019｜(18) Where to shoot slightly h 300 beads bonus chapter

"Don't be so... perverted!"

Xie Qingyan couldn't bear to look any longer. She covered her eyes, but couldn't suppress her curiosity. She slightly parted her fingers to reveal her face, her heart pounding like a drum.

She only glanced at it; she had never seen a man masturbate before. And it was Su Xingmao, who never said a word or showed any expression.

The thought of someone who usually acts aloof and taciturn, like a flower on a high mountain, masturbating in front of her was enough to make Xie Qingyan feel excited.

Besides, he had already made her hair and clothes disheveled, while he himself remained impeccably dressed and sitting upright, only his straight-legged trousers were slightly wrinkled from her pressing them down.

She looked at him perfectly normally!

After some mental preparation, he was perfectly persuaded. He widened the gap between his fingers, making a bright V sign, but still kept his hands on his face, blatantly peeking while pretending to be ostentatious.

Su Xingmao seemed to rarely masturbate. As soon as his fair fingers grazed her, her glans sensitively secreted clear fluid. Her pink genitals slid down with the fluid trailing from his fingertips... fluid trail?

Good heavens! This bastard actually used the hand she used to massage his vagina to touch his genitals?

Lustful...

"Switch to the other hand!" Xie Qingyan commanded.

Just now, Su Xingmao had inadvertently gotten some of the horse's eye liquid on him.

In a way, the fluids secreted by their passion mingled together.

The water disappears into the water, merging into one.

Her face flushed uncontrollably.

"Hmm?" A low, hoarse sound, almost rolling out of his throat and spilling from his lips: "Why?"

"There's no reason why, just give me a different one."

"Is the kitten shy?" The voice was hoarse and alluring, like a breath coming out.

"Because my hands are covered in kitten saliva?"

So cute.

"Shut up!" Xie Qingyan gritted her teeth.

"Little cat." Cold, white fingers grasped the thick cylindrical object, moving it up and down. The size of the thing appeared unusually large and arrogant in the slender palm, a savageness completely out of place with the person. It teased the ring-shaped crease of the palm, and the fluid that seeped from the tip was illuminated by the chandelier. With the slow stroking, it was pulled into translucent threads.

Extremely erotic.

Her eyes were fixed, almost forgetting to blink or breathe.

Watching a man masturbate so directly is more impactful than reading a comic book, revealing every single detail.

Su Xingmao gazed intently at Xie Qingyan.

"Look at me."

Countless figures overlapped with her: Xie Qingyan holding a painting tray in the sunlight on the back mountain; Xie Qingyan who was bossy and ordered him to do evil when he was young; Xie Qingyan who blinked rapidly when he plucked the flower from her cheek, blushing, shy, angry, with shimmering water in the corners of his eyes.

The long passage of time was stretched into a line, and he stood in the river of time, looking down at Xie Qingyan with utmost rationality and calmness.

Xie Qingyan is usually a boisterous and lively person, but he can sit still for an entire afternoon when he is painting.

The clearest silhouette of her childhood was also in this bedroom. Xie Qingyan set up an easel by the window. The villa was spacious and clearly had a studio and a study, but she refused to go there and preferred to stay in the bedroom, saying that she could lie down and rest immediately when she got tired of painting.

Xie Qingyan would always use various methods, such as pestering and nagging, to force him to help with his homework—which is why his math skills didn't improve in ten years.

With the help of Su Xingmao to deal with difficult problems, she would face the bright sunshine, humming a light tune, and sketching lines and splashing color blocks on the paper with her paintbrush.

The windows were often not closed tightly. The mountains were lush and verdant, and the mountain breeze rustled through the treetops, playfully leaping in through the gaps in the window, hooking her smooth, black hair, and kissing it tenderly from the top of her head to the ends, then lifting up a light, sweet scent of tuberose.

It drifted in leisurely.

It wafted into his nostrils. He paused as he was writing a test at her desk. He sniffed gently and recognized it as the scent of her shampoo—a delicate and pleasant fragrance that lingered in his nostrils for a long time.

As dusk fell and the last rays of the setting sun faded, Xie Qingyan finished a painting. He had long since finished his homework and was quietly leaning back in his chair, watching her for who knows how long.

An endless expanse of fiery clouds, the purplish-gray and rose-red sunset, slowly unfolded behind her backlit silhouette.

Su Xingmao had no idea how beautiful she was in the painting.

