"Still," she said. "It might be just as well if I empty your balls before I leave… just to be on the safe side. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, that's a good idea," he said.

Jayne unbuckled his belt.

She unbuttoned the top of his fly and then began to play with the zipper, drawing it down a few inches and then teasingly pulling it up again. But she drew it down a bit farther than she drew it up each time, so that little by little she was moving it towards the bottom.

Jonathon stood still, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. He had begun to breath heavily and his face was taut with expectation.

His fly was wide open.

Jayne let his trousers drop to his feet. He wore white cotton shorts and the outline of his massive cock bulged against the material, a huge white mound stretching the elastic out from his waist and writhing just before her face. She gazed at that lump, licking her lips. Her eyes, too, were narrowed in expectation.

Jonathon stepped out of his pants, leaving them in a heap at his feet.

Jayne cupped his balls again, squeezing, thrilled at how bloated they were – at how full of spunk. She could feel the hard nuts jiggle inside the hairy sac. Jayne loved jism. She loved to see it spurt out from his cockhead, she loved to feel it on her hands, on her breasts, deep within her cunt or bubbling over her nimble tongue. She loved everything about cum – the taste, the texture, the creamy heat.

As she cupped his balls in one hand, she began to play with his cock with the other, caressing him through his cotton undershorts. Her fingers traced up the fat stalk and she fingered the bulging knob.

Jonathon moaned.

A dark, damp patch appeared on his under pants as the head of his prick began to bubble.

Jayne whimpered.

She pushed her tongue out and touched the pink tip against that damp spot, tasting his jism through the material, as if it were some rare sauce that must be strained through cotton to remove the impurities.