Release Year: 2023
Studio: Masonic Boys
Cast: Apprentice Monroe, Grandmaster Figata
Genres: anal, bareback, cum, homosexual, giving a kiss, oral-job, rimming

The Order is a secret society, one that is woven within the margins of our world history. Members are the merely ones who know the true nature of the organization, and of the needs of the guys who drift towards it. When the Order calls for an apprentice, they don't do it with language. He might hear words, but meaning is conveyed in other ways, and by other senses. In the quiet, air conditioned hiss of his office, Master Figata asked Apprentice Monroe whether or not this guy was attracted to guys. It wasn't the 1st time Maxx had been asked such a question Master Kamp had too posed this inquiry to the lad in his initial interview with The Order. Regardless of language, and regardless of his choice of words, the magnetism of his body towards Figata's grasp was as clear a response as any. The boy's lips parted in thankful release as the taskmaster exposed him of his strap, panties, and worries. Apprentice Monroe discovered fondness in being bare by men… undeniable fondness. He dreamed of being touched, stroked, kissed... and not just by any guy, but by a fellow of force, and reverence. A dude exactly like Master Figata. Chiseled on the master's face was the legacy and knowledge of the Order, and with it carried the kind of heat that Monroe melted, and wanted to melt, underneath. Master Figata's gentle but firm hands poked his all-but-willing apprentice across the office table. He clutched Apprentice Monroe's rear in his palms. The lad groaned as his pale cheeks were widen apart. Figata's tongue darted in and out of his arse, and weakened him. He tasted the truth there; a quivering aperture cannot lie. He replaced his tongue with a digit, and tested the boy's entrance for willingness, and flexibility. Monroe groaned incomprehensibly, wordless gasps that meant no thing in English, and anything to the Order. A single, authoritative slap to the rear instructed the lad far greater amount than a direct order ever could have. It said him where to go, and what to do. On the floor, to his knees this guy fell. His lips, by instinct, discovered and lapped at the holy instrument of his taskmaster. His head bobbed up and down, cradled in the master's palm. His mouth worked tirelessly. The boy's tongue was slick, and his throat moist, and insane. Eager to smack the flesh of a fellow at the top of the Order, mad for just a drop of the wisdom and strength that comes from up high. The nervous, self-conscious guy that came to his 1st interview was, in the hands of masters, achieving an understanding of his place within the Order. He was changing, not fast. And it was worthwhile as nice as the smack in his face hole. And when the Master pulled out and away, the chap was left breathless, panting, yearning. His body and mind were unable to process the fact that this chab had just given a blow job to a chap and the honor, with it, of that fellow being the grizzled mountain Master Figata. He processed little at all, in fact, beyond his place, and beyond the need to serve greater amount. The Grandmaster, glad that his apprentice's throat had learned that it is use was not to speak but to worship, then brought the guy back to his desk. He splayed him onto his belly and guided his pecker of flesh towards the boy's cheeks. He tested to watch what else the apprentice had learned from his Calling. Monroe whimpered softly at 1st. Then the slavemaster shoved greater quantity, and greater amount, and the further this guy went in, the louder his groans grew. The world changed. Everything became the rhythm of the aged man’s fucking his diminutive homo bottom. Nothing else existed not the office lights, not the worries of the world, not even himself. All that remained was Master Figata's growls of enjoyment, and the pulse of his thrusts. They had merged in enjoyment, and discovered themselves completed by the rituals of The Order. Monroe discovered himself so complete, in fact, that when Master Figata stopped crashing his large dick into his diminutive gap and threw him off the table, that, also, was heaven. The clutch, the grunt of command, the obedience... these were pleasures. To be called to have the Calling these, also, were pleasures. When Master Figata laid himself upon the table and ordered the chap to sit on his face, the wish to obey swelled in the boy's body, and filled his face hole with awkward, cute immediacy. He just now discovered himself sitting upon the elder's face out of question or hesitance. He was not on top, but a toy, a glamorous plaything for the Order to fiddle with. And Figata did fiddle so, along the boy's taint and ravaged aperture, once more and afresh.

Format: mp4
Duration: 27:10
Video: 1920x1080, AVC (H.264), 7735kbps
Audio: 311kbps

File size: 1.6 GB