Page 53 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 39

taking my left cheek away from him, forcing him to my
right cheek, their rods crossed like duellists’ swords across
my flat tongue, Brice fighting back, both cocks, compet-
ing, head next to head, stuffing my left cheek, ram ming
together, foaming my salivat ing mouth with their drip-
ping cock slits, the licorice-sweet ab sinthe running deep
fire down my throat, hungry for the depth-plunge, eager
for the cheek joust, lusting for their combined 18 inches
working my face, half ex pecting their cockheads to ram
through the smooth plate of both my cheeks, crisscrossed
cocks, smooth cheeks, gaping mouth, startled eyes.
That image of penis-rampant clicked in the back of my
head as the perfect family crest my straightlaced Boston
Brahmin father deserved! The face of his wide-eyed, wide-
mouthed son, with 18 inches of cock jutting triumphant
from his cheeks, mounted on the mansion trophy wall like
some strange-horned mythical beast hunted and killed
by ancient ancestors. What a jape on my father who had
never in his life even spoken the word penis!
A thought is but an instant in sex. Perhaps fantasy
triggered by hardon reality is all of sex. The truth is the
double entry of Brice and Max was the calm before the
storm. Their cocks, colliding with my cheeks, forged hot
in their foreplay. Together, they pulled out, popping my
lips, my jaw hanging open, my tongue drool ing ropes
of absinthe spit to the twin heads of their dicks. Brice
grabbed my hair to hold my head steady. Max delicately
drove two fingers up my nostrils, tilting my head into
place. My mouth, gasping for breath, hung like an open
and willing target already on fire, burning like a boiler
stoked by their sex-shovels. The three of us hung poised
and ready. Brice spit down on his sandpaper dickhead

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