Love me in this remote land, where I wear the skin of a girl... Spilled sighs and northern passion. The northern land where the freezing wind stings the skin. In this place where the endless silver snow seems to cover all human sins and loneliness, I met "him"... no, "her." Dressed in trendy clothes and standing aimlessly on a street corner, at first glance, she looked like any other lovely girl. However, deep in those eyes dwelt a profound loneliness like the vast wilderness and a wavering, unstable ego. Escaping the hustle and bustle of the city and accidentally arriving in this distant land, I never expected to encounter such a "rare existence." The god named fate sometimes plays cruel and sometimes overly sweet pranks. That day, "her" mood was like a rare Indian summer in the northern sky. The unstable waves of her spirit had calmed like a lull, brought on by the anticipation of pleasure from a long-awaited affair. In the locked room of a hotel, amidst the drowsy air heated by the heater, I treated "her" gently and affectionately as a girl. When the clothes were removed, the undeniable body of a boy was revealed. Yet, the cheeks flushed with shame, the trembling eyelashes, and the delicacy of the fingertips seeking me were more glamorous and graceful than any woman's. Only the heat of our intersecting skin was the sole proof that we were alive in this moment. The sight of her twisting her body at the impact of insertion, making sounds in her throat and begging for love. As she wavered on the boundary of her own gender, "her" hot breath, swallowed by the vortex of pleasure, stripped away my reason. It was a ritual akin to the salvation of the soul, transcending mere sexual intercourse. The joy of being treated as a girl and the instincts of a man clashed and eventually blended together in the height of immorality. "I don't intend to continue this in the future, but I don't think I can graduate from it immediately..." Afterward, in a state of exhaustion, the words "she" let slip contained an equal mix of hope for the future and despair for the present. We merely shared a fleeting dream. By the time this snow melts, this heat and the memory of our overlapping skin will likely be swept away by the northern wind. We will probably never meet again. That is why this "embrace at the end of the world" was carved deep into my heart, like permafrost that will never melt.
PETSHOP/Mousouzoku
