Page 56 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

42 Jack Fritscher

descending, pumping rod.
Max himself began a low groan in his big nuts. My throat
opened and, rebellious fallen an gel that I am, I swallowed
him in deeper, taking half the head of Brice’s dick along. Max
twisted, stared hard down at my face, and, to reward me or
discipline me, I have never known, drove his cock, shaft-fast
past Brice’s cock, and buried himself deep down, Brice hold-
ing my head by my hair. Max, profane as a parrot, cursed
like a sailor, ramming his pulsing dick in place, shooting his
depth-charge of white fluming sperm, exploding hot snot in
my guts, down my throat, up out my nose, huge tidal waves
of their mixed cum flooding from my lips, their two dicks,
twisting hard, fighting for space, me choking, them pant ing,
their big stiff pricks, held tight in place, forcing me to swal-
low, their fingers re-feeding me the cum escaping my lips,
their draining dicks slowly, ever so slowly softening down to
two fat snakes nesting in my mouth, lick ing them, sucking
up their cum, them suctioning their twin 9-inchers from my
face. When they saw I had cum without touching myself, they
laughed, pulled me to my feet, and dropped me gently to the
carpet. Titanic hummed along the full length of my back side
as we sped together, fuck bud dies, across the North Atlantic.
Edward thought my “Sunday picnic” was “ever so jolly.”
He said, “I rendezvous again with the Stoker. Tonight at 10.
He wants to lock me in a cell in the brig, break in, and take
me by force.”
“Be careful,” I said. “Remem ber Madame Ouspenskaya’s
Tarot reading.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edward said. “She’s no mystic.
She’s no more than a nanny babysitting that Egyptian
mummy Lord Ashcroft is sending to the New York Museum.”
“That cursed Egyptian mum my,” I said.