Feiyan's full red lips closed in a warm, wet embrace around the swollen glans of Qingyi's cock, and even that first portion alone was enough to fill her mouth to its limits.
The corners of her lips stretched generously to accommodate the thickness of the throbbing flesh, a thin trickle of saliva escaping from one side and dribbling slowly down her chin.
She sucked with such force that her cheeks caved in deeply, her cheekbones standing out sharply beneath her skin.
At the same time, her delicate hands seized the fabric of her own dress and, with a single firm tug, tore it clean from her body.
A sharp tearing sound echoed through the pavilion, the fine cloth falling apart as if made of paper under the force of her impatient motion.
Underneath, she wore nothing.
Well, almost nothing.
A black thong, so tiny it was almost nonexistent, covered her most intimate curves.
