Song Tian felt the tender smoothness and moisture at his fingertips, and the delicate tightness of the crease that kept contracting almost made him moan on the spot.
Qin Ying's body tensed slightly, the crevice beneath her invaded by the foreign object; the long-missed sensation urged her to clamp her legs shut, yet being carried on Song Tian's back forced them apart as though impaled.
Moreover, she yearned for the finger to probe even deeper.
Song Tian could tell that Qin Ying merely shuddered, then ceased to struggle, laying on his neck with her breathing growing rapid.
Delighted, Song Tian's fingers played at the entrance of her slit, one finger gradually burrowing into the warm, moist treasure trail that felt exceptionally silky and pleasurable to the touch.
Qin Ying gasped continuously, Song Tian's lone finger adding a much-needed sense of fulfillment to her empty life.
Even the waves of pleasure began to surge within her.