Coming back to this house feels dirty in all the wrong and right ways. Your parents are both gone and yeah, the game throws that at you with a kind of “sorry, shit happens” energy, then casually pushes you toward the front door of the woman who basically helped raise you. Monica opens the door and it hits you at once that this isn’t the “auntie” from your memories. This is a walking porn category: tight dress, heavy curves, ass that probably has its own gravity field, and a smile that clearly isn’t parental. She still calls you “sweetie” like you’re twelve, while her tits are almost falling out. It’s grossly comforting and also horny in a way that makes you feel like you need a priest and a cold shower, but you still click the flirty dialogue because of course you do.

The really fun, fucked up part is how the game plays with who gets a say in all this. You’ve got Monica and her two daughters, who grew up with you like sisters, and now every route is teasing where the line is. One moment you’re having this normal reunion chat in the living room, the next you notice the younger girl bending over in shorts that barely count as clothing, camera angle planted right on her ass, and the game nudges you: stare or look away? You don’t “ask” for consent here, you poke at the system and see how far you can push things without them snapping. It feels like watching your own brain on Pornhub addiction. You get these choices that pretend to respect boundaries, then reward you hard when you quietly ignore them. Peek through the slightly open bathroom door? Of course, the game gives you a juicy CG of her naked and wet, then later acts like the universe forgot you did that. As someone who actually thinks about consent stuff in games, it’s both interesting and a bit fucked, because the story keeps telling you “this is wrong” while the mechanics go “nice job, here’s another panty shot.”

The side characters twist the knife more. There’s this smug neighbor who clearly wants Monica’s attention and talks about her like she’s a prize to win, and the game lets you either out-creep him or play the “good guy” while still spying through windows at night. You get scenes where you “accidentally” walk in on two girls making out, or end up sandwiched between a group of drunk friends grinding on you during a party, and nobody in the story ever really gives a full, clear “yes” in a real-world sense. They’re flustered, embarrassed, teased, humiliated a bit, but somehow always positioned in a way that their bodies say yes even if their mouths say “stop being a perv” for formality. That’s the core kink here: the fantasy that people secretly want you to push them, to nudge past their comfort if you’re just charming enough. Ethically, it sucks. As porn, it’s hot. Those two truths sit together the whole time, like watching a messy relationship on Instagram that you know is unhealthy but you still stalk every story update. Sometimes the game pretends it’s about “romance” and “healing old wounds” and you almost believe it, then it throws you a choice like “grope her in public or stay polite” and, yeah, it knows exactly what site it’s being played on.

Michelle looks like the girl in your office who always leaves at exactly 5, hair perfect, life probably on rails. Except here she is in sweaty, neon Hong Kong streets in 1986, slowly losing her grip on that “good daughter, good employee” mask because one tiny, stubborn, chain-smoking woman named Sam keeps flirting with her in ways that are way too gentle to ignore and way too dirty to be innocent. The game starts pretty tame, all long bus rides, quiet apartment scenes, small talk about movies and clothes, but the whole time the camera lingers on thighs under skirts, fingers brushing on handrails, the little hesitation when Michelle looks at Sam’s mouth while they share a drink. It’s a slow, frustrating kind of heat, like when you’re stuck on Zoom meetings and sexting on Telegram on the side, except here it’s cassette tapes and payphones and cramped bedrooms with thin walls and parents one room away. The erotic stuff doesn’t explode in your face with instant porn. It creeps in. One kiss in a dark cinema where Michelle is stiff at first, almost scared, then you see her lips part, her hands tremble, and you can almost hear her swallow before she gives in and pulls Sam closer. Tongues, teeth, that wet sound, and she keeps her eyes half open like she still cannot believe she is letting another woman taste her like that.

When it finally goes past kissing, it hits like someone yanked the curtain down. You get these long, quiet scenes on a bed where the sheets are a bit messy, clothes half off, bras sliding down arms, Michelle trying to cover herself at first and Sam just laughing low and kissing every bit she tries to hide. There is a moment where Sam goes down on her, and it’s not some porn-speed blowjob logic. It is slow and almost awkward, Michelle gripping the bedsheet because she does not even have the words in her own language for what is happening between her legs. The text describes every tiny reaction, how her thighs twitch, how she tries to keep her voice down because her mother could walk past the door, how her hips start grinding against Sam’s mouth anyway, shame turning into this fucked up relief. You can tell the writers actually understand how it feels when you are eating pussy like you care about the person, not like you are checking off positions. There are pauses, deep breaths, a little laugh from Sam when Michelle whimpers a bit too loudly, and then she doubles down, tongue and lips and fingers working together until Michelle is shaking so hard she almost pushes her away. That first orgasm is not “perfect”, it feels real, messy, emotional, like she just broke some rule she has been obeying her whole life.

