Masonic Fellows - Apprentice Serg Shepard - Chapter 5 - The Covenant
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It perceives like forever since I arrived here. I was terrified, excited, and immensely naive. I had no idea what was coming my way and how broad my eyes were about to be opened. I’m told that the covenant is one of the last rituals in an apprenticeship. Within months it would all be over, and who knows where fate would take me. If I’ve learned nothing else here, however, it’s that I should never dread the future. The future is where arousing memories are made. I was sated to discover that sir Figata and sir Weston had been selected to oversee the ceremony. I had grown affixed to both studs during my time here. They were jointly responsible for initiating me into an infinite world of sexual fulfillment and I therefore owed so much to them. One of the chamber servants provided me with a flimsy milky ceremonial gown to wear. It was made from a multi-pleated length of fabric which looked like a complex chunk of origami. It took the longest time to work out how I was meant to wear it and, despite it being made from copious amounts of material, when I ultimately controlled to get it on correctly, I realized how tiny of my bod it was covering. I was instructed to crawl into the room, which was light and airy and lined with billowing curtains. They didn’t glance too dissimilar from the gown I was wearing. sir Figata was sitting on a soft, bed-like bench in the center of the room, decked out all clever in a well-fitting, milky suit and tie, legs suggestively parted. sir Weston was standing, somewhat aloofly, at the back of the space. I perceived a flutter of nerves; a delectation I’ve learned to love because it means my bod is subconsciously prepping itself to take a dive into the unknown. All apprentices are encouraged to read as much material as they can about the covenant ritual. It is essentially an expression of subservience to the brotherhood, one which signifies an apprentice’s absolute commitment to The Order. As such, it’s considered the most solemn, mystical and significant of all the ceremonies. One of the books I read described it as quasi-religious, referencing Mary Magdalene washing Jesus’ feet with her hair. It is undoubtedly true that an apprentice must begin by softly washing his master’s feet with a cloth. I’ve never understood the fascination that some people have with feet, but I was astonished by how arousing I found it in reality. I think the muffle in the space really increased the experience. I could hear a distant ticking clock and the soft, involuntary breathes that sir Figata made as he breathed out. The mild rustle my cloth made as I ran it up and down the feet of the master’s feet made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I attempted to make the practice as tempting and erotic as I could. I wished him to want me. Before long, I was ordered to stand up. sir Figata moved in front of me and softly ran his giant mitts over my shoulders, and over the skin on my upper chest, which had been uncovered by the cut of the gown. I instantly perceived my heart thumping with enlivenment as I looked into his wise eyes and caught a peek of sexual intent showing from within. He revved me around and continued to grope me, pausing only to eliminate his suit jacket. The gown I was dressed in was confined together by a single bow of fabric, which he highly casually undid, causing the entire thing to billow to the ground, leaving me completely naked, my wood spasming with adrenalised anticipation. He commanded me to get onto the bed, which was adorned completely in milky sheets with a single, deep red blanket on the top. It was the only puddle of color in an otherwise gleaming, milky landscape. A reminder, perhaps, that though we like to invent ourselves as pure, we’re all occasionally drawn in by carnal temptation. I squatted on all 4s and introduced my bum to him as dutifully as I could. I could hear the gurgling of him unbuckling his t-shirt handcuffs and liquidating his tie, and then I sensed him getting on all fours down behind me. Of course I knew what was coming. Before lengthy I would perceive the terrific delectation of his tongue slipping inbetween my bum cheeks and into my hole. For the next few blissful mins I would inject an almost hypnotic trance as my bod reacted to every flicker, flutter and shove of his mouth, lips and tongue. By the time he was done, my entire being would have yielded to him, desperate to perceive his wood inwards me. And so it came to pass, but with even more strength than I’d expected. I looked via at sir Weston, still standing in the corner of the room, all of a sudden remembering every last beautiful detail of my first-ever tryst with him, transported to the moment that he ultimately relieved me of my innocence. My attention returned to sir Figata. I was thrilled at the prospect of ultimately taking his dick. Our moment of intimity was the first-ever I'd ever accomplished with a man, but it did not lead to penetrative sex. Of course, I’ve daydreamed ever since about how it might have felt, wondering if I would ever get to practice it in reality. And now suddenly, all of those wishes were coming true. He stood up and ordered me to turn and face him. I glanced down and witnessed the outline of his enormous wood pressing