Page 26 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

12 Jack Fritscher

of the shaft down, popping the huge mushroom head of his
enormous cock free of the envelope of his foreskin.
“Suck me.” He said it the way I’m sure he said it to
Amsterdam whores. I could tell that his cock was the center
of his blond, beard ed, well-built being. He had the ruggedly
handsome look of a man who always got what he wanted
sexually.
With no trouble at all.
Especially from me. I took the bulbous head of his dick
into my mouth. Its hard volume plugged my face. I worked
his uncut head in and out. His fully stiff cock stood the
length of my two hands ful between my crossed eyes. He
was a choker. He knew it. He liked it. My tongue fucked his
piss-slit. He moaned. I bit lightly on his head. He moaned
louder. I chewed the head of his cock. He slapped the side of
my head with his cal loused hand.
“Suck me,” he commanded. “Go down on me.” A litany
of profanity spilled out. “Swallow my big hard blond cock
all the way down your bloody throat till you feel the bloody
hairs in my crotch scratch your bloody nose.”
I obeyed. I took him inch by inch, swallowing, savoring
slowly the masculine taste and soft skin of his strong cock.
“I said, suck it!” He liked fast, robust sucks. He put his
giant hands on the back of my head, curled his tough fingers
into my hair, and jammed me into a nose-dive down to the
base of his steel rod. In and out, working his dick like the
pistons ramming Titanic engines, battering my throat, tears
watering from my eyes, spit and cockjuice drooling from my
mouth, my nose foaming, my voice choked to groaning that
grew louder the harder he fucked my face. His demands, com-
mands, in abandon, turned to snarls and grunts. He plugged
the O-ring at the back of my mouth, the final ring that leads