In the midst of a century's feverish embrace.
Tang Feng's large hands slid up Meng Lingshan's horse-face skirt, caressing her two black-stockinged legs from beneath the hem.
The round and firm legs, so delightful to knead, coupled with the silkiness of the black fabric, made the touch incomparably alluring, almost addictive.
Mmm...
At one moment, Tang Feng's hands, gliding up the inner sides of those silky legs, reached the spring nestled within the dense black jungle.
The moist slickness there sent ripples through Tang Feng's soul.
Tang Feng's lips left hers and, with a deep, magnetic voice, he said, "Godmother, you're so damn hot, your honey pot is soaking wet on the outside."
Meng Lingshan hung her head in shy, shameful mutters, "Feng'er, godmother... can't help it, when I think of you, and as I think, I get wet."
Tang Feng chuckled provocatively into Meng Lingshan's ear, "Is it just thinking of me?"