against the cock-squeezing fabric of his suit pants. He unzipped his fly, then shoved his goods toward my mouth. I anxiously set to work, taking fine guzzles of the musky, sexually attractive odor inbetween his legs while using my mouth to ensure that his outstanding member stood pridefully to attention. It’s unlikely to describe how much I wished him, how desperate I was to please him and how keenly I understood that he was my master. Figata then shoved me back down onto the couch and continued to slurp me out. I found myself glancing back toward sir Weston, who was now rubbing his crotch, plainly revved on by what he was witnessing. I looked into his eyes and he smirked at me. At that moment I perceived a deep-seated urge to serve him as well. Then sir Figata stood behind me, dropped his boxers and shoved himself into me. A twinge of discomfort instantly succumbed to a perceiving of calmness. It sounds crazy, but I all of a sudden perceived complete. I looked up at sir Weston who’d approached the couch and was getting on all fours on it. His goods was now less than a duo of feet away from me. sir Figata drilled me with deep, gliding, thrilling strokes, continuously varying the rhythm to keep me on my toes. I was helpless, defenseless to do anything other than groan and pant in reaction to his grinding. It was unlikely not to gaze into Weston’s eyes, willing him to recall the magic of our encounters. Weston reached out and confined me by my chin, shoving his thumb into my mouth, which I thirstily sucked. Time seemed to stand still as I became lost in his eyes. Then he leant forward and shoved his mouth against mine and we smooched with such profound passion. We smooched as equals, sharing our mutual love of the brotherhood. Weston was my sire. sir Figata then ordered me onto my back and Weston confined my legs up as Figata penetrated me, gazing down into my eyes, a glance of concentration and dogged conviction plastered via his face. Then he began to smooch me and I perceived my dedication changing once again to him. Perhaps my fate was to serve him instead? Perhaps it was to serve them both? Perhaps they merely represented The Order, and it ultimately didn’t matter which sir I was in love with at any given moment. Figata’s jerks intensified and he commenced to grunt and groan, plainly ramping himself up toward a release. He released and instantaneously shot his load, wad pouring out of the peak of his wood and spinning down onto my thighs. Seconds later he shoved himself back into me again. As he pulled out, he came for a 2nd time. The wad was still spinning out of his wood as he left the room.
It perceives like forever since I arrived here. I was terrified, excited, and immensely naive. I had no idea what was coming my way and how broad my eyes were about to be opened. I’m told that the covenant is one of the last rituals in an apprenticeship. Within months it would all be over, and who knows where fate would take me. If I’ve learned nothing else here, however, it’s that I should never dread the future. The future is where arousing memories are made. I was sated to discover that sir Figata and sir Weston had been selected to oversee the ceremony. I had grown affixed to both studs during my time here. They were jointly responsible for initiating me into an infinite world of sexual fulfillment and I therefore owed so much to them. One of the chamber servants provided me with a flimsy milky ceremonial gown to wear. It was made from a multi-pleated length of fabric which looked like a complex chunk of origami. It took the longest time to work out how I was meant to wear it and, despite it being made from copious amounts of material, when I ultimately controlled to get it on correctly, I realized how tiny of my bod it was covering. I was instructed to crawl into the room, which was light and airy and lined with billowing curtains. They didn’t glance too dissimilar from the gown I was wearing. sir Figata was sitting on a soft, bed-like bench in the center of the room, decked out all clever in a well-fitting, milky suit and tie, legs suggestively parted. sir Weston was standing, somewhat aloofly, at the back of the space. I perceived a flutter of nerves; a delectation I’ve learned to love because it means my bod is subconsciously prepping itself to take a dive into the unknown. All apprentices are encouraged to read as much material as they can about the covenant ritual. It is essentially an expression of subservience to the brotherhood, one which signifies an apprentice’s absolute commitment to The Order. As such, it’s considered the most solemn, mystical and significant of all the ceremonies. One of the books I read described it as quasi-religious, referencing Mary Magdalene washing Jesus’ feet with her hair. It is undoubtedly true that an apprentice must begin by softly washing his master’s feet with a cloth. I’ve never understood the fascination that some people have with feet, but I was astonished by how arousing I found it in reality. I think the muffle in the space really increased the experience. I could hear a distant ticking clock and the soft, involuntary breathes that sir Figata made as he breathed out. The mild rustle my cloth made as I ran it up and down the feet of the master’s feet made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I attempted to make the practice as