Page 37 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 23

slow inch by slow inch, the blue veins stark, mean, the
volume tumescent, stick ing out big and hard, a cocklike
blowgun bulleting out thick white clots of spit rapid as a
Gatling gun, targeting Edward’s open mouth, a foaming
pool of the Stoker’s sweet cumlike juice.
Edward, not to be outdone, spit the load back on the
Stoker’s greasy chest, white-hot lather mixing into the
thick black hair forested across the big man’s high, wide,
and handsome pecs.
That did it.
The Stoker drove his 5-inch tongue, mushroom-head
and shaft, straight through Edward’s lips and deep into
the back of his mouth, tongue-fucking him hard as any
cock, hawking his spermy spit back into his throat, shoot-
ing the cum of his spit into Edward’s guts.
All this presentation of credentials, two stags squared
off, took all of six minutes. The rest took longer.
Edward rebelliously jerked his hair loose from the
Stoker’s grip. He popped open his trousers, dropped his
shorts, and displayed his 10-inch rockhard cock. Three
masturbating bystanders, two lords, and one lord who
was a lady trapped in a lord’s body, shot their loads on
the spot. Edward wrapped both his hands, big-boned
from rowing team, around his shaft, squeezing the angry
purple head of his dick to plum-size. He grinned his chal-
lenge, then spit his own spit splatdown on the leather
crotch of the Stoker’s tentpoled pants.
The Stoker growled.
There was ass on the line.
The crowd howled.
The Stoker slowly unbut toned his leathers. He teased
a gruff tease like some primal folkdance. Anticipation in

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