Page 122 of Bewitch

“I’ll rather play with your balls,” I admit.

He yanks me back toward the couch. We quickly undress each other, and I go to direct him to sit, but he puts his hands on my hips, stopping my advancement.

“Let me look at you,” he says, eyeing me up and down.

I don’t feel embarrassed, not anymore. Not with him at least. I let him look, and I love the gleam of admiration shining in his blue eyes. His smile never fails to bewitch me, and I even urn around for him to look at my backside.

He slaps my ass. “I want a piece of that.”

“Do you?” I ask playfully, looking at him over my shoulder as I shake my ass.

“You know I do.”

“Should I drop it like it’s hot?” I ask.

“Yes.” His voice sounds raspy, husky, brimming with need.

“You owe me.”

“Owe you what?”

“Dancing. At a club. Strictly to practice my form.”

“You can practice right here, right now,” he says, coming up behind me.

I grind against him, shoving my ass against his cock, and then I drop down, making an upside down “V,” my hands on the ground.

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “Take me.”

“The things you say and do to me, woman.”

I laugh and then suck in a breath as he rubs my ass cheeks before sliding his hands slightly to rest on my hips. He enters me slowly, and I push back against him, wanting him as deep as possible. My boobs bounce, and I dig my fingers into the carpet so I don’t slide away as he continues to thrust in and out.

“Do I drive you wild?” he asks.

“Yes,” I pant.

“Am I the only one you want?”

“Only you.”

“You’re all I need,” he says, starting to pick up speed.

My orgasm is building already, but before either of us can come close to coming, I straighten and then pull way.

He groans, but I ignore him and turn around, cupping his balls.

“I said I wanted to play with your balls, didn’t I?” I whisper.

“Y-Yes…”

“Hmm.”

It’s not that hard for me to drive him back the few steps for him to sit on the couch, and I mount him. My left hand goes around behind me and down to continue to tease his balls as I ride him, slow and steady, my other hand gripping his left shoulder.

“You’re too much,” he murmurs.

“Or am I just enough?” I whisper before I gently squeeze his balls.

---