Because of the intense movement from dancing just now, the hem of her shirt had long come untucked from her waistband, swaying slightly with her actions.
The faintly visible "battle shorts" once again intruded into view, the black, white, and red entwining like a silent shockwave striking directly at Tang Song's eyes.
Dry mouth, racing heart.
More importantly, Xiao Jing, with her round glasses, still wore an expression of obedient quietness, looking like one of those top students in school, excelling and reserved.
This strong sense of contrast made it utterly irresistible.
His nature was actually quite "simple," and if it weren't for the pressure from the condom, he wouldn't have committed such acts of a jerk.
Thus, facing three girlfriends at once, he felt slightly embarrassed and awkward.
Yet under Jing's repeated "provocations," his rationale gradually weakened, yellow energy flooding his mind.
Tang Song's eyelid twitched, his hand raised and fell.
