Page 52 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

38 Jack Fritscher

Their unspoken-lovers’ game was feeling their two
dicks rub bing together, slip-sliding in and out, each
revolving around the other, the way two athletic men
clasp sweaty gladiatorial hands, gripping fists, intensely
face to face, in the kind of pub arm-wres tling so popular
throughout Brit ain, so scorned at Cambridge, so practiced
at Oxford—arm wres tling introduced by the Romans cen-
turies before. Never had I wanted to be a stranger in the
world. Edward loved my American sense of exploration,
and Brice and Max were new territory I took to with no
map but my hard cock.
The two seamen got a high-speed, top-knot run for
their mon ey. I was every inch as much a cocksucker as
they were face-fuckers. Edward had said he loved me
because I was never passive, always active, even with his
10-inch oar rowing my deep ass. Brice and Max got the
same treatment. I clicked my jaw down another notch and
suctioned both their cocks into my mouth, holding them
both hardon in my stuffed cheeks. They fucked together.
Their side-by-side dicks alternately chugged my cheeks.
Two man-size cocks, ship mates, buddies, silent lovers
never speaking their own names, dick-to-dick, shaft-
sliding slick, neck and neck, their matched 9-inch naval
“short arms,” fisted at the top with almost twin heads,
wrestling cock-to-cock for advantage in the fighting arena
of my mouth. What a bout! What a scrap!
My mouth felt like a writh ing snake pit inside a
boxer’s punching bag.
In tandem, they slow-jabbed my face, Brice pummel-
ing my cheeks, Max driving deeper, outdistancing Brice,
his cockhead jamming the back of my mouth, stretching
open the O-ring to my throat, pulling back behind Brice,

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