In a small restroom at the end of the teaching building's corridor.
Ye Qiao leaned against the wall, one of her beautiful, stocking-clad legs held high in the air as Sun Zhe gripped the crook of her knee with one hand. Creases formed in the silk of her stocking where her foot was arched, adding a suggestive allure to the smooth fabric. Dangling from her arched foot were a pair of lace panties and her safety shorts.
Since she had studied dance, her body was very flexible, so the single-legged stance posed no difficulty for her.
Sun Zhe stood before her, holding his 'gun' in one hand and using its head to rub against that muddy, fragrant grove. Once she was thoroughly lubricated, the thick, rounded head of his 'gun', swollen with blood, slowly pushed its way between her two wet petals.
"Nghh..."
