Middle-aged guy, nice house, routine sex life that feels like checking boxes. That’s where this thing starts, and honestly I liked how boring he is at the beginning. Feels honest. He jerks off in the shower scrolling his phone a bit too long, kisses his wife without tongue, pretends the porn tabs are “work stuff”. There’s this quiet, pathetic comfort. Then Rebecca walks into that same house and the whole energy of the rooms changes. Kitchen suddenly feels like a porn set, hallway feels like a trap, the sofa becomes this place where nobody sits quite normally anymore. It’s not just “oh cute girl appears” and everyone turns horny. It’s slower, creepier, like your own brain trying to talk you into cheating on yourself.

What the game does really well is that subtle creeping tension. You get this first scene where he accidentally sees her changing from a gap in the door. Classic voyeur stuff, I know, but here it’s not just “oh nice tits”. You feel him freeze, you see his hand move before his mind does. He knows he should pull away. He just doesn’t. That moment when he realizes he’s hard and still looking, and still not stopping, hits weirdly real. Later there’s a scene at the table, everyone eating, nothing explicit, but his eyes keep drifting to her bare legs and you notice the camera lingering half a second too long on her thighs. It’s such a small thing yet it amps the guilt. And then the masturbation scenes after that? Very… specific. Not generic stroking. He remembers how the bra strap sat on her shoulder, the way her hair stuck to her neck, and he jerks it to that, panting into the pillow because his wife is literally asleep next to him. I don’t even like “dad fantasy” stuff normally, but here I caught myself leaning forward like an idiot.

Sex itself comes later and feels earned and messy, not clean porn logic. There is this one moment where he finally touches her “by accident” on the stairs. Little groping that lasts one second too long. She doesn’t pull away right away. That delay is hotter than half the games on Nutaku, to be honest. When they finally fuck, they don’t go straight into some circus act. First time is clumsy, rushed, with that desperate grind where both of them try to be quiet and fail. You can literally feel the bed creaking through the screen. I liked the way the guy keeps whispering “we shouldn’t” while pushing in deeper. Hypocrite, but hot. And yes, there is proper vaginal sex, not all teasing forever, but it’s wrapped in this romantic haze that feels wrong and right at same time. He looks at her like she is both holy and dirty, which is exactly how this kind of forbidden love usually exists in the head. I do wish the game gave the wife a bit more presence instead of parking her in the background like a plant, but whatever, that ship has sailed. The romance with Rebecca becomes this weird mix of tenderness and filth, soft kisses and clutched sheets, quiet I love yous that sound more like excuses. It’s not subtle art-house erotica, it’s more like finding someone’s secret folder in their Google Drive. Too personal, a bit uncomfortable, and you keep watching anyway. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?

You start as this guy who got totally screwed over by life. Framed for killing his own father, thrown in prison, years just gone. When he finally walks out, the whole vibe of the world feels off, like reality forgot how to be normal. And then his dreams stop being just dreams. One night you’re staring through your own eyes, next night you’re suddenly in this other place, like a sci-fi fantasy city with neon and magic at the same time, stuck in a tight POV view with a monster girl pressing her huge tits against your chest, asking why you keep running from “your power.” She’s got horns, a tail, and an ass that fills the whole screen when she turns. You’re supposed to be scared, she’s talking about fate and monsters and some cosmic war, but instead you’re watching her lips as she wraps them around your cock and drools all over it, eyes rolled back in full ahegao while you’re still half sure this is a nightmare. It’s not. Not really. Every time you cum, the dream world reacts, like you just flipped a switch in some forgotten machine.

Then, outside of dreams, your life is this weird mix of murder mystery and porn logic. You’re “trying to rebuild yourself,” but what actually happens is you keep meeting women who are way too into your mess. The milf neighbor who knew your father and keeps “comforting” you by letting your hands wander under her blouse, whispering that you’re so much bigger than he was while she grinds on your thigh. The shy virgin cosplay girl who acts like a nervous little mouse in the day, then shows up dressed as some space elf at night, kneeling between your legs with glitter on her cheeks, giving you slow, sloppy oral and stopping every few seconds to tease you with just the tip between her lips, like she’s roleplaying she never did this before. She says she wants to help “investigate” your case, but somehow the investigation scene ends with her riding you, big tits bouncing, begging for a creampie so hard she forgets the whole point of the conversation. Sometimes you get to flip things and go full male dom, hand around a throat, fucking her from behind until her tongue’s out and she’s moaning like a broken toy. Other times the game flips you on your back and lets a dominant woman sit on your face, grinding her pussy over your mouth while she uses a vibrator on your cock and denies you until your vision almost fades. There’s anal, voyeur moments where you spy two monster girls going at it in a shower, footjobs from a smug heroine who claims she “won’t touch you with her hands,” titfucks where your cum ends up all over soft big breasts, toys shoved into dripping holes while you stand there, watching, choosing whether you help or just enjoy the show. In the middle of all that, you’re chasing clues about your father’s death, unlocking superpower stuff tied to sex and emotions, and somehow building a harem of humans, milfs and literal monsters who all want a piece of you. It’s messy, horny, sometimes actually emotional for a second before someone gets groped against a wall and you forget what you were even talking about.

