Masonic Boys - Apprentice Tyler - Chapter 2
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I know you shouldn't lie, and I know it's not shittily brainy to lie to an imposing figure like tormentor Figata. Still, when he asked if I did or did not like men, I reflexively told him I didn't. Of course, that was wrong; he knew what tormentor Kamp had got out of me during my earlier interview with The Order. …More than just the truth. And yet, years of stashing my longest-held secret reflexively took over, even in the face of a Grandmaster. tormentor Figata, his wizened face etched with a dubious look, asked me to stand. He had me liquidate my pants, then suit, tie, and ultimately my collared shirt, leaving me down to nothing but my undergarments. An inward obedience guided me thru the motions, led by Figata's voice. It took charge when I was hesitant and, as tormentor Figata's hands revealed to me, it was far more fair than I was. My erection, unsheathing how much I was revved on by being ordered by older men, pressed out against my apparels and stained the front with precum. tormentor Figata brushed his hands shortly across the tip of my member, and just that slight motion sent a spark coursing thru the nerves of my body. It made me whinge with need. How good it felt, I thought, to have the truth wooed out of me. He went behind me, and reached his palms over mine. tormentor Figata's stony hands squeezed my pecs, groping them stiffly enough that when his hands relaxed, I sensed the ghost of his energy still in the flesh. I shuddered. The way he massaged me, kicking the muscle fully in his large palm, then working his grab mildly toward the tip of my nipples, sent waves of gusto coursing thru my body. It was so titillating — being manipulated like an object, like a toy. obliging me to uncover secrets to someone of such great power, who seemed to know exactly how to bring my bod to the edge with practiced motions. My gams were weak, and my knees trembled. tormentor Figata looked at me with that warm, welcoming sneer and said nothing. He just kept kneading my chest, squashing and kneading my pecs, from time to time using a thumb to shovel hard on one nip or another. With words of command I understood before I could even think about them, I found myself on all 4s on top of the Master's cleared wooden desk. He traced the lines of the desk with the tip of his finger as he walked behind me. With his hands upon me, he instructed me to opened up my gams just a little wider. I complied, my bod shaking with arousal as he pulled my undergarments down. Those same strong hands that nursed my front, now squeezed and massaged my rear. "Beautiful," he murmured. It sensed good to be complimented, but finer to be toyed with. Mr. Figata brought his face between my cheeks. He lapped at my entrance, and the plunge of his wet tongue put me in a sort of trance — I bent back against him, instinctively. He obliged, working a palm underneath my ass cheeks and holding me sustained as he attacked my hole. tormentor wooed me into a madness with each lap, from time to time finger-tickling me as he caught his breath. tormentor Figata's tongue tempted me into a rhythm that made me forget both time and place. When the last video slipped out of me, I almost collapsed onto the desk, overcharged with pleasure. He rose up above me — I heard the clattering noise of his unbuckling belt as it dropped onto the floor. He took his boner in one hand, wanking himself slowly, then dipped it into my hole. I had never sensed such pleasure. His XXL manhood, like a heavy muscle, wedged and kneed into me. It made my balls draw up taut inside. My bod complied wordless orders of submission. I could only grunt as he drove into me, and I permitted myself to be spread. Each time this tormentor thrust into my ass, I sensed as if I were going to fly apart. And with each thrust he found, thru some divine force, my guts — that little node of nerves tucked up inwards of me that bombarded me with sensation. As his rhythm quickened, he rolled me over onto my back. It was the first-ever time since he brought me to the desk that I got to look at his face, which glowed with purpose. He boinked me over and over, and permitted me to stroke my own hard boner alongside him. I didn't realize that this was The Order's lesson guiding my hand, for I was so lost in the waves of gusto that no thought came to me at all. I just wanted to cum. And I wanted tormentor to spunk inwards me. As if to feast my wordless admission, tormentor whipped out and milked off his own much thicker boner alongside mine. We exploded, together, and anointed my inward hips with collective seed. We laid like that for a brief time, joined in collective carnality, sweaty, and spent. He ran his thumbs thru my hair, cleaned me up with a nearby towel, then clad me properly. I left tormentor Figata's office with a far finer understanding of The Order, myself, and the value of truth. It was one of the finest days of my life—and it was still but one of many lessons The Order, and my fresh masters, had designed for me. After what tormentor Figata trained me, I was prepped to face them. All of them, and as frequently as possible.