Under all that sex there is this heavy layer of family and culture pressure that honestly turned me on more than I expected, because the guilt makes everything spicier and more fucked up. Michelle sneaks back home smelling like cigarettes and someone else’s perfume, lies to her mother at the dinner table while still feeling Sam’s fingers inside her if she closes her eyes for a second. There are choices where you can lean into the romance, keep seeing Sam, or try to “fix” yourself and go back to the safe, straight, lonely path everyone expects. Some endings feel like a punch in the gut, some feel like a small rebellion that might not last forever but at least burns hot while it exists. It is a romantic story, yeah, there is sweetness, hand holding, soft kisses, that feeling when you are falling in love and every bus ride feels like a music video, but the game never really lets you forget that this is two women trying to build something intimate and wet and tender inside a world that keeps telling them they are wrong. That clash is what makes the sex scenes hit so hard. When Sam whispers “you’re mine tonight” while Michelle’s family photos are literally watching from the shelf, it feels dirty in the best way, like she is betraying everything for the chance to have her own life, her own pleasure, even if it all goes to hell later.

Claire is basically that girl who moves to the big city with way too much hope and not enough shame, and the game knows it. It starts pretty harmless, like some casual romance visual novel on your phone that you pretend to play on the subway while actually staring at the hot guy across from you, but then it slides into the horny mess part very fast. You follow her through this messy “I wanna be an actress” journey, where every casting couch looks a little too soft and every director is just one compliment away from unzipping. The voyeur stuff sneaks up on you too: sometimes you’re not in the sex, you’re just watching Claire peek through doors, overhear moans from the next room, scroll some sketchy chat app, and your brain goes “okay, I should not be this turned on by her spying but here we are.” And yeah, it’s romantic, but in that trashy, late-night Netflix series way where one minute she’s holding hands on a rainy street and the next minute she’s face-down, ass up on a stranger’s couch, thinking about how this will “help her career.” Relatable? No. Entertaining? Absolutely.

What surprised me is how the sexy scenes and the relationship drama are mixed together so you never get just one clean thing. You’re in this big city full of lights and noise, trying to keep Claire loyal to someone who maybe deserves her, but every time the game throws some confident older guy, or a hot actress rival, or some creeper with money, your resolve kind of melts. There’s this one casting where you can literally feel her hesitating, like “do I open my legs or walk away,” and I actually paused the game, opened Telegram out of habit, then came back and still made the wrong choice, twice. Cheating is not some hidden bad ending here, it’s right in your face, baked into how you pick dialogue, how curious you let her be, how bold you push her. Sometimes she’s getting her pussy pounded while thinking about another person entirely and the writing doesn’t try to clean it up. It just lets her be shameless and confused and horny, and you either go with it or pretend you’re better than this and still click the nasty option. The scenes with her big tits bouncing during those “auditions” hit hard, but then suddenly the same boobs are in a quiet, tender bedroom moment and you’re like, this is cute, I hate it, do it again. And the worst part is the save menu button is slightly in the wrong place on mobile and it bothers me every single time I mis-tap it and end up in settings instead, but I keep playing anyway, watching this girl trip through love, sex, and city nights like a walking tarot card: Fool, Lovers, Devil, all in one slutty, confused package.

It’s messy in a way that feels uncomfortably real, like watching someone make the worst decisions possible and still finding yourself leaning forward, curious where her next excuse will lead. Yumi moves through the story with this almost painful self-awareness - she knows she’s being watched, both by the player and the game’s world, but she never really stops preening for it. The first time she opens her blouse just slightly too far during that office scene, there’s no sound cue, no dramatic pause - just the soft rustle of fabric and that flicker of doubt on her face. I swear, that moment hit harder than any of the explicit stuff later. The game tries to sell corruption as gradual, but honestly, it’s more about how easily she adjusts to attention. Maybe that’s what makes it so believable.

Then again, sometimes it overplays its hand. There’s this one animation loop during a handjob scene where her eyes cross weirdly, and it pulled me straight out of it; felt more comedic than erotic - like a reaction meme frozen mid-spasm. But that’s part of its charm, right? It’s too earnest to be slick. Even the blackmail thread with Thompson manages to feel less like some grand scheme and more like the world’s creepiest HR problem spiraling out of control. Which, depending on your mood, could be hot or just exhausting. And yet, when Yumi whispers something half-hearted before giving in, it lands. Maybe because the voice acting doesn’t try to sound sultry - it sounds confused, nervous, real.

The lighting deserves attention though. Somebody clearly obsessed over skin tone gradients because every sweat bead looks deliberate. The husband scenes are quieter, tender even, though they carry that slow dread of knowing he’s already losing her. I found myself irrationally annoyed by his tie color - gray, always gray - as if that dull choice symbolized everything wrong with him. Maybe that’s reading too much into it. Or maybe the game wanted that reaction. Anyway, it lingers. You finish a session and keep thinking about those tiny hesitations, how desire can look like guilt when the camera holds just a second too long.