Date: Sat, 13 Jan 2018 12:34:40 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Queen Mary Bell-boys by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Note: Through a combination of old age - I am, after all, 96 this year - and a failure to read over my work before handing it in (a fault pointed out to me at school but never wholly eradicated) I have mis-named Ryan, about whom a great deal more will be heard later, and in Chapters 8 and 9 called him Gary. This is particularly foolish as Gary (as a man's name) wasn't used in 1916 when Ryan/Gary was born. The great Francis Cooper was persuaded by a casting director to change his first name to her hometown - Gary, Indiana - a good ten years after then. And so a fashion was born. My apologies. Now on with the action. =============================================================================== Chapter 10 "Well, when we first met you you seemed very tight-laced and holy. I didn't think you'd be much fun. When we lined up for the photo and Alan grabbed your arse you were pretty cross. The rest of us thought it was funny - arses get grabbed all the time." Charlie was embarrassed. "Is an arse a bottom?" he asked. "Oh Charlie," I said, "you're a treat! I can see I have a lot to teach you. Yes, arse is another word for bottom. Don't you have any boys your age at home that use rude words?" Charlie's embarrassment deepened. I had to put a stop to this. "Look," I said, "you'll fit in much better if you talk like the rest of us. Maybe life in your cabin will be happier if you do. After all, you swear now. I can teach you how to be a normal bell boy if you like. I like you, Charlie, and I think you could be great fun. Look at you now," I went on, "here, sinning with me in a passengers' swimming pool at damn nearly midnight. Are you enjoying sinning with me, Charlie?" I said teasingly. He laughed. "Yes, Patrick, I am. You're the only one who's made friends with me." I moved towards him and gave him a hug. "Good." To my delight he hugged me back, and we stayed hugging for several seconds. I couldn't help it, but the proximity of boy flesh against my flesh had the usual result and my cock pressed against Charlie's leg. He broke away, embarrassed again. "What's the matter?" I asked, knowing full well. I expected to be rebuked for pressing my stiffy into his leg. "I'm so sorry," he said, "my thing gets hard and ... oh, I hate it." This was not what I expected. I said, "my thing - it's a cock, by the way, well, it's really a penis, but cock'll do between friends - is hard too. Didn't you feel it against your leg?" He had indeed felt it, but he had been told so often that anything of that kind was irredeemably sinful that the poor boy was practically in tears. "Come on," I said, "let's get out and get dried. We can talk in the changing room." When we got there our cocks had resumed their normal cold water shrivelled state. I hugged him again. "Charlie, what those people have told you is all nonsense. Cocks get hard all the time - it's normal for boys our age. I bet every other bell boy has a hard cock dozens of times a day. I know I do, and so do the others in my cabin." "How do you know?" he asked. Aha! I thought. That was the question that would give me the opening I wanted. I was genuinely fond of Charlie, mainly because I felt sorry for the treatment he had been subjected to in his Calvinistic upbringing. We Catholics sinned and went to Confession, and then cheerfully sinned again. Any guilt we might have was soon forgotten in the merry whirl of more sinning. "I know because we spend most of the time after duty finishes without our clothes on. Our cocks get hard and everything just follows." He gasped. "You don't mean you play with it?" "Indeed we do, Charlie, and the word is wank. There's a posh word, but wank will do. Don't you?" "I did once," he said, "but I was caught and whipped. I never dared do it again." "How old were you? Who caught you?" "It was about a year ago. I don't know why I started to ... wank, but it was very nice. I'd been doing it for two minutes when my teacher saw me and he told my father. He whipped me." "And didn't anything exciting happen?" "No, should it?" Now or never, Patrick. "Look, Charlie, I think that you must be the unluckiest boy in the ship All boys wank, and they do it because it gives them the best feeling inside. It's not like anything else in the world. And every time you do it you get the best feeling all over again. I'm so sorry that those people have stolen all that fun from you." Leave it there, Patrick, let him think about it ... Charlie thought ... Charlie turned to me. "Patrick," he whispered, "will you show me. Promise you won't tell?" Poor Charlie, he had regressed to