Deep in the mountain at night, Huanglongxi winds down the foot of the mountain and passes by Wujiacun. Smoke from the kitchen is curling, and a few lamps can be seen faintly in the darkness of this mountain. Malay Xi rode a tricycle to the front door of Yang Youcai's house, and easily unloaded a bucket of water and carried it in.
He is 19 years old and is from Wujiacun. I died young, and his mother ran away with another man. Feng, a garbage collector in the village, raised him. But as soon as he pushed the door open and walked into the yard, Masisi vaguely heard a woman's voice in the room, panting and intermittent, which seemed particularly uncomfortable.
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Masilet really couldn't resist her inner voyeurism. After all, Jiang is a fair-skinned beauty, and many gentlemen can't help swallowing. Ma Xixiang lightened his pace, and the cat came to the window with bottled water around his waist and looked through the gap in the curtain. The next moment, Ma Xixiang, who was carrying bottled water, was shocked and couldn't move his eyes any more.
At this time, ginger hair was coiled on her head, her face was ruddy and her mouth was slightly open. She didn't seem to dare to shout too loudly, so she made a depressing voice that made people want to stop. What a diversion! Yang Youcai went to accompany the village leader to drink, and the village leader actually did such a thing with his wife at his house.