But he remembers how beautiful the scene was in his eyes.

Rarely, when Xie Qingyan practiced sketching, he would include him in his paintings. His brushstrokes were sharp, and his lines were rough and hasty, but he never painted his face, only a hasty gray blot.

The constellation Mao recognized itself.

But Xie Qingyan didn't seem to want him to recognize her.

He never exposed it.

...

Fragments of time piece together a complete portrait.

Just as she dipped her paintbrush in paint, creating a beautiful landscape with vibrant colors, he used his eyes as a brush, measuring and silently painting her over nearly ten years.

A myriad of forms.

ten years.

He has known Xie Qingyan for almost ten years, since he was seven years old.

Lust overwhelmed reason, and Su Xingmao's gaze gradually became hazy, sinking into those dark blue eyes that were more magnificent than the sea and deeper than the sky, a deep, mysterious azure, like the sky beneath an abyss.

Drawn to him like a whirlpool, it gradually made him lose his reason and become a slave to desire.

Xie Qingyan never imagined that she would watch a man play with his genitals so intently. Especially someone she used to... and still hates the most.

Su Xingmao was a man who even restrained himself from masturbation. He would only let out very slight, suppressed gasps or long exhales. In winter, she would probably see a string of rising white mist dispersing into the air.

Apart from that, all that remained was the sound of rubbing the sticky, lewd shaft.

The sound of water, breathing, and her pounding heart.

Together they form a concerto unique to tonight.

Su Xingmao's expression was extremely calm, but his brows were furrowed into small peaks, as if he were not enjoying himself, but enduring some kind of great pain.

Beads of sweat, like mushrooms sprouting from his forehead before a storm, soaked his black hair and clung to his temples. His thin lips, as red as pomegranate blossoms, parted and closed, uttering a soft, trembling sound: "Little cat."

"Hmm..." Xie Qingyan responded.

She's been bewitched, Xie Qingyan thought.

Otherwise, why would a light drizzle start falling between her dry legs? It was the dampness of the plum rain season, which would linger for a long time without drying out. She quietly squeezed her legs together.

Xie Qingyan held his breath and concentrated, concealing his damp heart.

The moonlight in the mountains was cool, pressing into the boy's eyes like thin ice, then melting away and turning into a blazing, unrestrained light, as if it were burning away the entire long summer.

The thick, long, and erect penis was thrust into the large palm, gathered and squeezed by the fingers, then slid upwards. The thumb rubbed the glans, the knuckles turning white from tension, the veins pulsating like small snakes.

His breathing gradually increased in intensity, starting from a low, slow pitch.

His Adam's apple bobbed, his chest heaved, his breathing grew heavier, and an uncontrollable groan echoed deep in the empty night.

She blushed deeply.

The feeling of stimulating one's genitals is wonderful; the soul is split in two, one part ashamed to succumb to desire, and the other willing to indulge in sensual pleasures.

What made Su Xingmao most reluctant to stop was not his actions, nor the masturbation itself.

Rather, it was his actions that drew Xie Qingyan's attention.

As she gazed at him, a surge of pleasure rushed through her like lightning, a wave of exhilaration coursing through her spine and shooting straight to the top of her head. His scalp tingled, and his body temperature and heart rate soared.

She stared intently at him, her eyes filled with nothing but him.

She could only look at herself.

From now on, we must keep watching like this forever.

Look at me, only at me.

Suddenly, a slightly self-deprecating thought crossed my mind: Would she?

She was so popular that countless boys at school secretly admired her and boldly confessed their feelings to her.

She's always been fickle, and her hiding in the kitten's shell to play with him is probably just a temporary burst of novelty.

The pleasure and comfort brought by the pouring of cold water were so fleeting.

For a moment, he fantasized that Xie Qingyan was helping him with her hands. Su Xingmao rarely touched her hands, but he still remembered the feel of them—soft and smooth like shimmering brocade, delicate like almond milk.

As the eyelashes of the constellation Su Xing Mao drooped, a star vanished from the firelight in an instant.

Summer is almost over.

"Where to shoot?" His anxious heart gradually calmed down, his voice turned slightly cold, and his aloof expression returned.

There was a moment of silence; she did not answer.

“The kitten won’t tell.” Su Xingmao fiercely grabbed her hand, raised his genitals, and aimed them at her breasts and abdomen: “Do you want me to do something inappropriate?”