being about six. I felt really sorry for him, but I knew that in a few minutes his life would have changed for ever. What had started out in my mind as a challenge to get him naked before we got back to England had turned into a mercy mission to rescue him from mediaeval mind control. And I would have some fun too, but that was secondary. Well, it would be secondary this time. "Yes, Charlie, I'll show you with pleasure. Just relax and do what I tell you. In five minutes you'll be a new man, I promise." He grinned. "That would be nice." I spread my dressing gown on the floor and made him lie on it face up. He covered his cock with his hands, so I gently moved them and stretched them out. "I can't show you if you cover your cock, can I?" "No, I suppose not. It's embarrassing though, you seeing it." "Don't worry. Anyway it's a nice cock." He reddened again, but that which I had called nice responded to being praised. "Look," I said, "you may be embarrassed but your cock isn't. Now don't move your arms. I'm going to wank you and you're going to have a fantastic feeling. Just relax and enjoy what I'm doing." It was a nice cock - uncut and, now hard, about 6 inches. His balls were nice and full - hardly surprising given suck a lack of wanking - and he had a thatch of pubes. I separated his legs and knelt between them. Much as I wanted his cock in my mouth I knew that this would best be kept for another occasion if one presented itself. It would be up to me to make sure it did. I held his hot cock in my hand, bringing it to full erection. Charlie moaned. I was amused to see that his embarrassment seemed to have been forgotten. I started to wank him, pulling his foreskin back each time, but not uncovering his throbbing cock head. Again, that was for another day. Charlie moaned some more. I kept up a constant speed. Charlie moaned a great deal more. "Nice?" I said. "Oooh! Yesss!" I got a bit faster and Charlie started to move his hips. For a Calvinist sewn into his moral underwear with black twine Charlie instinctively knew how to fuck as his orgasm approached. "Here it is," I said as he was nearly there. I wanked him as fast as I could and he raised his hips about a foot off the ground as his cock erupted. His cry of joy was loud enough to be heard throughout the ship, or so it seemed. Tears were running down his face as the cum poured out of his cock all over his chest and belly. "Oh, Patrick, oh, oh, oh," "Good, eh?" "Oh, yes. And it's like that every time?" he panted. "Yup, every time." "And it's called wanking? What was the stuff that flew out of my ... cock?" I told him what it was for and that it was made by his balls. "Will they make more?" "Oh yes, Charlie, they'll make more all right. At our age they'll have made more in a few minutes. It's got lots of names. I call it spunk, or cum. What you did is called 'coming'. And every time your cock gets hard it's telling you that that's what it wants to do. And I'll tell you a secret. That's what we do every night in our cabin. And they do it every night in cabin 2 as well." "How do you know?" "It's what we talk about. It's what most boys our age talk about. You're the unusual one, Charlie, or you were until five minutes ago." He thought about this. "Yesterday Chris said something about being away fucking. Is that what we did?" "No, fucking is when a man puts his cock in a woman. That's how babies are made. But it doesn't have to be just to make babies. Wanking is fun, and so is fucking." Leave it there, Patrick. He doesn't need to know about the kind of fucking we get up to. Not yet anyway. The cum was still lying in opalescent trails across his body. I would have loved to lick them up, but he wasn't ready for advanced stuff yet, I thought. I cleaned him up with my dressing gown - having his cum staining it was by no means undesirable - and when he was clean I gave his cock a nice squeeze. "We can do this again if you like," I said, "and you'll be doing it yourself all the time, I expect." We both grinned. "Yes," he said simply. "Thank you, thank you so much, Patrick." "Charlie, I enjoyed it almost as much as you did. I'm a wicked sinful boy who loves wanking other boys. Now come on, we need to get back to our beds." We put on our dressing gowns (mine pleasingly damp) and went quietly back down the stairs to our deck below the waterline. We whispered 'good night' to each other and went to our cabins. My two were both asleep. In two minutes so was I, but not before I'd wondered whether Charlie's Calvinist side was tormenting him with guilt, or his newly-discovered side was already hardening his cock in anticipation of more delightful sin. ***** There was a great deal to report to Sir at 0915. I decided to keep my activity