Page 55 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 41

back and took it away. Nose then mouth. Controlled
breathing. Perfect moves. What could have been barbaric
was ath letic, even dancelike. I wanted Max and Brice. On
their terms. They had won me over, conquered me. They
stuffed my mouth and throat with too much cock for me
to suck. My face was an open hole, a berth, home port,
safe harbor. We were in delicate waters. I surren dered
to their double-fuck.
Max slithered down my gul let, inching down, inch-
ing out, then down again, his fullness each time gaining
deeper purchase on my throat, impaling me with hard
cock, Brice, slow-pumping my cheeks, twin engines, work-
ing up full steam, easing me new into their accustomed
fuck, timing themselves, jab, slip, slide, dip, ram, building
the volume of cock, building the pace of fuck, slick they
were, slicking themselves into me, chugging up their pace,
throttling their alternat ing pistoning moves, their hard
cocks stiffening harder side by side, two dick-buddies,
fucking one face.
I’ve never yet met a man who, falling to his knees,
did not wish his best friends could see him at that mo-
ment, some gasping in shocked horror, some applauding
in envy. Going down is always the best revenge. On ev-
eryone. Even God.
Together they weighed more than a solid-built 300
pounds of force, irresistible, driving their tag-team cocks
into my mouth. Max was rooted basso profundo deep in
my throat strumming chords on my vocal cords. Brice
took the treble clef jamming my cheeks staccato. Would
that Edward had seen the operatic spectacle of our trio
swaying in gathered fuck rhythm, building toward horned
climax. Brice grunted more than Max and Brice’s grunts

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