#rex tillerson

[senatortedcruz]

Playing let’s remember some guys of Trump 1. God people who voted for him a second time have the lowest IQs on the planet

[deadpresidents]

Is your actual "serious" presidential historian view on President Trump that he is an "a**hole"? That's the best you can do?

Yes, that is my serious viewpoint. I had my serious hat on when I said it. Although I called him an "asshole", not an "a**hole" because I'm a grown-ass person and have experienced bad words before.

Is it the best I can do? No. But nobody can do much better than Trump's own first Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, who said that Trump is -- and this is a direct quote -- "a fucking moron".

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Sex Tillerson

Chapter One: Bold Admirer at the Ranch

Featuring Executive and former United States Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson

The evening sun dipped low over the sprawling grounds of Circle T Ranch in Westlake, Texas, casting a golden hue on the gathered crowd for the “Inspiring CEO Success Stories: An American Journey” event. Rex Tillerson, the former U.S. Secretary of State and longtime ExxonMobil executive, sat onstage in his charcoal gray plaid suit jacket, matching dark navy trousers, white dress shirt with French cuffs, and a blue-and-white striped tie. His highly distinctive black leather cowboy boots, peeked out from under his cuffs, adding that unmistakable Texan flair. At 5'10" with a stocky 168-pound build, his slicked-back silver hair, bushy white mustache, and piercing blue eyes commanded the room as he discussed his leadership journey with Council President & CEO Liz Brailsford.

The conversation flowed from boardroom triumphs at ExxonMobil to the corridors of Capitol Hill, offering glimpses into Tillerson's pragmatic, no-nonsense personality—rooted in his engineering roots and Boy Scout leadership days. As the event wrapped with audience Q&A, Tillerson fielded questions on energy's future and advice for the next administration. One voice stood out: a young man in the third row, his hand raised confidently.

"Mr. Tillerson, how did your engineering background shape your approach to diplomacy?" the admirer asked, his tone eager but steady.

Tillerson leaned into the microphone, his square-jawed face etched with lines from decades of high-stakes decisions.

"Son, engineering taught me to solve problems logically, without the fluff. You identify the issue, gather the facts, and execute. Same in politics—cut through the noise and get it done."

The young man nodded, his green eyes locking onto Tillerson's blues with an intensity that lingered. After the applause died down and the crowd mingled, the admirer approached Tillerson near the stage. His name was Alex Rivera, a 22-year-old recent college grad with a slim, athletic build—about 5'9", 150 pounds, with tousled dark hair, smooth olive skin, and a boyish charm accentuated by his fitted black button-up shirt, slim jeans, and sneakers. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, his full lips curving into a shy smile.

"Mr. Tillerson, that was inspiring," Alex said, extending a hand. "I'm Alex. I've followed your career for years. Honestly… I have a bit of a crush on you. Your directness, that Texas grit—it's magnetic."

Tillerson paused, his bushy eyebrows arching slightly as he shook Alex's hand firmly. The gold wedding ring on his finger glinted under the lights, alongside his Rolex watch and turquoise bracelet. He wasn't one for beating around the bush. "Well, now, that's bold of you to say, Alex. Appreciate the honesty. Most folks tiptoe around things like that. Care to grab a drink and chat more? I'm not one to turn down good company."

Impressed by the young man's straightforwardness—a trait Tillerson valued from his scouting days—they slipped away from the ranch to a quiet bar nearby. Over whiskey neat for Tillerson and a beer for Alex, the conversation deepened. Tillerson shared stories of his family life with Renda and their four kids, his voice steady and unflinching. Alex opened up about his admiration, his words laced with genuine awe. The chemistry sparked, and before long, Tillerson suggested they continue in private at a nearby hotel.

"No sense in dragging this out if we're both interested," he said pragmatically. "Let's see where it leads."

In the dimly lit hotel suite, clothes scattered across the floor—Tillerson's suit jacket draped over a chair, his trousers and shirt in a heap, those signature cowboy boots kicked off haphazardly alongside Alex's jeans and shirt. Tillerson lay back on the king-sized bed, his stocky frame relaxed, his 7-inch cut cock standing veiny and straight, with low-hanging balls swaying gently. Alex knelt between his proportionate legs, eyes wide with excitement.

"Go on, son," Tillerson encouraged in his direct Texas drawl, his voice gravelly from the evening's talks. "Show me what that boldness looks like up close. Take it slow at first—tease the tip, then work your way down."

Alex leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over Tillerson's cock before his full lips parted to kiss the head softly, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. He swirled his tongue around the head, tracing the ridge with deliberate slowness, making Tillerson's veiny shaft twitch in anticipation. Gradually, Alex opened wider, sucking the head into his mouth with a wet pop, his cheeks hollowing as he applied gentle suction, bobbing shallowly while his hand wrapped around the base, stroking the moderate girth in time with his mouth. Saliva began to drip down the length, coating the veins that pulsed under his touch.

Tillerson groaned low, his firm, butt clenching against the sheets as he threaded his fingers through Alex's tousled dark hair.

"That's it. Use your tongue more. Yeah, like that… deeper now, boy. Take as much as you can."

