I huffed and let my head fall forward, bearing my weight on one palm to reach beneath. My teeth grit as I found a grip on his enormous, heavy sac, the heat burning my palm as I squeezed. I joined Eston in shouting, his bellow in earnest pleasure and mine in frustrated effort. But in the busy mess of the stage scene—one with so many amorous pairings to appreciate at once—I was sure no one in the audience would notice the difference.
