[ Graves' voice is a low, dangerous purr when Credence turns around in his arms, and his gaze flicks up to the singer, beautiful and sensuous as she is. He's already hard, there's no pretending -- everything that Credence is tantalizes and titillates, and he will give him all that he demands. He's come such a long, long way, his sexuality awakened and tended, carefully cultivated to blossom, and Graves senses how the others' heads turn to the beautiful boy in his arms.
Credence's robe has fallen open, smooth as water, to reveal pale, smooth skin that anyone would kill to worship, to press their mouths on it in open reverence. He knows, too, that more than a handful of their esteemed, anonymous guests are here for Credence, for how that expensive scrap of cloth that passes for underwear accentuates the shape of his cock and his balls, and the shape of his sensuous, full mouth that promises a world of sin.
And Graves is the man who has him, his teeth scraping over his earlobe when the singer looks over, and he holds her gaze fearlessly, a hand splayed possessively over Credence's chest and sliding down, down, pushing his underwear down to let it slip down his hips, trapped at his thighs. The true prize is his cock when it springs free, and the singer breaks her gaze to stray downwards, her eyes on Credence's cock, his heavy balls as Graves exposes his husband to her, puts him on display the same way she is. He's stroking Credence's cock now, light fingers moving up and down the shape of his dick, thumbing over the slit and showing him off.
Look at Credence, look how he steals the show with a body that's meant to be fucked, to be debauched and ravished. ]
You are to call me that the entire night. [ He growls softly in his ear, free hand coming to ease the plug out of his ass, sliding the toy back into his pocket. ] Do you see how they're craving you, my boy? How she's looking at you? Would you like her sweet, soft cunt tonight?
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[ Graves' voice is a low, dangerous purr when Credence turns around in his arms, and his gaze flicks up to the singer, beautiful and sensuous as she is. He's already hard, there's no pretending -- everything that Credence is tantalizes and titillates, and he will give him all that he demands. He's come such a long, long way, his sexuality awakened and tended, carefully cultivated to blossom, and Graves senses how the others' heads turn to the beautiful boy in his arms.
Credence's robe has fallen open, smooth as water, to reveal pale, smooth skin that anyone would kill to worship, to press their mouths on it in open reverence. He knows, too, that more than a handful of their esteemed, anonymous guests are here for Credence, for how that expensive scrap of cloth that passes for underwear accentuates the shape of his cock and his balls, and the shape of his sensuous, full mouth that promises a world of sin.
And Graves is the man who has him, his teeth scraping over his earlobe when the singer looks over, and he holds her gaze fearlessly, a hand splayed possessively over Credence's chest and sliding down, down, pushing his underwear down to let it slip down his hips, trapped at his thighs. The true prize is his cock when it springs free, and the singer breaks her gaze to stray downwards, her eyes on Credence's cock, his heavy balls as Graves exposes his husband to her, puts him on display the same way she is. He's stroking Credence's cock now, light fingers moving up and down the shape of his dick, thumbing over the slit and showing him off.
Look at Credence, look how he steals the show with a body that's meant to be fucked, to be debauched and ravished. ]
You are to call me that the entire night. [ He growls softly in his ear, free hand coming to ease the plug out of his ass, sliding the toy back into his pocket. ] Do you see how they're craving you, my boy? How she's looking at you? Would you like her sweet, soft cunt tonight?