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Mike Bost
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FRANCO CORELLI
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"In the Company of Titans: The Ritual of Power"
Reginald stood tall and imperious, his portly frame wrapped in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit. His bald head gleamed faintly in the firelight, his thick white mustache a defining feature of his stern, commanding visage. Between his fingers rested a large cigar, the dark wrapper glistening with oils, its ember a glowing reminder of the power he held in every aspect of his life. The smoke curled lazily around him, filling the room with a rich, earthy aroma, an invisible crown marking him as the undisputed master of this space.
Before him, on his knees, was Edward—a young man whose ambition and hunger for approval were palpable. Edward’s lean form contrasted sharply with Reginald’s broad silhouette. His fine suit, though well-fitted, lacked the weight of history and command that Thorpe’s carried. He was here to prove himself, to submit to the authority of the man who had made and broken others with nothing more than his words and his will.
Reginald took a long, deliberate drag from his cigar, cheeks hollowing as he inhaled deeply. The ember flared, illuminating his face in a fiery glow. He let the smoke linger in his lungs before exhaling slowly, a cloud of rich tobacco wafting down toward Edward. The younger man inhaled it reflexively, his throat tightening as the scent wrapped around him. He didn’t just smell it—he felt it, a physical manifestation of the older man’s dominance.
“You understand why you’re here, don’t you, boy?” Reginald’s voice was low, gravelly, carrying the weight of decades of command. It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.
Edward nodded, his gaze flicking upward to meet the Commodore’s piercing eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves roiling in his chest.
Reginald’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his mustache twitching. “Good. Then you know this isn’t about you. It’s about me. About your place beneath me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Edward repeated, his voice quieter now, weighted with the understanding of what was to come.
“Show me,” Reginald said, his tone firm, final. He tapped ash from the cigar into a crystal tray and gestured downward. “Let’s see if you’re worthy.”
Edward shifted forward on his knees, his pulse hammering in his ears. The soft carpet cushioned his movements, but it was the weight of Reginald’s gaze that made him feel the most exposed. The Commodore took another drag from the cigar, blowing smoke directly down at the young man as he undid the buttons of his trousers with measured precision. The sound of the zipper echoed in the quiet room, and Edward’s breath caught as the older man freed himself.
Reginald’s cock was massive, thick and uncut, the foreskin still partially covering the broad, flushed head. It hung heavy, veined, exuding an aura of authority that matched its owner. Edward stared, his mouth dry and his body trembling with anticipation and a hint of fear. He’d never seen anything like it. This wasn’t just a cock; it was a symbol of power, something to be revered and obeyed.
“Open your mouth,” Reginald commanded, his voice a deep rumble. Edward obeyed without hesitation, his lips parting, his tongue flicking out to meet the head of the older man’s cock. The taste of salt and musk hit his senses, overwhelming and intoxicating. He moaned softly, closing his lips around the tip.
Reginald let out a quiet grunt, his free hand settling heavily on the back of Edward’s head. “That’s it,” he murmured, cigar still balanced between his fingers. “Take it in, boy. Feel the weight of it. Learn your place.”
Edward’s jaw stretched as he worked to take more of the thick shaft, his tongue pressing against the underside, tracing every ridge and vein. He gagged slightly as the head brushed the back of his throat, but Reginald held him firm, his fingers tightening in Edward’s hair.
“Relax,” the Commodore instructed, his voice calm but commanding. “Breathe through your nose. You’re mine now, boy. Your throat belongs to me.”
Edward did as he was told, inhaling through his nose, the scent of cigar smoke mingling with the earthy musk of the older man’s arousal. It filled him, surrounded him, claimed him. Reginald began to move his hips, slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of Edward’s mouth in long, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushed deeper, testing the limits of the younger man’s throat.
“You’re doing well,” Reginald murmured, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke. “But I’m not here to coddle you. Open wider. Let me in.”
Edward moaned around the cock filling his mouth, his eyes watering as Reginald began to thrust harder, faster. The wet sounds of saliva and flesh filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the steady exhale of cigar smoke. The older man’s belly pressed against Edward’s nose with each deep thrust, the weight and heat of him overwhelming.
“You feel that?” Reginald growled, his voice thick with lust. “That’s power. That’s what you crave, isn’t it? To be used. To serve.”
Edward couldn’t respond, couldn’t nod, but his moans and the way he sucked, eager and desperate, were answer enough. His throat burned, his jaw ached, but he wanted more. He wanted all of it.
Reginald’s hand tightened in Edward’s hair, holding him in place as he fucked his face with growing intensity. The cigar bobbed between his lips, the ember flaring with each inhale. “Good boy,” he groaned. “Take it all. Let me hear you choke on it.”
Tears streamed down Edward’s face as the thick shaft drove deeper, filling his throat completely. He gagged, his body fighting the intrusion, but he didn’t pull away. He surrendered, letting Reginald take everything he wanted.
The Commodore’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts erratic. “I’m close, boy,” he rumbled. “And you’re going to swallow every fucking drop. Understand?”
Edward moaned, his throat constricting around the cock buried in it. Reginald groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, hot spurts of cum flooding Edward’s mouth and throat. Edward swallowed reflexively, the salty warmth coating his tongue, filling him. The older man held him there, his cock throbbing as the last pulses of release spilled into the young man’s eager mouth.
Finally, Reginald pulled back, his cock sliding free with a wet pop. Edward gasped for air, his lips swollen and his face flushed. The Commodore stroked himself once more, letting a final bead of cum fall onto Edward’s tongue.
“Good boy,” he said, his voice softening but no less commanding. He tucked himself away, adjusting his trousers with the same precision he brought to everything. Edward remained on his knees, chest heaving, the taste of Reginald still heavy on his tongue.
“You’ve proven yourself,” the older man said, taking one last draw from his cigar before stubbing it out in a nearby tray. “Now get up. We’ve only just begun.”
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Chunky to chubby
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🔥🥵😘
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Good Morning!!!
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