Date: Sun, 18 Nov 2018 09:00:51 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 103 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 =============================================================================== Chapter 103 Tim stood stock still, his feet apart and his hands outstretched. I stood facing him a foot or so apart, in the same pose. We reached towards each other and intertwined our fingers. Our lips met for the briefest of kisses. I could hear a sound from the audience: some of them had noticed that they were about to see something special. I leant back, and we stood still with out fingers laced. Then we bent towards each other, only this time instead of our lips merely touching we inclined our heads, allowing our mouths to join in an erotic kiss. Our tongues engaged and the audience could see that we were active in each other's mouth as out throat muscles moved. Two teenagers, stark naked, erect penises only inches apart, their mouths hungrily exploring each other. I withdrew my lips and knelt at Tim's feet. I took his cock, his beautiful cock, my twin cock with so much history and so much promise, into my mouth. Tim quivered and lowered his hands to caress either side of my head. I licked his cock for a minute or two; there was no hurry. I stood up, resuming the position I'd had earlier. Now Tim knelt and did to my cock what I had done to his. After he had sucked me for two minutes I lifted him to his feet and embraced him. For the first time our cocks touched. Electricity flowed. The performance for an audience had faded: this was now going to be my act of erotic delight for Tim, and his for me: we hadn't had a session like this for ages. Fuck the audience. I took his hand and led him to the sling. With a lithe leap he was in it. At first he sat in it, like a boy in a swing, grinning teasingly. Then he gradually scooted forward so that he was in the right position. I lifted his right ankle and fastened it in the stirrup, then I did the same to his left ankle. His arse was now exposed. Tim put his wrists into the cuffs and smiled at me. Neither of us had said a word, or made any other sound, since we'd started. I took one of his arse cheeks in each hand and gently parted them to reveal his arsehole. For an arsehole which had been penetrated as often as I knew his had been, Tim's was a picture of clean virginal innocence. There was no sign of bruising, or of any redness. His pucker was tiny, neat, and light brown. His crack was perfect, with no blemish of any kind - I imagined mine was probably the same (the arrogance of youth coupled with its astonishing powers of recovery). I bent before this scene of earthly delight and began to worship it. My tongue licked from the bottom of his crack to the base of his cock - a cock which twitched in grateful acknowledgement of the erotic potential about to be stimulated. I repeated this several times, each time spending more time on his rosebud before moving on. Throughout this my hands were on his thighs, allowing my weight to press my tongue onto his arse. Tim sighed. That was the sign that penetration was what he needed. I picked up the lube I'd put on the floor and applied it to my right hand. Very slowly I drew my index finger along the path my tongue had travelled. Then I inserted my index finger all the way in. I could feel his arse muscle relaxing and almost welcoming me in. This was an arse only too well accustomed to penetration. Tim squirmed. The audience stirred: this was special. In other circumstances I'd have had three, if not four, fingers inside right then, but these circumstances were not normal. My second finger entered slowly, and it took almost two minutes before it was clear that it could go in no further. More squirming: Tim could act all right. My third finger went in. I used my index and fourth fingers to stretch his hole sideways as far as I could, using my middle finger to rub his prostate. You've heard this described often enough before, and it took him right over the edge without any warning. His cry of "Oh fuck!" was accompanied by a large spurt of spunk shooting from his cock onto his belly. Appreciation from the audience was audible. Tim's arse had tightened while he came, but within half a minute I detected a relaxation. I bent over him to whisper "fist?" "Go on," he whispered back. Time for the wedge. I bent down again, allowing those in the right position to perv on my arse, and squirted a lot of lube onto Tim's arse. The wedge went in nicely as far as my knuckles, occasioning a rather unexpected 'fuck me, he's going to fist him', followed by 'sssh!' from elsewhere. I was, and I did, with little difficulty. His arse lips were accommodating, and as soon as my knuckles were in the rest of my hand slipped in easily. I say 'slipped': 'was engulfed' would have been more like it. There were muscles up there which grabbed my fingers and tugged them deeper, deeper. There's a bend in the piping inside an arse several inches in, and by the time my fist reached Tim's bend my elbow was only about three inches outside. Tim was bathed in sweat. His face was beaming. I moved my arm in and out and Tim, to the limited extent he could, arched his back as it went in each time. "Next time," he whispered. We hadn't rehearsed any of this, so I wasn't sure what was in the offing, although there were really only two possibilities, and he'd cum not that long ago. In I went and as I pressed Tim allowed his bladder to respond to the pressure my fist was putting it under. A golden arc of piss shot out of his cock and sprayed onto his body. The stream of piss just went on giving, drenching Tim from his hair (some of it flew over his head at first), his face, his chest, his belly and, as the flow finally ceased, a few dribbles onto where his pubes used to be. Applause was heard. We'd hardly started. Fist out, cock in. Cock all the way in, hard. Hard