Don't Waste The Ingredient

"Why don't you let me help you get it out?" she cooed, and her tongue was in his ear, circling and tickling him. Every muscle in Melvin's body clenched, but he made no attempt to escape her clutches. Things like this never happened to him; being seduced by an exotic and beautiful woman, a complete stranger, was out of the question. Could this really be happening? Doubts mounted in his mind; panic began to set in. Should he leave now while he still could?

Then the witch slipped a hand down his pants, took a hold of his hardening manhood, and made his decision for him. He'd never get a chance like this again. Might as well enjoy it, right?

She began to stroke him slowly in his pants, and Melvin's eyes widened and his mouth gaped, his tongue lolling inside of his mouth. Oh shit, he was going to shoot his shot right now!

"No, no, bad boy," the witch gripped him hard, her long nails digging into his sensitive tissue, and Melvin's pleasure was lost in a bolt of pain. He grabbed her arm, trying to get her to let go. The witch placed the blue bottle of love juice back on the shelf and used her newly freed hand to lightly slap Melvin on the face.

"We can't use your cum if you just shoot it all over yourself," she chastised him. "How do you expect to satisfy anyone if you lose it within twenty seconds?"

Her grip lessened on his erection and began to work on him again with swift sweet strokes. Her other hand began to unbutton the front of his pants. Melvin took some big, gulping breaths. His heart fluttered in his chest.

The witch kissed him, her lips encasing his, her tongue slipping out and licking his lips, her breath warm on his face. Melvin felt the dizziness in his head threaten to buckle his knees and swat him out of his reverie. He clenched his eyes, trying to focus, feeling her hands roaming and stroking him, her lips on his own, her body pressed against his.

She undid his pants and slid them to his ankles. He felt her body work against his, grinding, slipping down to her knees. Her hands dipped into his boxers and fished out his straining boner. Melvin hoped to God she didn't giggle at its size. He was average-sized, or so he'd read, but a woman like this probably could have any kind of dick she wanted. Could she be satisfied with something merely average? He thought not.