with Charlie a secret between the two of us for the time being, but I described my hour with Rufus in detail. I could tell that all three of my listeners were stimulated by the story. I was good to see that the lack of sexual embarrassment which existed between us boys and Sir allowed Tim and Alan to adjust their swollen cocks in their tight uniforms. I knew I would have to adjust mine when I heard what they had got up to. "Now Tim," said Sir, "what about Slim?" "I enjoyed it. Slim made me piss all over him in the shower, then he did the same to me. Neither of us came. Then he got us out of the shower and laid me down on some cloth on the tile floor of the bathroom - there was only just room - and he got down and rimmed me. Then he fucked me, but before he came he pissed inside my arse. No-one's ever done that before, but I hope someone'll do it again - it was a fantastic feeling." Alan and I noted this for future use. Tim continued, "then when he'd finished pissing he started fucking me in earnest, and he came soon after. He pulled out and his piss went everywhere; the cloth was soaked. After a minute or two, when he'd got his breath back, he knelt over me and gave me a magic sucking. I cam in his mouth and he swallowed it all. Then I showered, and when I got out he told me to sit on his bed until he'd showered. Then we cuddled a bit and I got him hard again. He asked if I would suck him off, so I did, but it took 15 minutes before he came. Then I wanked onto his cock and he rubbed it into his belly. He wants both of us tomorrow," he ended. Sir was delighted, as was I. Slim's inventive piss games were interesting! Alan told us about his afternoon's fun. "Mine was called Master, would you believe, and as soon as I got inside he put a collar on me." "Tight?" asked Sir. "Oh no, it was comfortable, but it had a lead, like a dog, and he led me where he wanted me to go." "Was he unpleasant to you?" "No, Sir, he was very gentle. But he was definitely in control. I obeyed him, of course, so I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't." "I hope you never find out," said Sir, "man like that can turn nasty very quickly. What did he do with you?" "Nothing very exciting. I had to go on all fours, like a dog, and sniff his arse and his balls like a dog would. He patted me and stroked me and made me lie down so that he could, as he put it, 'tickle my tummy'. Well, if it was my tummy he was aiming for then he missed. My cock got all the tickling - at least until he started on my balls with the other hand." Tim and I had to adjust ourselves again. "Are you naked now? Is he?" asked Sir. "Oh yes, he was naked when he let me in and I had to strip immediately. As he was stroking me he got hard too, and I was getting quite close. I said I was near and he just said 'good dog, lie on your back and let it happen then'. So I got on my back and he went on wanking me. I came on my belly and he scooped it up in his hand and ate some of it. Then he wanked himself with the other half and in about a minute he came all over my face. I hadn't had that before, and I was surprised by the quantity. As soon as he'd finished he licked all his spunk from my face, and he swallowed all of it. 'Good dog' he said again, 'I'm going to fuck you soon. As he was only about 25 I didn't think it would take him long to get it up again, so I got on all fours again and did the doggy think of sniffing his arse. Then it occurred to me that dogs lick, so I rimmed him and gave his cock and balls a good licking too. When he was hard he said 'good dog' again, and fucked me from behind. It was a good thing I was full of vaseline, because he rammed it in hard without any preparation. It would have hurt like hell if I'd been unprepared." "How big was he?" asked Sir, who was making notes on all this. "& inches or so, but quite thick. A lot thicker than mine." Tim and I exchanged looks: if it was a lot thicker than Alan's then it was indeed thick. "Then what?" "When he came up my arse he collapsed onto me. He didn't make me cum again. Two minutes later he got up, took the collar off and told me to dress and go. As soon as I got back here I had a shower as I was very cummy on my arse, my belly and my face." "Good, Alan, well done. Did you enjoy it?" "I didn't mind being a dog, but it didn't get me horny, if that's what you mean. No-one's cum on my face before, but it was quite fun. I'd have preferred it if I'd been allowed to have his cock in my mouth after he'd done it though." Sir sat back and looked at his notes. "Thank you," he said at last, "all three of you have done well. I will see Slim this afternoon about a double session tomorrow. I'm interested that he had a cloth for pissing yesterday. We must