For a while, the woman didn't make a sound, just finished typing, and then intently stared at her computer screen.
Willy Smith couldn't keep his composure any longer. Suddenly, he sprang up from the bed and looked toward the woman's computer screen...
He shouldn't have looked. Various detailed instructional diagrams about **** spanned the screen, the illustrations comprehensive and explicit—it was perfection embodied!
But...
"Why are there even step-by-step pictures, and yet no hands?"
The woman kept flipping through, muttering to herself all the while.
Willy Smith: "..."
After all this time pretending like an old hand, was she actually relying on the computer?
Willy Smith felt an urge to run headfirst into a wall, "You don't know how to do this?"
"Why should I know how to do it?"
The woman continued to earnestly flip through webpages, instinctively retorting, "If it weren't for your peculiar tastes, I would never look at such trashy sites in my lifetime!"
