marikazemus

Dio and Creed - Going down on my baby (Patreon)

Published:

2016-03-22 01:24:43

Edited:

2016-04-03 21:17:36

Imported:

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I can sympathize with an artist wanting to present their work, being a painter myself. My Creed is a sculptor, if his naked torso speaks for anything. Catching him alone, with nothing more important to do, I touch him. He's used to me doing this. His body is worthy of every gaze given to him when he walks along the pier. Those floozies can have him, because he always saves the most of his passion and manhood for me.

And then there's a look. Not a grand speech or a suggestion, merely a look. An angling of his eyebrow and a sly smirk. It says so many things, but all of them coalesce into a single want: Me.

A bull's tongue is an eloquent speaker, and Creed makes a soliloquy within my mouth. He makes love to my tongue and fills my mouth with his saliva. I want to drink it like fine wine.

My body quivers and moves on its own. Suddenly, saliva is sweet, but not good enough. I need something more viscous in my mouth. In my desperation, I can't close my mouth fast enough. A beautiful blend of juice drips from my tongue as my knees go weak. I descend upon Creed.

Unless I'm unable to speak for the next three days, I won't be satisfied.

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