Masonic Men - Apprentice Maxx Monroe - Ordination
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It had not been that lengthy since Apprentice Monroe's disciplinary rituals at the palms of Grandmaster Wolf. The Apprentice had been opened up and manhandled beyond measure, but not with cruelty. There had been a superb hollowing out of him, yes, but that which was eliminated from him was doubt, and worry. In its place, directly administered into his assets thru The Order's orgasmic rituals, Apprentice Monroe had found his calling. He found a purpose. Which brought him to that evening's invitation. Tormentor Figata, wearing a milky suit with a crisp milky button down and tie, led the guy with his large, stony palms into a apartment for what was pronounced as his "ordination." The apartment was white, bright, pristine with otherworldly energy, as if it had been plucked from a distant, prior century. There was a temple daybed, sparse furniture, and a couch. Tormentor Figata sat down, and brought the guy with. The Tormentor gawped at the guy with a rigid gaze, eyes glinting with confidence. "You know why you're here, right?" It had been sometime since this Apprentice had last seen Tormentor Figata. The Tormentor was the one who called him into the quiet, air conditioned hiss of the office. There, Tormentor Figata had grilled the young apprentice as to whether or not he was attracted to men. It perceived doofy to have denied the question then—doubly so now, here in the apartment of ordination, where he gave a highly different answer. "Yes," Monroe was blessed to sit on the couch, feeble in the knees by being just in the presence of one of The Order’s masters. Tormentor Figata could sense the difference in the boy's energy, the difference in his awareness of what his objective was—both within The Order and outside it. He unclothed the guy of his tie, then shirt, then trousers. Slowly, with the sanctity it deserves, Tormentor Figata unclothed the apprentice down to just a shred of garment. The boy's getting taller full salute was briefly free-for-all of all constraints. free-for-all to comply its Master. Monroe had not been with many men, only those within The Order, really, but each of those moments was exclusive to him, and charged with revelation. Since The Order had reached out, this was the first time he got to revisit a Tormentor from his prior stage of calling, a time so lengthy ago now that he was sure he had become a different person. Electrical he was by this, when Tormentor Figata did strip down to his own undergarments, the guy could slightly keep himself from drowning his face into his Master's nether regions. There was no need to rush—Master Figata's mighty take hold of slowed the boy, and brought his nuzzles to an servant pace. At first, the taste of the Tormentor was sweet, and not fully unfamiliar. A taste he could place as one of desire, of love, of yearning. But as the Master's scent penetrated the boy's nostrils that sweet taste transformed into something far more arousing. He deepthroated and ball-gagged on Master's massive cock, a combo of drool and precum cascading down his chin, until Figata was pleased with his boy's finesse. Tormentor Figata guided Apprentice Monroe to lie via the couch. Securing the boy's hips in his metal grip, the Tormentor drove his tongue deep inwards that young ass. He slurped him rigid and fast, then pulled back for a moment to sight the guy in the eyes, with an expression of triumph in his face. The Apprentice was yielding, like butter, and had come so far along in his journey. With the same instrument that opened up Monroe's jaw to its limit, Tormentor Figata brought his cock head to the boy's entrance. With one rigid stroke, he was buried to the root inwards the boy's taut ass. Tormentor commenced shoveling slowly, the perceiving of his massive instrument pummeling in and out of the boy's crevice making them both yell in unison. His nut spanked against the young man’s culo cheeks each time the Tormentor fully stuffed inside. The tempo quickened, orchestrated as much by their own passions as by the will of The Order seeing over them. The spirit of The welled up within them both. They were a blur of thrusts, Apprentice and Tormentor fully in sync with each other. Their bods distorted lush the leather sofa until they ended up, hardon-to-hardon, frontism insanely against each other, their slurps lost in combat. Eventually, Tormentor Figata spilled his seed, first on his stomach, and then onto the sofa beneath them. When they had caught their breath, they shared a kiss. When Tormentor Figata first took Apprentice Monroe under his wing, he had not been sure how lengthy the guy would last either physically, or mentally. This experienced Tormentor wanted all that The Order had to offer this worthy apprentice. He ordained the boy's forehead and crevice with the drops of his exalted Master’s seed he knew, now more than ever, that the guy had what it takes.
