Chapter 46: The symphony of culture.
"Young Master...."
It felt deeper, hungrier, as if the first time had merely unlocked the gate, and now his tongue strode in like a conquering god through her sacred garden, planting flags upon every trembling petal.
Her thighs clenched around his head, trapping him in her heat, her nectar flowing freely now, sweet and thick, pooling on his lips.
Her body was already weak as dry leaves, and highly sensitive.
Yet,
His tongue moved like a serpent and a sage, circling, flicking, then plunging into her sacred depths with a rhythm born not of the flesh but of the very Dao foundation.
"Euckk...." Her tongue moved upwards as his tongue made a very sensitive lick.
He remembers everything...
She thought in dazed agony.
Every fold, every breath, and even every moan.
He’s reading me... as if I’m a scroll he wrote himself...