“Hard already?” she asked.

Feng Yi nodded shyly, then, realizing she couldn’t see, quickly mumbled, “Mm.” His voice, usually clear and pure, was now hoarse and low, thick with desire.

“Then why are you just standing there? What were you doing before?”

Feng Yi felt a strange tension. Even with his usual boldness, m4sturbating under his beloved's gaze felt… exposing. His fingers, sticky with fluid, swiped against his thigh. He took a few deep breaths, his abs contracting, then gripped the base of his p3nis and began to stroke.

He was so arovsed, the thought of Qiao Li watching, even enjoying the sight, filled him with a strange joy. He just hoped he wouldn't appear too undignified, lest she be repulsed.

“Mm…” His mind raced, the pleasure intensified. Just a few strokes and his back arched; the touch was almost too much. His hand felt like someone else’s, as if Qiao Li, miles away, was the one stroking him.

The sharp pleasure wasn't just physical; it stemmed from a deep sense of satisfaction and the thrill of pleasing her. For someone experiencing this kind of intimacy for the first time, the emotional impact was intoxicating.

Qiao Li wished he were closer; it was hard to see clearly. She rarely paid attention to a man's body, but Feng Yi was captivating. His muscles were smooth, defined but not overly bulky. His p3nis was thick and long, beautifully shaped, and even his abundant pubic hair seemed vibrant and full of life, not messy or unclean.

“Come closer,” she said. “I can’t see very well.”

Feng Yi’s breathing was ragged, his movements quickening. “Uh…ha…are you watching me?” he stammered.

“Yes.”

The single word sent a jolt through him. He took a large step forward, his er3ction aimed directly at the camera, almost as if to thrust into it.

Qiao Li recoiled slightly, then realized how ridiculous she must look. Staring at the image filling her screen, she swallowed involuntarily.

“Can you…see clearly now?” Feng Yi asked between gasps, his hand moving constantly.

Qiao Li shifted to a more comfortable position, slipping a finger into her mouth and nibbling on it gently. “Mm, I can see clearly now. I can see your tip leaking.”

“Mm…” Feng Yi shuddered. He liked it, but it was also mortifying. He was unsure of his own body, never considering himself attractive. He craved her acceptance, wanting her to like all of him, yet he instinctively felt his lower body was ugly and secret, something inherently undesirable.

“Touch your tip,” Qiao Li instructed.

He obeyed, poking his finger at the opening. He hadn’t been gentle, and the mixture of pain and pleasure made him arch his back and groan, bracing himself against the sink as he gasped for air. His abs rippled, his p3nis twitching almost imperceptibly. The veins in his arms, gripping the porcelain, bulged. He looked powerful, yet strangely vulnerable.

Qiao Li ached to have him there with her. The visual feast was tantalizing, but her body felt empty. She sucked on her finger, then, struck by an idea, flipped the camera. “Feng Yi, look at me.”