It had not been that lengthy since Apprentice Monroe's disciplinary rituals at the palms of Grandmaster Wolf. The Apprentice had been opened up and manhandled beyond measure, but not with cruelty. There had been a superb hollowing out of him, yes, but that which was eliminated from him was doubt, and worry. In its place, directly administered into his assets thru The Order's orgasmic rituals, Apprentice Monroe had found his calling. He found a purpose. Which brought him to that evening's invitation. Tormentor Figata, wearing a milky suit with a crisp milky button down and tie, led the guy with his large, stony palms into a apartment for what was pronounced as his "ordination." The apartment was white, bright, pristine with otherworldly energy, as if it had been plucked from a distant, prior century. There was a temple daybed, sparse furniture, and a couch. Tormentor Figata sat down, and brought the guy with. The Tormentor gawped at the guy with a rigid gaze, eyes glinting with confidence. "You know why you're here, right?" It had been sometime since this Apprentice had last seen Tormentor Figata. The Tormentor was the one who called him into the quiet, air conditioned hiss of the office. There, Tormentor Figata had grilled the young apprentice as to whether or not he was attracted to men. It perceived doofy to have denied the question then—doubly so now, here in the apartment of ordination, where he gave a highly different answer. "Yes," Monroe was blessed to sit on the couch, feeble in the knees by being just in the presence of one of The Order’s masters. Tormentor Figata could sense the difference in the boy's energy, the difference in his awareness of what his objective was—both within The Order and outside it. He unclothed the guy of his tie, then shirt, then trousers. Slowly, with the sanctity it deserves, Tormentor Figata unclothed the apprentice down to just a shred of garment. The boy's getting taller full salute was briefly free-for-all of all constraints. free-for-all to comply its Master. Monroe had not been with many men, only those within The Order, really, but each of those moments was exclusive to him, and charged with revelation. Since The Order had reached out, this was the first time he got to revisit a Tormentor from his prior stage of calling, a time so lengthy ago now that he was sure he had become a different person. Electrical he was by this, when Tormentor Figata did strip down to his own undergarments, the guy could slightly keep himself from drowning his face into his Master's nether regions. There was no need to rush—Master Figata's mighty take hold of slowed the boy, and brought his nuzzles to an servant pace. At first, the taste of the Tormentor was sweet, and not fully unfamiliar. A taste he could place as one of desire, of love, of yearning. But as the Master's scent penetrated the boy's nostrils that sweet taste transformed into something far more arousing. He deepthroated and ball-gagged on Master's massive cock, a combo of drool and precum cascading down his chin, until Figata was pleased with his boy's finesse. Tormentor Figata guided Apprentice Monroe to lie via the couch. Securing the boy's hips in his metal grip, the Tormentor drove his tongue deep inwards that young ass. He slurped him rigid and fast, then pulled back for a moment to sight the guy in the eyes, with an expression of triumph in his face. The Apprentice was yielding, like butter, and had come so far along in his journey. With the same instrument that opened up Monroe's jaw to its limit, Tormentor Figata brought his cock head to the boy's entrance. With one rigid stroke, he was buried to the root inwards the boy's taut ass. Tormentor commenced shoveling slowly, the perceiving of his massive instrument pummeling in and out of the boy's crevice making them both yell in unison. His nut spanked against the young man’s culo cheeks each time the Tormentor fully stuffed inside. The tempo quickened, orchestrated as much by their own passions as by the will of The Order seeing over them. The spirit of The welled up within them both. They were a blur of thrusts, Apprentice and Tormentor fully in sync with each other. Their bods distorted lush the leather sofa until they ended up, hardon-to-hardon, frontism insanely against each other, their slurps lost in combat. Eventually, Tormentor Figata spilled his seed, first on his stomach, and then onto the sofa beneath them. When they had caught their breath, they shared a kiss. When Tormentor Figata first took Apprentice Monroe under his wing, he had not been sure how lengthy the guy would last either physically, or mentally. This experienced Tormentor wanted all that The Order had to offer this worthy apprentice. He ordained the boy's forehead and crevice with the drops of his exalted Master’s seed he knew, now more than ever, that the guy had what it takes.
Added: 2024-06-09 • Views: 9 • Duration: 25:35
Categories: Anal, Bareback, Blowjob, Hardcore, Hunks, Kissing, Leather, Office, Rimming, Rough, Twinks • Studio: Masonic Boys • Models: Maxx Monroe, Matthew Figata
