"It's still missing an ingredient," the witch said, putting the bottle behind her back, warding Melvin off with her free hand by pushing it against his chest. Her blue eyes sparkled. She would enjoy toying with this one. He was like a puppy with his big hopeful eyes and harmless nature. Why not cuddle?

"Ingredient?" Melvin asked. His head felt a little dizzy, drunk almost. He blinked, trying to find that foundation inside of him that kept his inhibitions and logic at the forefront of his thoughts when he felt both trying to slip away after a few drinks. Only, tonight he hadn't had anything to drink. He figured that the woman, the one who claimed to be a witch, had something to do with his lightheadedness. She was intoxicating.

The witch leaned in and whispered into Melvin's ear, her hand moving up from his chest and stroking his hair. Her body brushed against his, and Melvin became very aware of her breasts pressing into his chest. He began to tremble in fear and anticipation. What was she up to?

"To make this potion yours and only yours, you must add your own special essence," she said and licked his ear lobe with a flick of her tongue. Melvin tensed.

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"Essence?" he croaked.

"Your semen. Cum. Spunk. Jizz. Baby batter."

She ticked the names off her fingers, punctuating each word with a smirk, and continued, "Whatever you want to call it, the potion has to have it to work." Her free hand roamed along his back, took a hold of his ass and pushed his crotch against her thigh. She rubbed against him with her leg, feeling the heat building through his pants.