Page 29 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 15

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 arms
out sideways from his muscular hips, crooked forward
at the elbow, his hands fists, mighty above my face, and
with a roar that started in his balls, shot up his spine,
hit his head, shot again back down his spine to his balls,
he exploded long aerial flumes of white sperm across my
face, with me cuming in my own hand, my mouth open,
swallowing, eating his load, eating the dozen other loads
of men whose cocks he triggered by his big shoot.
Upstairs in the Main Salon, Molly Brown was drag-
ging a reluc tant table or two of reticent rich into a chorus
of the popular “Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis.” Edward was
by her side. His evening had been fun, if not tame, and
he had spent an hour with Madame Ouspenskaya whose
unsettling reading of his Tarot he was trying to forget.
“I saw you,” he said, in our stateroom. “You were
disgusting.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
He grinned. “Let me lick all that cum from your face
and your hair.” He pulled out his hardening cock.
“And we still have three glorious nights to go before
Titanic docks in New York.”

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