Oh no not the viagra cigars
Fr tho increased libido? For out inexperienced witch? Please have mercy on her nooo
He's saving one of the cigars to use on the witch and it is just gonna dumby her to get hit with her own magic. She cannot handle Price and he loves it.
The air is heavy with smoke, you thoughts are swirling with it. Resinous and intoxicating. Tobacco and wild magic.
You drag your tongue up the fat heavy cock in front of you, eyes glassy and unfocused as you try to keep them locked on Price. His big hand cups the back of your hand, keeps you held close and panting against his cock. What is that in the air? You can just smell it under the tobacco, under the cold woodsy scent of the man in front of you.
High John the Conqueror, your brain churns, sluggish from the magic in the air.
Your eyes lid, head tipping to kiss the length of his cock as you grind your dripping cunt against his boot. He tastes like sweat and salt, and magic, like something powerful and unchanging. Your tongue traces every vein, lapping at the pre-cum that drools from the thick head. Your hands press against the wood floor, giving yourself an extra point of balance for your canting hips.
"Such a greedy little whore," Price lets smoke drip down towards you, "Don't look so innocent from here." His words simmer like fire in your stomach. Smoke filling your nose, making you wetter, making his cock harder and hotter against your tongue.
You open your mouth wide, stretching your lips around his cock, feeling his hand guiding you down his length as you suck. His magic swirls through your thoughts like the smoke in the air, clouds them, dampens inhibitions. But not shame, no you think he wants you to feel that. To know fully that you're on your knees, so desperate for him that you're willing to take anything he'll give you. Even if that's a cock down your throat and a boot against your cunt.
"All of it," Price tells you, his hand a steady weight, pushing you down his cock. You whine, swallowing as best you can, laving your tongue against the veins lining the underside of his shaft to try and slick the process. You try to pull back and find yourself trapped by his careful fingers. His fingers are so warm where they touch your scalp. Magic. He's pumping you full of some sort of magic as he eases you down his length.
You look up at him, whine around his cock stretching out your throat. He looks like a God staring down at you, uncaring but attentive, hazy but perfectly focused. He reshapes your throat to fit him, insistent on pushing you down until your nose presses against the coarse hair trailing his stomach.
The warmth from his magic fades, and you gag. Your eyes give wide, clouds around your mind clearing just enough. He was stopping your gag reflex. You try to breathe, try to swallow around the thick cock holding your throat open, try to push down the gag. Price hums, watching your brows furrow as you try to sort yourself out. You don't know how to do this, you don't know why he won't let you off.
"You have to learn witch," he tells you with a smile, tipping his head back to watch the smoke filling the room, hardly paying you any mind, "Such a good girl f'me, playin' like you dont love it."
You shiver, closing your eyes to try and focus on the knot in your stomach, and not on the knowledge that he's right.
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