Alex obeyed, relaxing his throat to slide more of the straight, 7-inch length inside, gagging slightly as the head nudged the back of his throat, but pushing through until his nose nestled against Tillerson's trimmed silver pubic hair. He hummed around the cock, the vibrations sending jolts through Tillerson, while his free hand cupped and rolled those low-hanging balls, feeling their weight and the way they drew up tighter with each deep suck. Alex's own arousal strained, but he focused entirely on pleasuring the older man, alternating between long, sloppy licks from base to tip and deep-throating with rhythmic swallows that massaged the shaft.

After several minutes of this immersive oral worship—Alex's mouth stretched wide, saliva stringing from his lips to the glistening cock each time he pulled back for air, his green eyes watering from the effort—Tillerson pulled him up with a firm grip.

"Enough teasing. You got me all worked up. Grab that condom."

Tillerson rolled it on himself, the latex sheathing his straight, veiny length, a dab of lube applied for smoothness.

He positioned Alex in the Folded Missionary position first: Alex on his back, legs folded up toward his chest, knees hooked over Tillerson's broad shoulders, exposing his tight, puckered hole completely. Tillerson's piercing blue eyes locked on Alex's as he lined up, pressing the condom-sheathed head against the entrance, circling it teasingly before pushing forward.

"Breathe easy, now," Tillerson instructed matter-of-factly, his engineering precision guiding his entry.

The head breached the resistant ring with a slow, insistent pressure, stretching Alex open inch by inch, the veiny shaft following as Tillerson sank deeper until his sizable balls rested flush against Alex's ass cheeks. Alex gasped, feeling the moderate girth fill him utterly, every vein dragging along his sensitive inner walls in a burning, pleasurable friction.

"Damn, you're tight—like a vice grip," Tillerson grunted, his bushy mustache twitching as he held still for a moment, letting Alex adjust before starting to thrust.

He built steadily—slow, deep strokes at first, pulling out almost entirely so just the tip remained inside, then slamming back in with a wet smack, his stocky build powering each movement, his firm butt flexing with effort. Sweat beaded on his fair skin, his silver hair disheveled as the pace quickened, pounding rhythmically like a well-oiled machine. Alex moaned loudly, his slim frame folding under the assault, Tillerson's cock pistoning in and out, the latex crinkling slightly with each plunge, hitting his prostate repeatedly and sending sparks of ecstasy through him. Tillerson's hands gripped Alex's thighs hard, spreading him wider for deeper access, the immersive fucking making the bed frame rattle, Alex's hole clenching greedily around the invading length.

Shifting positions, Tillerson flipped Alex onto his stomach for the Open Groundhog: Alex flat on the bed, legs spread wide, ass slightly raised on a pillow for better angle. Tillerson mounted him from behind, straddling his thighs, his hands gripping Alex's slim hips like handles.

"Hold steady," he said like a scout leader giving orders, before thrusting back in with one smooth motion.

The new angle allowed even deeper penetration, Tillerson's veiny cock sliding in to the hilt, bottoming out with a grunt as his low-hanging balls swung forward to slap against Alex's perineum. He set a relentless rhythm, hips snapping forward with powerful, measured thrusts, the moderate girth stretching Alex's hole anew, the friction building heat as pre-cum and lube mixed into a slick mess. Each withdrawal pulled at the rim, making it flutter, before plunging back in, the immersive pounding filling the room with obscene sounds—skin slapping skin, wet squelches, and Alex's muffled cries into the pillow as Tillerson's cock rubbed insistently over his prostate, milking it with every stroke.

Finally, Tillerson's breaths grew ragged, his pragmatic control slipping.

"Here it comes, son."

He thrust hard one last time, burying himself deep as his cock pulsed violently, hot spurts of cum flooding the latex reservoir, wave after wave until he was spent. Pulling out slowly with a satisfied sigh, Tillerson admired the aftermath: Alex's hole wrecked and gaping slightly, red and puffy from the intense reaming, slick with lube and stretched open enough to reveal a hint of the inner pinkness.

"Well done," he said, smacking Alex's ass. "That was satisfying—left you good and used."

They lay there briefly, Tillerson's unflinching demeanor softening just a touch in the afterglow, before he dressed and headed out, ever the pragmatic executive.

This narrative is entirely fictional and it does not reflect any known events or factual scenarios involving Rex Tillerson or any persons.

[dadsinsuits]

Rex Tillerson

[older-is-better]

Rex Tillerson & Long Black Socks.

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Rex Tillerson Executive and former United States Secretary of State

[mydaddywiki]

Rex Tillerson

Physique: Average Build Height: 5’ 10" (1.80 m)

Rex Wayne Tillerson (born March 23, 1952) is an American energy executive who served as the 69th United States secretary of state from 2017 to 2018 in the administration of Donald Trump. From 2006 to 2016, he was chairman and chief executive officer (CEO) of ExxonMobil.

Say what you want about Donald Trump, he sure knows how to pick good looking men. A good ol’ boy from Texas, T-Rex seems like a guy who as long as he gets his, he doesn't care who he bust his nut with. Well, he would probably disagree, but if a story comes out that he had hot sex with twinks in the past. I'd not be surprised. Plus, he's rich bitch! I'm not saying that's a reason to date him. Just a nice side benefit.

Tillerson has been married twice with twin sons from his previous marriage and one son with his current wife. A Boy Scout who worked his way up to the CEO of ExxonMobil and later became president of the Boy Scouts of America. Mr. Tillerson was all set for retirement when President Trump tapped him up to be the most fuckable member of his administration Well… maybe him and Sonny Perdue.

[pourunhomme]

Rex Tillerson