Eau de Bussyfart

After five chaotic years of reckless passion, everything dissolved into nothingness. In a seedy open-air brothel, Natsurou—a reclusive shut-in—clutched his rooster absently while fantasizing about his vanished, tight entrance. Strangely, the complainer’s restraining ring matched the exact size of his former lover’s stretched passage. Trembling with arousal, Natsurou fastened a collar around his own smooth throat and hauled himself toward a hidden chamber of depravity. Inside, he unveiled a grotesque trophy—the peeled visage of an ex-lover—and proposed a twisted coupling, wearing the lifeless skin as a mask while violating the hollow remains. His body quivered as he lapped up Tsuyuhiko’s spilled essence from the floor. Dropping to his hands and knees, he exposed his ruined entrance with a sly, animalistic grin. A swelling heat pulsed within him, expanding steadily. Deep down, he understood—when the moment arrived, he’d deliver the monstrous spawn of that degenerate’s seed.