get a supply of cloths - big towels, probably, so that you can have them if a client wants to play piss games. I will make sure I get some once we're in New York, and rubber sheets as well. Now I'm sure that Patrick has told you about his plans for a feast with Cabin 2 on the final night. It has my blessing, and I will let the chefs know that they are to provide something. I leave it to you, Patrick, to arrange for delivery. I'm sure you'll find a way of thanking the staff involved." I did not even try to stifle my grin. Things were going well. "Anything else? No? Well, off you go." This time I didn't need to stay behind to arrange things. On the way to the elevators I whispered to the other two that I'd tell them about my swim at our afternoon break. When we had lunch Cabin 4 ate at the same time, and Charlie would be there, so neither Tim nor Alan would know any of the details. I told them not to make any comment about it - "pretend you don't know". I went into the galley at 1030 and quickly sought out Ryan. "I've fixed it with Corrigan," I said, "and he'll fix it with your boss. Can I give you a list of what I'd like?" "You can try, Patrick. Why don't you come up here at 2055. I'll be finished then and you can give me your list ... and we can talk about other things." I grinned. "That sounds good to me, Ryan. I can't wait." Lunch was interesting. All six of us showed up at 1110 and we sat together at a round table: Tim, Chris, Alan, me, Charlie, Andrew. Cabin 1 said very little, as we were interested in the guys we didn't know as well. Chris and Andrew were less hostile to each other, and Charlie was much chattier than he had been earlier in the voyage. It looked as though Calvin's demons had not speared Charlie on their hellish toasting forks. As we got up to return to duty Charlie tugged my sleeve. I paused while the other four went out. This would be interesting, I thought. "I couldn't sleep last night," he said. "I was so thrilled about what happened I couldn't sleep. I'm going to do it tonight." "I'm glad," I said, "you should come to Cabin 1 tomorrow evening for a bit of fun." I left him wondering what might lie behind such an invitation: had I blabbed about our sinful behaviour? would I be alone? would we do it again? It would be good for him to have well over 24 hours to think about it. And if he was going to have a decent wank tonight then he would have more to think about while he was doing it. I chuckled at the thought of the virgin Charlie trying to conceal his wank from Andrew, who would be able to work out exactly what was going on, and from Chris, the professed heterosexual. None of us had a client today, so when we met in the cabin at 1430 we had half an hour with nothing to do but put our feet up. "Well," said Tim when we were comfortable, "did you get very far with Charlie?" I felt no obligation to heed my promise to Charlie not to tell anyone: the point of the exercise was to discover how far he would be willing to go with his newly-discovered cock. I told them exactly what happened (apart from Charlie's tears. Some things really are special). "Fuck me," breathed Alan with what I interpreted as great respect, "you are some kid, Patrick." "Will he come back for more?" asked my ever-horny and hopeful twin. "I'm sure of it. After lunch he said he wanted to do it again, so I told him to come here tomorrow night. We'll have to work out how we play it. We don't want to frighten him off." "From what you said about how quickly he let you wank him I don't think there's any danger of that," said Alan. "A boy I know at home found out about wanking when he was 14 or 15 and he's the biggest sex fiend I know." "Yes, he's probably cramming in all the wanks he didn't have from age 7," said Tim. We spent a happy quarter of an hour thinking of all the things we might get up to with Charlie before we had to smarten up and resume our duties. Later when we sat down to eat Alan and Tim were grinning. "Contacts?" I asked. Both nodded. Lucky buggers, I thought. My day had been free from even the tiniest hint from anyone that the inside of my trousers held anything desirable. "Tell you later," was all the detail I got. I comforted myself with the knowledge that Tim and I would, with luck, be swimming in piss by this time tomorrow. I also had an assignation with Ryan to look forward to. And Charlie, sitting demurely opposite me, had his first wank looming large. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 11 as we get even nearer to New York. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing a few months ago, and the boy I describe as "me" is really cute. I'm sure he had adventures ... Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================