Burned out barista flies to Rio thinking he’s going to “find himself” or some bullshit like that, and the game immediately throws him into the kind of vacation people only talk about when their main browser is on Pornhub and their incognito tab is full of brown skin, sandy beaches and sloppy oral. You’re this dude who spent way too long serving cappuccinos and listening to people complain about soy milk, and now you’re landing in Brazil with a cheap suitcase, a fried brain and exactly zero idea what you’re doing. Which is perfect, because the game pretty much weaponizes that clueless energy. One moment you’re half jetlagged, trying to figure out how to pay for a cab without looking like a complete idiot, next moment you’re standing in front of a beach bar, staring at a brazilian latina with legs for days, feet in sandals, laughing at you while she knows exactly how stupid you look. And yeah, she catches you staring at her toes. The game does this a lot: it lets you get horny in a really messy, human way, not like some clinical porn script. When she notices your eyes slide down, you actually get a choice. Look away and pretend you were checking the sand. Or keep looking and admit it. If you go for the second one, her smile changes a little, and you suddenly understand this trip is not about “rest”. It’s about how far you’ll actually go once no one from your boring cafe life is watching.

Stuff escalates slowly and then all at once. There’s the first beach party where everyone’s drunk on cheap caipirinha and outdated reggaeton hits, and you’re squeezed between sweaty bodies, lights, and this girl pressing her ass against you while her boyfriend is literally five meters away buying drinks. Or not her boyfriend. The game never makes it clean. It plays with that netorare edge in a way that feels more like a bad decision on a hot night than some hardcore fetish show. You get scenes where you’re sitting at a plastic table, sand under your feet, she slips off her flip flop and her toes slide over your crotch while she pretends to talk about “culture” and “Brazilian spirit”, and her guy is right there laughing at something on his phone. In one branch he catches on, in another he just stays blissfully dumb. Sometimes you feel like a piece of shit, sometimes you don’t care at all, and the script doesn’t try to clean it up for you. When she drags you to the water later and pushes you against the rocks to suck you off while the tide hits your legs, you remember that you were supposed to “reflect on your life choices” this year. Instead you’re getting wet sand on your ass and her mouth around your dick while she strokes you with the same foot that teased you earlier at the bar, making half-muffled jokes in portuguese you barely get. It’s romantic for two seconds, then filthy, then kind of romantic again. Like a party that smells like sunscreen, sweat and cheap perfume, and you only realize you lost your wallet when you’re already back in the hostel bed, still tasting her on your lips.

The game pretends to be about choices, and in a way it is, but it’s not that tidy “good route / bad route” stuff you see everywhere. You can chase a more tender vacation romance with one girl, share quiet moments with her on the beach at sunset, listen to her talk about trying to get out of the favela, kiss her slowly, feel her tongue slide into your mouth while she climbs on your lap, her bikini bottoms pushed aside so she can ride you carefully while waves crash in the background. Or you can screw that up completely by answering one question wrong and ending in some cramped back room of a noisy bar, where another woman drops to her knees so fast it feels almost transactional, letting you fuck her throat while her mascara smudges and her feet rub together along your shaft in a messy footjob that’s more desperation than affection. Sometimes it feels like you’re the tourist ruining people’s lives, other times you’re just a guy getting dragged along in someone else’s chaos. There is interracial stuff, yeah, and the game doesn’t treat it like porn category labels, just like reality: different tones of skin tangled together on sweaty sheets, breath in your ear, nails on your back, a leg over your shoulder while you go down on her until she pulls your hair because you’re too rough. It’s not “polished” at all. Some scenes feel rushed, some jumps between daytime coffee in a small cafe and night-time blowjob in a dark alley are jarring, and sometimes the tone flips so fast you wonder if two writers fought over the script in a Google Doc. But that messy vibe is exactly like a real bad decision vacation. You tell yourself you came here to rest. Then you wake up with sand in your shoes, bite marks on your chest, a girl’s phone number written on your arm in marker, and you’re already checking if she’s online while another woman sends you a message asking if you’re coming to the next party. The game never asks if you deserve any of it. It just lets you sink deeper.

Dreams of Desire is like one of those trashy hentai OVA you told yourself you’d watch just for the “plot”, then suddenly it’s three routes later and you know everyone’s bad habits, favorite underwear color, and exactly how far they’ll go if you whisper the right words into their ear. The setup is simple enough: guy doesn’t want to get shipped off to some dead boring military academy, stumbles over a creepy old book that basically says “hey, you can hack people’s brains if you’re horny and irresponsible enough,” and then everything around him turns into a playground of lust, lies, and a bit of morality yeeting itself out the window. What I like is how it goes from kinda normal slice of life to “ok, this household is one wrong decision away from a full-on corruption spiral” without making a big dramatic show. One minute you’re talking about chores and dinner, next minute you’re peeking through doors, catching somebody fingering themselves, and the game asks you if you just walk away or stand there like a degenerate and enjoy the view.

The corruption stuff is the real meat here. It’s not like, instant brainwash with glowing eyes and everyone turns into sex drones. It’s slower, messy, and sometimes awkward in that way only this genre really knows how to do. You try pushing someone a little too hard and they snap at you, or you say the “wrong” suggestion and instead of sexy obedience you get guilt, weird tension, and you sitting there thinking “ok, I kinda deserve that.” Then two scenes later that same character is giving you this shy little striptease, pretending they’re in control while clearly melting inside. Some of the best moments are small things, like when the “good girl” character starts swearing when she gets fucked rough for the first time, or when the dominant one suddenly blushes when you flip the power dynamic and tease her feet until she begs. The game really loves watching you turn hesitation into addiction: first a stolen glance in the shower, then mutual masturbation, then blowjob in a place that’s absolutely not safe, and then suddenly you’re sharing a bed with three women who should absolutely not all be okay with it, yet nobody is saying no anymore. And the worst part is how natural it feels inside this world, like the book didn’t just unlock manipulation, it pulled the mask off everyone’s hidden kinks and said “go on, you already wanted this.”

