As we exited the ticket gate at Otsuka Station, Luna gave a small wave. She said it was her first time in the city, and her eyes darted around nervously. She should be used to the hustle and bustle of Shibuya, but here she seemed strangely quiet, almost borrowed. When she smiled, her eyes narrowed. Each time, the awkwardness from before melted away, and a lightness befitting her age emerged. Her hair was a color close to blonde. It seemed it had been black until recently. When I asked her why she changed it, she just said, "Just because," and smiled vaguely. I thought she was the kind of person who doesn't look for reasons for change. She said she works at an izakaya (Japanese pub). She gave the practical reason that she could do whatever she wanted with her nails and hair, but at the same time, she added that she also liked to drink. She said she becomes cheerful when she drinks, but she was already cheerful enough even now. It seemed that most of the people she had dated in the past were serious. She said she had dated a man who was almost forty, as if it were someone else's story. She said it started when she approached him first. When I asked her why, she simply said, "Because you're my type." When I heard that knitting was her hobby, I was speechless for a moment. The image of her slender fingers handling yarn didn't quite come to mind with the woman in front of me. But I suppose such inconsistencies are what make a person who they are. She continued talking incessantly. She said that she applied because she was interested, as if it were nothing special. Curiosity outweighed hesitation in her voice. When we entered the room, it suddenly became quiet. The lightness she had been so lighthearted just moments before seemed to have vanished. She said her first experience was after she turned twenty. She lowered her gaze slightly and said that she had lived a serious life until then. I can only imagine what that "serious" life meant to me. The hem of her short dress swayed with a delay as she moved. Whether intentional or not, her underwear was almost visible. I was speechless at her vulnerability. When I pointed the camera at her, she recoiled slightly. Still, she wasn't completely rejecting me. There was a mix of shyness and acceptance in her at the same time. The pink and black lace was obscene. Her fellatio, as she said her mouth was an erogenous zone, was a pleasure beyond foreplay. She made sounds while glancing at the camera. When I squirmed, she narrowed her eyes cutely. "I'm both an S and an M," Luna says, analyzing herself. There was no lie in those words. As I inserted my erect penis into her already wet pussy, the devilish smile on her face that had been teasing me moments before instantly transformed into that of a woman. Blonde but her hobby is knitting, S yet M. I wanted to see more of these contrasts in her, so I continued thrusting my hips for a long time.