Masonic Men - Chapter 1 - The Dialogue - Apprentice Basinger
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Apprentice Basinger sat expectactantly, wondering with mighty anticipation what Grandmaster Cub would ask him. Entrance into the Masonic Order wasn’t guaranteed, and Basinger knew that it would require more than just a sunny grin and a infatuating personality. Basinger had always shoved himself to be the best, wanting to be seen as capable and reliable notably by his older mentors. He knew the Masons suggested him a opportunity to prove himself and be accepted into a fatter fraternity of men much like himself. Of course, like anything else, he did his finest to get ready for the contest and come with a strong, certain presentation. But once he saw Grandmaster Wolf, his fortitude was shaken. The tall, wonderful older man stood a solid sole taller than the youthful initiate. He had a stern yet not unwelcoming appearance, reinforced by the good milky suit he wore. He was practically like an archangel, delivering a message of warning and caution. Basinger perceived he should tread lightly, not wanting to let down his interviewer, but deep down, he found himself dissipated btw he looked at him. The questions commenced simple at first. Information about college and sports and activities fell out of Basinger’s hatch like they were pre-recorded deep in his lungs, set to auto-response from a lifetime of regurgitating the facts and details of what made him stand out amongst his peers. But what amazed Basinger strange, setting him off his routine, was when Grandmaster Cub embarked to ask him about his sexuality. The older man didn’t come out directly and ask him if he was gay, but he hinted at the idea by praying if he’d ever been attracted to men. Basinger perceived like this was a trap, one he had to avoid at all costs in order to get what he wanted. He denied any such feelings, knowing utter well that he was in that highly moment attempting to suppress his awakening to the questioner. Grandmaster Cub was no fool, however. He knew that Basinger was lurking something. He could observe the insignificant ways in which Basinger would steal sights at his body, observing the space inbetween his thighs, even parting his lips ever so scarcely as if in thought about what that spot concealed. Cub knew he had to put Basinger to the test. He told him to eliminate his clothes, leaving just his sheer, milky underwear on. Basinger was bewildered and averse at first, but Wolf’s words were delivered with such authority, Basinger was coerced to comply. And of course, Basinger was unexpectedly happy to do so. Cub could observe that Basinger was sporting a pretty substantial member underneath his sheer underwear. The thin milky fabric draped mildly over an epic size of chisel sprouting upward. Apprentice Basinger didn’t know what to do, knowing that any protestation could put his pose in the order in jeopardy. So he went along with Grandmaster Wolf’s instructions, answering his questions and sitting still in patience. When Grandmaster Cub bound the youthful man’s forearms behind his back, Basinger knew the dialogue was taking a direction he had not prepped for. He’d heard rumors of the insatiable various rituals and ceremonies the Masons performed, but he didn’t think they were still in practice. He had imagined a number of archaic formalities would have been lost to modernization, keeping the organization more aligned with occupational pursuits and tradecraft. But as Basinger’s assumptions embarked to shatter, he saw a dark spot show up on the cloth frosting his cock. It was a small, raw glob forming against the milky material of the underwear. Precum. Basinger was leaking precum onto his shorts, vibrated and exhilarated by the personal way Grandmaster Cub bound him to the chair, keeping him in place. Basinger was bewildered and alarmed, but no more so than when Grandmaster Cub positioned the apex of his long, strong finger down on the spot, catching the liquid on his flesh and softly pulling it away in a silky, thin string. Apprentice Basinger didn’t know if Cub would cast him out for that, but then, to his finish shock, Basinger observed as Grandmaster Cub took the apex of his wetted finger and positioned it in his mouth. The dude trembled, not knowing what the older man was capable of, but finding himself unquestionably desperate to find out...
Apprentice Basinger sat expectactantly, wondering with mighty anticipation what Grandmaster Cub would ask him. Entrance into the Masonic Order wasn’t guaranteed, and Basinger knew that it would require more than just a sunny grin and a infatuating personality. Basinger had always shoved himself to be the best, wanting to be seen as capable and reliable notably by his older mentors. He knew the Masons suggested him a opportunity to prove himself and be accepted into a fatter fraternity of men much like himself. Of course, like anything else, he did his finest to get ready for the contest and come with a strong, certain presentation. But once he saw Grandmaster Wolf, his fortitude was shaken. The tall, wonderful older man stood a solid sole taller than the youthful initiate. He had a stern yet not unwelcoming appearance, reinforced by the good milky suit he wore. He was practically like an archangel, delivering a message of warning and caution. Basinger perceived he should tread lightly, not wanting to let down his interviewer, but deep down, he found himself dissipated btw he looked at him. The questions commenced simple at first. Information about college and sports and activities fell out of Basinger’s hatch like they were pre-recorded deep in his lungs, set to auto-response from a lifetime of regurgitating the facts and details of what made him stand out amongst his peers. But what amazed Basinger strange, setting him off his routine, was when Grandmaster Cub embarked to ask him about his sexuality. The older man didn’t come out directly and ask him if he was gay, but he hinted at the idea by praying if he’d ever been attracted to men. Basinger perceived like this was a trap, one he had to avoid at all costs in order to get what he wanted. He denied any such feelings, knowing utter well that he was in that highly moment attempting to suppress his awakening to the questioner. Grandmaster Cub was no fool, however. He knew that Basinger was lurking something. He could observe the insignificant ways in which Basinger would steal sights at his body, observing the space inbetween his thighs, even parting his lips ever so scarcely as if in thought about what that spot concealed. Cub knew he had to put Basinger to the test. He told him to eliminate his clothes, leaving just his sheer, milky underwear on. Basinger was bewildered and averse at first, but Wolf’s words were delivered with such authority, Basinger was coerced to comply. And of course, Basinger was unexpectedly happy to do so. Cub could observe that Basinger was sporting a pretty substantial member underneath his sheer underwear. The thin milky fabric draped mildly over an epic size of chisel sprouting upward. Apprentice Basinger didn’t know what to do, knowing that any protestation could put his pose in the order in jeopardy. So he went along with Grandmaster Wolf’s instructions, answering his questions and sitting still in patience. When Grandmaster Cub bound the youthful man’s forearms behind his back, Basinger knew the dialogue was taking a direction he had not prepped for. He’d heard rumors of the insatiable various rituals and ceremonies the Masons performed, but he didn’t think they were still in practice. He had imagined a number of archaic formalities would have been lost to modernization, keeping the organization more aligned with occupational pursuits and tradecraft. But as Basinger’s assumptions embarked to shatter, he saw a dark spot show up on the cloth frosting his cock. It was a small, raw glob forming against the milky material of the underwear. Precum. Basinger was leaking precum onto his shorts, vibrated and exhilarated by the personal way Grandmaster Cub bound him to the chair, keeping him in place. Basinger was bewildered and alarmed, but no more so than when Grandmaster Cub positioned the apex of his long, strong finger down on the spot, catching the liquid on his flesh and softly pulling it away in a silky, thin string. Apprentice Basinger didn’t know if Cub would cast him out for that, but then, to his finish shock, Basinger observed as Grandmaster Cub took the apex of his wetted finger and positioned it in his mouth. The dude trembled, not knowing what the older man was capable of, but finding himself unquestionably desperate to find out...
Added: 2021-10-30 • Views: 63 • Duration: 17:28
