Cristian Devil
Puppet Master #03, Scene #01
Christian Clay lounges there, cock out and proud, already half-hard and thick between his thighs. He grins like he owns the moment, eyes locked on the camera like it owes him money. His abs tighten when he wraps a fist around the shaft and gives it a lazy pump, letting the slick head peek out of his fist with every stroke. The camera dips low, catches the glint of pre-cum, the slow rise of his balls as he works himself thicker. Then he leans back, spreads his legs wider, and drags his palm over the swollen head, spreading that shine across the whole length till it catches the light. He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at whoever’s watching—before he fists it again, harder this time, chasing that throb he clearly doesn’t plan to hide.
Christian Clay lounges there, cock out and proud, already half-hard and thick between his thighs. He grins like he owns the moment, eyes locked on the camera like it owes him money. His abs tighten when he wraps a fist around the shaft and gives it a lazy pump, letting the slick head peek out of his fist with every stroke. The camera dips low, catches the glint of pre-cum, the slow rise of his balls as he works himself thicker. Then he leans back, spreads his legs wider, and drags his palm over the swollen head, spreading that shine across the whole length till it catches the light. He laughs under his breath—half at himself, half at whoever’s watching—before he fists it again, harder this time, chasing that throb he clearly doesn’t plan to hide.