

 

"Send me to heaven first, like always. 'Can you handle more here? How about two?" He said this as he squeezed and shook my hips. I understand exactly what he means.

 

"And you can even talk more."

 

The more you talk like this, the more I feel like I'm seeing a glimmer of heaven.

 

"Both hands are still able to move."

 

I was about to die... He always hits the right spot.

 

"Fah has tons of model friends; they're all handsome and clean-cut. You can choose as many as you like." I don't even know if I want these fantasies of Dachi to actually happen, but every time I imagine it while making love with Fah My emotions would surge and become so passionate that I would almost always reach climax.

 

"How about we set up the camera like this, too?"

 

This time is no different.

 

"Hmm...my favourite actor. Next time, you don't have to pretend you want to draw."

 

untrue

I wasn't lying at all.

This is just a small profit, really.