Denji’s trapped again, but this time it’s not about blood or blades. It’s a damn maze of moans and bad decisions. The walls hum like they’re watching, the air sticky with that half-sinful, half-desperate energy only Chainsaw Man chaos could pull off. Kobeni trembles like always - except now she’s trembling for different reasons. You can almost taste her panic when your hand slides under her shirt, that mix of fear and wanting that shouldn’t feel this hot but somehow does. Himeno’s smirk cuts through the tension like a knife dipped in smoke; she knows exactly what you’re thinking before you even move. She plays dirty, whispering things that make you forget which way is out, makes you think maybe getting lost forever wouldn’t be so bad.

The game doesn’t rush. It teases. One second you’re grinding through dialogue choices that seem stupidly simple, and then suddenly it hits you - this isn’t about saving anyone, it’s about corrupting them just enough to see who breaks first. Internal view scenes hit hard, no filter, no mercy. The sound design’s nasty in a good way - sticky breaths, little gasps, wet slaps echoing through the infinite corridor like applause. There’s humor too, weirdly enough. Power barges in at the worst possible moment, yells something ridiculous, and you still can’t help but laugh even as the screen flashes another throbbing close-up. It’s gross and sexy and kinda tragic all at once.

And yeah, the endings. Plural. You’ll probably screw up the first one, because some options look harmless until you realize they change everything. There’s a scene where Denji just stares at his own hands, covered in… well, you know, and it lingers longer than comfortable. That’s the thing - nothing here feels safe, even the pleasure. It’s messy, horny, strangely tender in places where it shouldn’t be. Like the game itself is laughing at you for getting turned on by its cruelty. And maybe it’s right.

You know that awful feeling when your phone buzzes, you open the chat, and you’re not sure if you even want to scroll up because you already feel something’s wrong? This game lives inside that feeling. You play as Eddie, normal guy, married, kind of worn out by life, stuck in this shitty loop of work, stress, debt, and a dick that just refuses to cooperate when you actually need it. The whole thing plays out mostly through chats and phone stuff, so you’re basically spying on your own life. Messages, pictures, little bits of “hey babe, miss you” turning into “hey, I’m working late” and then into things you really don’t want to see your wife sending to someone else. And still you keep tapping, because of course you do.

Rachel starts as that sweet, supportive wife who just wants to help, who wants her man back, wants sex that isn’t awkward and half-hearted. The game doesn’t jump straight into filth. It teases you. She takes small jobs, chats with new people, gets “friendly” with that one guy who compliments her more in two texts than Eddie managed in a whole week. You see her selfies get a bit bolder. At first it’s cute. She’s shy, a bit embarrassed, but she sends that “accidental” cleavage pic and you feel both proud and a bit sick. Then the pictures get dirtier. The emojis change. The typing pauses get longer. The game really likes to make you stare at the screen waiting for three dots, wondering if she’s going to send something soft or something that will make you want to punch the wall and jerk off at the same time.

Sex scenes here are mostly in your head and on the phone screen, twisted together. When she’s playing with herself, you don’t just see her; you see the messages that pushed her there. Some random guy hyping her up, telling her how wet she must be, asking for “proof”, and she actually sends it. You get AI-style images that look like those edited photos you see on Telegram porn channels, slightly too clean, but the situation around them is messy as fuck. There’s cheating, voyeurism, corruption, all that good painful stuff. You read how she describes your failures in bed while you’re the one stuck watching and masturbating like some pathetic cuck who can’t even look away. The worst part is how normal it all feels. No magic, no mind control. Just money problems, stress, one dude with a working dick and another with a nice salary and a smooth tongue, and a woman who gets tired of waiting. The story doesn’t need big twists. It just pokes at those ugly relationship fears until they get horny, then keeps going a bit too far. You know it’s going to hurt. You still open the next chat. And the next picture. And the next.