tempting and erotic as I could. I wished him to want me. Before long, I was ordered to stand up. sir Figata moved in front of me and softly ran his giant mitts over my shoulders, and over the skin on my upper chest, which had been uncovered by the cut of the gown. I instantly perceived my heart thumping with enlivenment as I looked into his wise eyes and caught a peek of sexual intent showing from within. He revved me around and continued to grope me, pausing only to eliminate his suit jacket. The gown I was dressed in was confined together by a single bow of fabric, which he highly casually undid, causing the entire thing to billow to the ground, leaving me completely naked, my wood spasming with adrenalised anticipation. He commanded me to get onto the bed, which was adorned completely in milky sheets with a single, deep red blanket on the top. It was the only puddle of color in an otherwise gleaming, milky landscape. A reminder, perhaps, that though we like to invent ourselves as pure, we’re all occasionally drawn in by carnal temptation. I squatted on all 4s and introduced my bum to him as dutifully as I could. I could hear the gurgling of him unbuckling his t-shirt handcuffs and liquidating his tie, and then I sensed him getting on all fours down behind me. Of course I knew what was coming. Before lengthy I would perceive the terrific delectation of his tongue slipping inbetween my bum cheeks and into my hole. For the next few blissful mins I would inject an almost hypnotic trance as my bod reacted to every flicker, flutter and shove of his mouth, lips and tongue. By the time he was done, my entire being would have yielded to him, desperate to perceive his wood inwards me. And so it came to pass, but with even more strength than I’d expected. I looked via at sir Weston, still standing in the corner of the room, all of a sudden remembering every last beautiful detail of my first-ever tryst with him, transported to the moment that he ultimately relieved me of my innocence. My attention returned to sir Figata. I was thrilled at the prospect of ultimately taking his dick. Our moment of intimity was the first-ever I'd ever accomplished with a man, but it did not lead to penetrative sex. Of course, I’ve daydreamed ever since about how it might have felt, wondering if I would ever get to practice it in reality. And now suddenly, all of those wishes were coming true. He stood up and ordered me to turn and face him. I glanced down and witnessed the outline of his enormous wood pressing against the cock-squeezing fabric of his suit pants. He unzipped his fly, then shoved his goods toward my mouth. I anxiously set to work, taking fine guzzles of the musky, sexually attractive odor inbetween his legs while using my mouth to ensure that his outstanding member stood pridefully to attention. It’s unlikely to describe how much I wished him, how desperate I was to please him and how keenly I understood that he was my master. Figata then shoved me back down onto the couch and continued to slurp me out. I found myself glancing back toward sir Weston, who was now rubbing his crotch, plainly revved on by what he was witnessing. I looked into his eyes and he smirked at me. At that moment I perceived a deep-seated urge to serve him as well. Then sir Figata stood behind me, dropped his boxers and shoved himself into me. A twinge of discomfort instantly succumbed to a perceiving of calmness. It sounds crazy, but I all of a sudden perceived complete. I looked up at sir Weston who’d approached the couch and was getting on all fours on it. His goods was now less than a duo of feet away from me. sir Figata drilled me with deep, gliding, thrilling strokes, continuously varying the rhythm to keep me on my toes. I was helpless, defenseless to do anything other than groan and pant in reaction to his grinding. It was unlikely not to gaze into Weston’s eyes, willing him to recall the magic of our encounters. Weston reached out and confined me by my chin, shoving his thumb into my mouth, which I thirstily sucked. Time seemed to stand still as I became lost in his eyes. Then he leant forward and shoved his mouth against mine and we smooched with such profound passion. We smooched as equals, sharing our mutual love of the brotherhood. Weston was my sire. sir Figata then ordered me onto my back and Weston confined my legs up as Figata penetrated me, gazing down into my eyes, a glance of concentration and dogged conviction plastered via his face. Then he began to smooch me and I perceived my dedication changing once again to him. Perhaps my fate was to serve him instead? Perhaps it was to serve them both? Perhaps they merely represented The Order, and it ultimately didn’t matter which sir I was in love with at any given moment. Figata’s jerks intensified and he commenced to grunt and groan, plainly ramping himself up toward a release. He released and instantaneously shot his load, wad pouring out of the peak of his wood and spinning down onto my thighs. Seconds later he shoved himself back into me again. As he pulled out, he came for a 2nd time. The wad was still spinning out of his wood as he left the room.
Added: 2025-04-05 • Views: 4 • Duration: 29:32
Categories: Anal, Bareback, Big Dick, Blowjob, Couple, Hardcore, Kissing, Old Man, Softcore • Studio: Masonic Boys • Models: Matthew Figata, Serg Shepard, Kristopher Weston