I know you shouldn't lie, and I know it's not shittily brainy to lie to an imposing figure like tormentor Figata. Still, when he asked if I did or did not like men, I reflexively told him I didn't. Of course, that was wrong; he knew what tormentor Kamp had got out of me during my earlier interview with The Order. …More than just the truth. And yet, years of stashing my longest-held secret reflexively took over, even in the face of a Grandmaster. tormentor Figata, his wizened face etched with a dubious look, asked me to stand. He had me liquidate my pants, then suit, tie, and ultimately my collared shirt, leaving me down to nothing but my undergarments. An inward obedience guided me thru the motions, led by Figata's voice. It took charge when I was hesitant and, as tormentor Figata's hands revealed to me, it was far more fair than I was. My erection, unsheathing how much I was revved on by being ordered by older men, pressed out against my apparels and stained the front with precum. tormentor Figata brushed his hands shortly across the tip of my member, and just that slight motion sent a spark coursing thru the nerves of my body. It made me whinge with need. How good it felt, I thought, to have the truth wooed out of me. He went behind me, and reached his palms over mine. tormentor Figata's stony hands squeezed my pecs, groping them stiffly enough that when his hands relaxed, I sensed the ghost of his energy still in the flesh. I shuddered. The way he massaged me, kicking the muscle fully in his large palm, then working his grab mildly toward the tip of my nipples, sent waves of gusto coursing thru my body. It was so titillating — being manipulated like an object, like a toy. obliging me to uncover secrets to someone of such great power, who seemed to know exactly how to bring my bod to the edge with practiced motions. My gams were weak, and my knees trembled. tormentor Figata looked at me with that warm, welcoming sneer and said nothing. He just kept kneading my chest, squashing and kneading my pecs, from time to time using a thumb to shovel hard on one nip or another. With words of command I understood before I could even think about them, I found myself on all 4s on top of the Master's cleared wooden desk. He traced the lines of the desk with the tip of his finger as he walked behind me. With his hands upon me, he instructed me to opened up my gams just a little wider. I complied, my bod shaking with arousal as he pulled my undergarments down. Those same strong hands that nursed my front, now squeezed and massaged my rear. "Beautiful," he murmured. It sensed good to be complimented, but finer to be toyed with. Mr. Figata brought his face between my cheeks. He lapped at my entrance, and the plunge of his wet tongue put me in a sort of trance — I bent back against him, instinctively. He obliged, working a palm underneath my ass cheeks and holding me sustained as he attacked my hole. tormentor wooed me into a madness with each lap, from time to time finger-tickling me as he caught his breath. tormentor Figata's tongue tempted me into a rhythm that made me forget both time and place. When the last video slipped out of me, I almost collapsed onto the desk, overcharged with pleasure. He rose up above me — I heard the clattering noise of his unbuckling belt as it dropped onto the floor. He took his boner in one hand, wanking himself slowly, then dipped it into my hole. I had never sensed such pleasure. His XXL manhood, like a heavy muscle, wedged and kneed into me. It made my balls draw up taut inside. My bod complied wordless orders of submission. I could only grunt as he drove into me, and I permitted myself to be spread. Each time this tormentor thrust into my ass, I sensed as if I were going to fly apart. And with each thrust he found, thru some divine force, my guts — that little node of nerves tucked up inwards of me that bombarded me with sensation. As his rhythm quickened, he rolled me over onto my back. It was the first-ever time since he brought me to the desk that I got to look at his face, which glowed with purpose. He boinked me over and over, and permitted me to stroke my own hard boner alongside him. I didn't realize that this was The Order's lesson guiding my hand, for I was so lost in the waves of gusto that no thought came to me at all. I just wanted to cum. And I wanted tormentor to spunk inwards me. As if to feast my wordless admission, tormentor whipped out and milked off his own much thicker boner alongside mine. We exploded, together, and anointed my inward hips with collective seed. We laid like that for a brief time, joined in collective carnality, sweaty, and spent. He ran his thumbs thru my hair, cleaned me up with a nearby towel, then clad me properly. I left tormentor Figata's office with a far finer understanding of The Order, myself, and the value of truth. It was one of the finest days of my life—and it was still but one of many lessons The Order, and my fresh masters, had designed for me. After what tormentor Figata trained me, I was prepped to face them. All of them, and as frequently as possible.
Added: 2024-12-22 • Views: 5 • Duration: 29:57
