The moment I enter the room, I can tell by the smell.
I know that person is here.
The scent of conditioner is quite strong. It's different from perfume; it feels like it's brazenly invading the back of my nose. Rather than being refreshing, it's just thick and heavy, with a viscosity like honey.
At this point, it's either to attract others or a form of self-expression, an assertion of existence. It's far from the refreshing scent of lilac that I love; it's more like the artificial scent of a DQN car, to the level where my head feels like it's splitting open from the inside... And this is the unpleasant reality where no one can stop it or warn them. When I post on ●●●●●● seeking advice, the responses are like "Well, it's diversity," conveniently brushing everything off, or if backed into a corner, "I've been studying law recently" or "I'll disclose your information," like some brat who thinks they're smart because they learned one trick. I always wish to improve this lukewarm situation of '●●' that has been built on compromise after compromise, even if just a little bit.
≪Magazine Editor (34) Defenseless / Hidden Beautiful Massive Boobs, Wandering Shirokane-Takanawa at 13:43, Dark Thick Pussy Hair≫
≪Instructor (24) 172cm Perfect Body, Pursuit Skewering, Bug Vacuum Pussy≫
≪Convenience Store Clerk (20) Enrolled at Wa●● University, Love from a Bottom-Tier Senior, Sleepy Onahole SEX, Shaved Pussy Girl Completely Fallen (lol)≫
≪Enrolled at MARCH: Bookstore Clerk (20) *Pure* My Exclusive Womb Revealed, Fallen for Top Gun, Frenzied Demon Piston≫
Only here is a love nest.
The less charming the girl, the more her hips shake against an old man's strongest, superior, shitty cock. The root of reproductive instinct makes it so. Since they can't clearly say they love mating, components with 39% increased safety over conventional ones provide super-fast support for awakening instincts. With one piston, semen from an old man's concentrated balls is poured in until the womb is crushed. Two people customize and unleash.