Keiichi feels like that dude who sits alone in the corner of a beach bar, pretending he’s “just enjoying the view” while his entire life is quietly catching fire. The game throws you right into his vacation, into this fake-relaxing tropical vibe where the air smells like sunscreen and cheap cocktails, and suddenly every girl you meet has a body that makes you forget what you were going to say. It looks like some light romantic thing at first, all smiles at the hotel café, sand stuck between toes, sun on brown skin, but it doesn’t stay soft. One moment you’re sharing iced coffee with a curvy Brazilian waitress, watching her ass sway when she leans over to clean a table, and the next she’s teasing you under the counter with her foot, pressing her soft sole against your crotch while she keeps talking like nothing’s happening. She laughs when you spill your drink, by the way. Total bully energy, and I kind of hated it and loved it.

The whole story is written like this messy diary he’s keeping on his phone, like when you open Google Docs at night and write stuff you’d never send to anyone. Some scenes are sweet in a painful way. You’re on the beach at sunset with this latina girl who pretends she just wants to talk about “future plans” and family drama, but the camera just sits way too long on her tits pushed up in that bikini, on tan thighs crossed in the sand. She puts her feet in your lap, wriggling her toes like it’s nothing, and casually asks if you’ve ever had your dick sucked on an empty shore. Cue choice screen: be a gentleman, or let her slowly slide down, her lips wrapping around you while waves crash in the background. You can pick if he’s loyal or just a horny idiot, but no matter what you choose, you still feel like a creep checking all the routes. There’s a party scene too, loud music, glow sticks, everyone half-drunk, her lipstick smeared as she pushes you into a dark corner near the pool and takes you in her mouth, choking and giggling, then asking if you’d still call her in the morning. You probably won’t.

The game keeps throwing women at you like you’re the last man on earth. Big tits bouncing in tight tops at the hotel café, big asses in tiny shorts walking ahead of you on the boardwalk, different skin tones, different attitudes. One is shy and romantic, blushing when your hand brushes her ankle, then later she’s the one giving you a slow, almost worshipful footjob on the bed, her painted toes gripping your shaft while she whispers that she wants to belong to you. Another girl flirts with your friends, flirts with everyone actually, and if you follow the wrong choices she heads off with some other guy, and the game just lets you sit in that sick netorare feeling, reading Keiichi’s jealous diary entry where he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes the choices feel fake, like they clearly want you to go for the full harem route, with all of them orbiting around your dick on this “vacation that changes everything”, but then there are these tiny moments where someone refuses you, or talks about old wounds, and suddenly your porn game turns into late-night emotional torture. Still, every time I told myself I’d stick to one wholesome romance, I ended up at another beach party, staring at bouncing tits in a wet bikini top, toes sliding along my shaft under the table, and clicking the most trash option available without even pretending to be a good guy.

Your life should have been boring as hell. Little farm kid, small fantasy town, marry a local girl, grow potatoes, die. Instead you somehow put a ring on one of the most famous adventurers in the whole damn kingdom, this stacked, battle-scarred goddess with giant tits, a perfect ass and a sword arm that could probably snap your spine if you misbehave. And she actually agrees to drop the armor, squeeze into a too-tight tavern uniform and work in your tiny, creaky bar as the new sexy waitress. It already feels like cheating just watching her bend over tables and pretend she doesn’t notice the way every drunk in the room is measuring her up like she is tonight’s main dish.

The game basically runs on that one dirty thought you never admit to anyone: what if your own wife wasn’t just yours? You’re the owner, she’s the barmaid, and every night the place fills with horny bastards, big spenders, shady mercs, orcs with big black cocks that barely fit in their trousers, and you decide how far you push her. Maybe you keep it “sweet” at first. Let her flirt, talk with that cute shy smile, boobs almost falling out of her corset while guys tip extra to see a little more cleavage. Then you start choosing drinks or events that push the mood. Stronger liquor, louder music, “accidental” wardrobe malfunctions, bets that end with her sitting in some stranger’s lap while you pretend to count coins. It’s all about nudging the line and then watching it vanish. One moment you’re proud husband, next moment you’re in the storage room jerking off because she just let a dark elf slap her ass in front of everyone and laughed like it was nothing.

What hits hard is how the game makes you feel both powerful and pathetic at the same time. You call the shots, pick dialog, pick what she wears, if she serves the regulars in that half-open shirt or that super tight skirt she can barely walk in. You choose if she smiles and seduces, if she blushes in humiliation, if she gets rough-handled behind the bar when you “look away” a bit too long. Sometimes you try to be a good guy and keep her safe, but the tavern itself kind of corrupts you. Money goes up faster when she lets them touch. Reputation spreads when she serves the big black stud in the corner and doesn’t stop him when his hand climbs under her skirt. And the part that fucked my brain a bit is that she actually likes the attention if you keep pushing that way, or she hates it and still does it because she wants you happy, and both versions are hot for completely different reasons. It’s not just porn, it’s this slow, messy slide from “my loyal wife” to “everyone’s favorite milf waitress” with you stuck between jealousy, pride, arousal and this weird, guilty smile while adventurers brag about how good her mouth feels. By the time the tavern is famous, you’re not even sure if you’re still the husband or just the guy who owns the bed she crawls into after getting pounded behind the bar. And somehow, that’s exactly what you were dreaming of from the start.