Their robes had somehow slipped away at some point. On the large bed, two warm, pale, and delicate bodies—both beauties, both another man’s wife—were entangled together.
“Xiaoyun, let me give you some pleasure today, alright?” Zhou Jing whispered into Zhou Yun’s ear.
It had been so long since she had done that sort of thing with her husband. Zhou Yun’s heart was filled with yearning, and her sister’s words made her pretty face flush crimson. She could only reply in a soft voice, “Sis, I… we’re both women… how can we… feel pleasure?”
“Heheh… then just watch my technique!” Zhou Jing said proudly. She turned Zhou Yun’s delicate body over so they were facing each other.
Now, four equally proud and sacred peaks faced each other, close enough to touch.
Zhou Jing gazed at Zhou Yun and slowly shifted her body, letting her own similarly sharp and pert snow peaks brush faintly and tantalizingly against Zhou Yun’s large white bunnies. The four peaks ground together; the four little cherries collided like jousting knights. Sparks of desire blossomed on those pointed tips, as if scattering embers…
“Follow my lead…” Zhou Jing’s words were like a magical incantation, leaving Zhou Yun no choice but to obey.
Zhou Jing grabbed Zhou Yun’s full, round, upturned buttocks, cupping them in her palms, and pulled her forward. Zhou Yun’s unprotected petals were forced forward, pressed tightly against Zhou Jing’s squirming petals, and began to rub and grind together.
“Mmm…” A soft, delicate moan escaped both women simultaneously. This act, known among women in ancient times as “grinding beans,” was now being performed on this beautiful, large bed.
Zhou Yun was a ‘white tiger,’ but Zhou Jing was not. She was far more luxuriantly lush than the average woman. That jet-black, unruly thicket tangled and intertwined with Zhou Yun’s snow-white bareness, becoming an inseparable mess. From a distance, one couldn’t even tell whom that black mass belonged to.
Zhou Yun only felt her petals throbbing with wave after wave of excitement. A deep, unbearable itch gnawed at the depths of her soul, like ten thousand insects biting. A pleasure akin to floating amidst the clouds rose from her delicate body. She yearned intensely. Her mind even suddenly conjured the terrifying, monstrous image of Zhao Ran, wishing that could soothe her desperately itching heart…
“Ugh…” Zhou Yun clenched her silver teeth against her cherry lips, her elegant brows tightly furrowed, as if resisting the volcanic, explosive desire erupting within her.
“This feeling… is so strange…”
Zhou Yun’s reason grew increasingly blurred. In her dazed state, she felt as if she were lying on her own bed at home, held in Zhao Ran’s warm, broad embrace as he gazed down at her with deep affection.
Her tender petals were gently entered by that woman-flustering, monstrous thing of Zhao Ran’s, moving in and out with tenderness. Zhou Yun suddenly felt a sense of fullness, as if rising from the very core of her heart. That heavenly, blissful comfort intoxicated her fragrant heart. Sweet, delicate moans escaped her nose in continuous waves.
She never expected that while experiencing such pleasure, the figure appearing in her mind wasn’t her husband’s, but Zhao Ran’s…
Abruptly, Zhou Yun felt one of her snow peaks being captured by a mouth, and her little cherry was bitten hard. The pain brought her a moment of clarity, and she realized Zhou Jing held in her hand a male imitation toy, which was currently thrusting in and out of her peach blossom honey valley wantonly!
“You… you…” Zhou Yun was startled. She struggled to move her body away, causing the toy to slip out of her honey valley with a wet sound.
The toy was glistening and wet, instantly making Zhou Yun blush with shame.
Yet, after that little thing left her, Zhou Yun only felt her heart grow hollow and empty. The feeling of emptiness almost made her want to reach out and push that fake thing back inside herself…