Under Yang Fan's alternating assault of lips and tongue, Yang Yuan's petite body softened into a puddle of mush in no time.
She gasped deeply, moans rising and falling one after another, her little face redder than the night she was drunk off her senses.
A tempting red shone through the white, her delicate, tender skin garnering pity.
Yang Fan buried his head in that enticing Golden Valley, his hands simultaneously creeping up her slender waist.
Seeing this, Yang Yuan took the initiative to lift her floral strappy top.
The sweltering summer provided ample convenience for such activities, no need to fuss over undressing. A mere reach would lead him directly to the core, to touch that soft spot.
Although Yang Yuan had a petite figure, compared to that her two soft mounds were not so small, perfectly filling his grasp—big enough for Yang Fan to play with.
