Page 28 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

14 Jack Fritscher

fucked my face. His demands, commands, in abandon,
turned to snarls and grunts. He plugged the O-ring at
the back of my mouth, the final ring that leads 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 ramming. My cock pitched to the breach of cum-
ing. 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

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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