Man, I was sick of it. Really, truly sick of it.

I screwed up all my courage, though, and built sentences with the entire focus of my being because I feared that the second I stopped writing the erotic game, the real problems I desperately was trying to ignore would come back in full force. I would have to look straight at the painful truth, and that would be no good. It would, in fact, be bad.

That’s why I used the France Shoin[23] books I had bought as examples as I focused on writing the scenarios. Look for the right vocabulary! Find the metaphor! It was a tiring ordeal. I’d write and delete… Write and delete. My brain was about to unhinge.

“The man unzips his pants and drops his jeans to his knees.”

“Ah, ah, oh no!”

“Sister, sister, sister!”

“And her soft breasts…”

“… beating off…”

No good. Delete.

“Swollen.”

No. Delete.

“It rose high in a manly way.”

Wrong! Delete, delete!

“Piercing the sky.”

Are you kidding?! Delete, delete, delete!

“Soaking wet.”

Wrong!

“Salmon pink.”

I said, ‘wrong!’

“Shining wetly.”

No!

“Stuck wetly to the lower abdomen.”

Stop it!

“Slimy.”

No more!

“Heartbeat.”

I can’t take any more!

“The labia.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Shell pink.”

I said, ‘what’s wrong with me?’

“Milky white.”

What’s wrong with me…?

“Small breasts…”

“… fresh and young…”

“… sweating…”

“… harder…”

“N-no!”

“… sweet sigh…”

“… rubbing up against her…”

“… slightly pointed…”

Other words came to me: “grope” … “undulation” … “insertion” … “hips” … “from her lips” … “grinding” … “sweet” … “like a kitten” … “female body” … “tensed” …

What’s wrong with me…?

“Swollen” … “to the crotch” … “cute” … “urgent” … “hardened” … “light pink” … “want to see” … “okay, it’s fine” … “completely naked” … “nothing left covering her” … “an oval-shaped stain” … “mound” … “slit” …

No more.

“Right below the belly button” … “the private parts” … “make your chest pound” …

I’m done for.

“Swollen” … “breathing quietly” … “simple” … “the bush” … “overflowing honey” … “with her pointer finger” … “it’s almost like you wet yourself” … “impatiently” … “indecent” … “of the membrane” …

What about my life…?

“Swollen” … “piston” … “vulgar” … “crack” …

I can’t see my future.

“Swollen” … “sticky sound” … “wet” … “hot” … “mire” … “plunge in” … “foreskin” … “soft flesh” … “blushing just a little” … “licentious” …

It’s better if I just die.

“Swollen” … “swollen” … “piercing the sky” … “rising high.”

“Swollen” … “swollen” … “swollen” … “swollen” … “swollen!”

AHHHHHH!

I scratched my head.

Delete all, delete all, delete all…

Using a France Shoin book as a model was a mistake from the start. When fiction becomes the reference for fiction, it’s natural that the descriptions get stranger and stranger. I felt like I was going crazy.

I’m okay. Calm down.

Taking a deep breath to soothe myself, I decided to start over from the beginning, using my own real experiences for reference. If I did that, I should be able to draw realistic erotic scenes based on my own nonfiction experiences.

Real experiences, real experiences…