Page 35 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 21

He pointed at the Stoker’s crotch. “I eat that for another
hundred pounds.”
“Crazy rich Britisher boy,” the Stoker said. “You will
eat my whole focking body before you eat my big focking
cock.”
He raised his arm, exposing his wet armpit. I nearly
swooned from the rich sweet smell of his body. Edward
took the last step in. The Stoker took him with one hand
on the back of his head and pushed his face into the
sweaty, muscled tangle of long black hair. Edward, Molly’s
“Ever-ready Eddy Weddy,” landed willingly, tongue-first
in the Stoker’s armpit. He made suck ing, slurping sounds
that made my cock hard.
I wasn’t the first man, coal-heaver or gentleman, all
equal voyeurs, who pulled my cock from my trousers to
stroke along with their rugged foreplay. Edward and the
Stoker stopped all the other action in the vicinity dead in
its tracks, just like the couple on a dance floor who are so
good all the other dancers stop in a sophis ticated circle
to watch and ap plaud. I knew Edward loved theatre, but
I’d never known him to give a performance.
I knew we’d both remember this little show till the
day we died.
The Stoker, with one strong hand, moved Edward
from one arm pit to the other, dragging his wet and will-
ing tongue through the thick hair on his chest, hair mat-
ted like seaweed around the aure ole islands of his big
leather-tough nipples. His muscular arm bulged. Huge
veins, heated with hard work and stoked with passion,
coiled like snakes through the black hair furzing his bi-
ceps and hamhock forearm. No doubt his cock was even
more thick-veined.

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