Page 54 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

40 Jack Fritscher

length of his huge dick spanned across my face, forehead to
chin, its head red, slick, and dripping. Blue veins, thick as
snakes, coiled tight around the log of his thick shaft. Brice
held steady, docked in my right cheek. Max’s face grinned
way above his cock which loomed larger, closer than his
head. He held my nose in place. Quiet set tled on the three
of us frozen in place like competing athletes waiting for the
starter’s gun. Sure as shooting, Max, driving his hard ramrod,
pumping it in slow tattoo against my face, teased open my
lips locked down on Brice’s cock, slipping down alongside
the length of carpenter cock, never hesitat ing, his cockhead,
driven by his shaft, sliding across my tongue, snaking inch
by inch to the back of my throat, docking with the O-ring,
touching, teasing the mem brane, readying to screw my head
on to my shoulders.
He pulled his fingers slowly from my nostrils as he slowly
drove his cock down my throat. He gave my breath back and
took it away. Nose then mouth. Controlled breathing. Perfect
moves. What could have been barbaric was ath letic, even
dancelike. I wanted Max and Brice. On their terms. They
had won me over, conquered me. They stuffed my mouth
and throat with too much cock for me to suck. My face was
an open hole, a berth, home port, safe harbor. We were in
delicate waters. I surren dered to their double-fuck.
Max slithered down my gul let, inching down, inching
out, then down again, his fullness each time gaining deeper
purchase on my throat, impaling me with hard cock, Brice,
slow-pumping my cheeks, twin engines, working up full
steam, easing me new into their accustomed fuck, timing
themselves, jab, slip, slide, dip, ram, building the volume
of cock, building the pace of fuck, slick they were, slicking
themselves into me, chugging up their pace, throttling their