They told me not to try to second-guess the types of questions I’d be asked. I bought a new suit, a crisp white shirt and about five ties because I couldn’t work out which one was the smartest. I opted for a blue striped tie—not too fat, not too skinny, blue to match my eyes—and then spent hours in front of a mirror trying to perfect the knot.
I kept catching my reflection in the windows as I walked towards the interview room. I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked so grown up and handsome! No one could tell me I wasn’t looking the part.
The interview room was dazzling white. White furniture and carpet with white drapes lining the walls. It smelt expensive in a kind of masculine way, like the scent that often wafts over you when a wealthy-looking older man passes you in the street.
And I think I found that man.
He was sitting on one of the chairs. I was staggered by how handsome he looked in his white suit. With his shaved head and neatly-cropped beard, I remembered that I’ve been questioning my sexuality a bit of late. A year ago I would have considered myself to be entirely straight, but sometimes I look at a guy—like him—and find myself wondering what it might feel like to play with them.
Master Snow was exactly the sort of guy I find dangerously intriguing. From the moment I sat down next to him I found myself blushing and giggling like a complete imbecile. Then, when he opened his mouth and this deep, resonant voice billowed out, oh man!
His line of questioning wasn’t exactly helping. He went straight in with an absolute doozer: Did I ever masturbate and, if so, how often? I contemplated lying, but he’d told me before we started that honesty was vital, and, frankly, if they’re gonna turn me down because I spend most of my waking hours thinking about my dick, then The Order is not for me! Also, he was kinda fixated on me with his hypnotic blue eyes. All I could actually think about was whether my swelling dick was showing in my tight suit pants.
Then the completely inappropriate questions started tumbling out. Do I touch my nipples when I masturbate? Do I touch my hole? I felt delirious, lost in the swirl between his questioning and eyes. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt him resting his large hand on my thigh. My head immediately started pounding. I must have turned scarlet. Was he trying to put me at my ease? Or was he coming on to me?
He asked if I’d ever seen gay porn and I told him, truthfully, that I hadn’t. He asked if I thought about men when I masturbated and I lied and told him I didn’t. His hand then started creeping towards my crotch. He asked if what he was doing was turning me on, so I lied and said it wasn’t. The truth is that it was turning me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life, but that felt like too long an answer for someone who could barely breathe. He asked if I was willing to prove it and for some ungodly reason I said that I was…
Then he told me to stand and take my pants off. I was astounded. In fact, it took me a few moments to realize that he was being serious. Nevertheless, I found myself rising to my feet, and before I knew it I was dutifully unbuckling my belt and dropping my pants to the ground hoping that my underpants would absorb some of the cause of my embarrassment!
Of course, he wasn’t remotely satisfied with seeing me just like that and I was instantly instructed to remove my tie. My beautifully-knotted tie! I did as told, as swiftly as I could. Then he stood up and started to undo the buttons on my shirt. It felt so profoundly intimate. No one has ever done that to me before. He stared into my eyes and I melted into him, not caring that my dick was now so hard it was tenting in my garments.
He reached out and grabbed it with his hand, rubbing it seductively with a look of almost triumph arrogantly plastered across his face. He looked a bit smug frankly, and to be honest, that look just made him seem even sexier to me.
I was a bit freaked out when he sat me back on the chair and tied my hands behind my back. I became aware of how vulnerable I suddenly was. Maybe I was about to be punished for telling lies? He could plainly tell that I was shaking, but did nothing to put my mind at rest.
Then he started to touch me again in ways I can’t begin to describe. He was masterful, yet sensual. He made me grunt and gasp uncontrollably. It was as though every part of me was suddenly hard-wired to my dick. I wanted him so badly. By the time he started to press his lips against the head of my penis, I genuinely thought I was going to explode. I was utterly helpless. I was his.
He continued to manipulate my body. He spread my legs wide apart, pushed his large fingers against my hole. While sucking me off, his soft tie brushed gently over my stomach. My body was aching for his touch. Then he kissed me. I felt his rough stubble pressing against my chin and his tongue swirling its way into my mouth. I felt like I was in a movie, on display.
He started to suck me again and I found my hips driving into his mouth. It felt good. Real good. He told me to cum for him. To be honest, it was a relief to be given permission to let go. I could feel it tingling in my balls, bursting to free itself from my body.
We kissed again and I suddenly felt it gushing out of my dick in quantities which totally shocked me. Squirt after squirt, flying insatiably onto my chest and thighs as my body shook.
If this is how it feels to be part of The Order, I hereby dedicate my entire life to it!
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