The skin on Mo Xiaobai's arm, though exposed to wind and rain, was not rough like most men’s; it remained soft. What surprised Moyao was that the skin felt almost scorching hot, muscles tense to the extreme, covered in sweat.,Males, after all, have times when they use their versatile right hand. He’s not the first to do it, and he himself has done it before, but never had it felt so intense, as if it were merging with his very life.,But now, he couldn’t dwell on it. His entire body relaxed as he lay comfortably under the hot water, letting it wash away something—something that needed to be taken away. With his eyes closed, he thought about his just-now depraved thoughts and wished to whip himself a hundred times.。