Chapter 64: Making, Type (4)

And Cheng Yifei did not have a red face.

When Cheng Yifei is painting, he likes to hold a cigarette in his mouth, and then pinch an oil paintbrush in his fingers, and the colors on the brush are colorful.

Cheng Yifei's hands holding paintbrushes and cigarettes are very beautiful, his bones are slender and elegant, his fingertips are pointed, slightly pale white, his nails are neatly trimmed, and they are clean, as clean as the white shirts on his body - Cheng Yifei likes to wear white shirts, those white shirts of the world's top brands that are too expensive to be more expensive, dazzling and dazzling, even at home, even when painting, the white shirts on his body are also white shirts.

The neckline of Cheng Yifei's white shirt is always very low, so low that people can see the skin on his chest at a glance, as well as those dense chest hairs.

Every time I see those chest hairs, I can't help but blush.

Why do people who are so tall and thin, so fair, have such sexy chest hair like Western men? -- You know, not every Chinese man has chest hair, and Jiang Ziyu doesn't.

I don't know why, seeing Cheng Yifei's chest hair, smoking a cigarette, and squinting his eyes, I can't help but think of Jiang Ziyu.

I also wondered, if Jiang Ziyu knew that I shamelessly opened my thighs, showed my hidden places in the eyes of other men, and painted them for others, would Jiang Ziyu be angry? Would he scold me for being cheap? Also, would he spit on me?

I do not know.

I don't even dare to imagine.

Cheng Yifei painted very quickly, and it didn't take long to complete a painting. Cheng Yifei's painting is very beautiful, so beautiful that it is amazing - in the painting, I turned my face sideways, the waterfall of straight black hair slanted down, covering all the face, and the hair fell to the chest, just covering the small pink "cherry" on the chest.

My breasts, in my hair, looming. What's even more seductive is my delicate body curves, as well as a pair of legs, slender, smooth, sexy, and flirtatious.

On top of my hips, there was a round piece of transparent plexiglass, on which stood a small white kitten, with wide eyes, leaning down, staring motionless with a curious expression, as if curiously peeping into my private place. But in my private place, I saw nothing but a black mandala that bloomed to the extreme.

Cheng Yifei has a soft spot for black mandalas.

Legend has it that inside every black mandala flower, there is an elf. Elves can grant you wishes, but in exchange for human blood. As long as you water the enchanting black mandala with your own blood, when it blooms, the spirit in the flower will fulfill one of your wishes.

The black mandala can only be watered with its own blood, because those elves like this hot and deadly feeling.

Later, I learned that when I met Cheng Yifei, I became a black mandala, and Cheng Yifei was the spirit in that mandala.

But I can't go back.

Take the first step, and there is no turning back.

My second form is half-lying on a sofa, with my face slightly lowered, my hair covering most of my face, only bright red lips, delicate chin, the dim light pouring like water on my snow-like skin, and my delicate body, unscrupulously naked.

I was still undressed, my naked body, covered with a transparent silk red veil, as if there was a misty red light, floating gently, and in the painting, the black hair in the private parts of my body was faintly visible, and the firm chest.

Cheng Yifei doesn't paint my face, only my body.

Cheng Yifei's body looks so beautiful, holy, beautiful, mysterious, as if there is another me in the world. I stood in front of the painting, looked at it, and felt that I was not real or real.

Is this me?

It seems to be, and it doesn't seem to be.

(To be continued)