Page 27 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

Titanic 13

down the throat, with his mushroom head. I whipped my
own cock to a frenzy as he drove me, kneeling, and bent me
over backwards, till he had lowered me flat to the catwalk
and straddled me. Never once did his cock leave my face,
even as he fell to his knees and, pumping push ups, drilled
me deep, pulling almost out past my sucking, beg ging lips.
What a common uncommon sight we must have made!
Feet and legs gathered in a circle three deep around us. Dark
shadows of men stroking their cocks watched the wild show
of his wild fuck of my face. His rams became stronger, faster,
more ur gent. The crotch flap of his whites whipped my chest,
exciting my nipples. My cock was mine. He cared nothing
about it juicing in my fist. I reached both my palms up to cup
his perfect butt through his white sailor cloth, but he bucked
my hands off, muttering, “My ass is mine! Eat my cock, you
fucking cocksucker!”
Men, staying well out of the muscular blond sailor’s way,
fell to their knees in a circle around my head lying on the
catwalk floor. Cocks of every size and shape shot their loads
on my face. I was drowning in sperm. The more he fucked,
the more shooting cocks replaced shooting cocks. My hair
matted with anonymous cum. My throat ached with his ram-
ming. My cock pitched to the breach of cuming. He lunged.
He roared up his full height on his knees: his big wet dick,
swung free from my mouth, red with heat, flailing in the air,
searching like a lost ship for the port of my mouth. He swore.
He cursed. He blasphemed. He took his raging dick in both
his meathooks and plunged it one last time so far down my
throat I feared his load might shoot out my ass. Again, he
with drew, this time a slow suctioning pump, sump-pumping
himself up to his final blast, pulling his pole, inch by inch,
from my mouth and kneeling across my chest, raising his