fucking is what Tim wants, and hard fucking is what I'm giving him. No longer the slow caressing foreplay, now it's a dash to the tape ... or is it? I stop, my cock as far up him as I can get it. I lean forward over him. He leans forward as far as his restraints allow. We can just about reach to kiss ... our tongues reach out to lick the other's tongue (I'm still up him to the max). I whisper again. "I really want to cum inside you, but they'll want to see it. Maybe next time?" Tim smiled. "You bet, Patrick. Go for it." My cock is deep in my twin; it's warmly enfolded by his hot wet inside. It's time to fuck him properly. A slow withdrawal ... a slow deep penetration ... (a purr from Tim) ... faster this time ... faster, faster, nearly there, a couple more then ... whip it out to let my cock, in full view, pour my fountain onto Tim's body, covering it with hot sinful spunk ... and again ... and again ... a fountain of 16-year-old lust defiling the flower of innocence. How could a scene be more vile? By the 16-year-old emptying his bladder onto the sacrificial victim to wash away the evidence of sin. And what could follow? The second eruption of spunk from the victim's cock, brought on by the victim's vigorous wanking while his body was being soaked by the invader's piss. I relaxed. Tim relaxed, his cum having exhausted him. My piss glistened on his body; his cum left a pearly train from his cock to his chest. I undid his restraints and helped him out of the sling. We stood, face to face as we had at the beginning. His spunk was slowly running down his belly. I knelt, as I had done at the start, and slowly, carefully, licked it all up. I stood and kissed him. We shared his spunk. It was nice. So was the applause. Boys and men paired off - sometimes more than one pair being involved. Tim and I were whacked, so we contended ourselves with observing the fun. I was pleased to see that all of Sir's gang without exception were pissed on, some in the sling, others nearby. Javid and Prince were, as they were with potential clients in the elevators, attracting a lot of attention because they looked exotic. Will in particular spent a quiet (or if not quiet, then reasonably restrained) twenty minutes with each of them. The next say Sam passed on the message that Will was delighted that the Empire was so well represented among the new bell boys. I told Sam to return the message that the Bell Captains had been delighted that the officer had been so diligent in welcoming those coming from afar. "I can't say that!" he said in horror. "I can't see why not. You don't have to shout it out. If you tell him you have a message from me I'm sure he'll be all ears." By 0200 people were becoming tired. All the men had come up to me during the preceding hour saying that the occasion must be repeated. I hadn't spent much time with any of them, but parties are often like that. I agreed, by the way, but without much hope that the opportunity of a night without passengers would recur. Maybe we could get two or three of them down for the night occasionally now that we had an empty cabin. At 0215 Ryan shouted out that if we all pulled our fingers out - "or our cocks," cried Andrew, still deep inside George in the sling - the place could be all presentable in no time. Andrew was graciously allowed to proceed to his climax, helped along by 18 males ringing the sling, all clapping rhythmically. Out he came to be swiftly cleaned by Alan - it was only fair, after all - before all 20 of us spent ten minutes clearing up. Ryan, Jack and Robin carried all the empties and detritus away. Larry and the As hosed down the wet area and dismantled the sling. By 0240 you wouldn't have known we'd been there. By midday even the lingering odour of about 70 or 80 ejaculations would have finally disappeared. Will and Phil made a point of thanking Tim and me. "I don't think the two of you realise how much you mean to the rest of us, and to James," said Will, "and that fertility rite was something we all enjoyed almost as much as you did." "Thank you, kind sir," I said, bobbing what I hoped would be a fetching curtsey. As I was still stark naked the effect was probably minimal. There was one final ritual to be observed. "All bell boys, old and new, will now return to their cabins without clothing." It was the beer talking, but since in 11 pairs of ears it was the beer listening as well the parade took place. We all solemnly walked through the ship carrying our clothes. In less than six hours the inspectors would be back on board, but we knew that the grand staircases and the Grand Lobby would always keep the memory of 12 naked teenagers proudly going home after a night's fucking. ***** 1938 turned into 1939. Insulated as we were from the goings-on in the world outside we bell boys just went on about our business. Clients approached us, assignations were made, money (and, temporarily Passports) changed hands, bodily fluids were exchanged, all much as usual. I did organise instruction from Vincent, ably assisted by Jack, into the technique of deep-throating. It wasn't wholly successful. After several attempts during which copious vomiting occurred only Nigel and George mastered the art. The rest of us just had to accept that this was always going to be beyond us. Still, at least we had three bell boys who could provide this useful service. When I told Sir about this widening of the delights that were available to the right sort of passenger he advised me that such extra skills should not be provided without cost. "$40 sound about right to you, Patrick?" ***** It was just over a year after the FBI had interviewed Prince that Sir called the two of us in one day. "I've just had a cable from the FBI in New York. The case will come up in six days, two days after we land. They want Prince to leave the ship to give evidence. They don't say how long that will take. I will cable back telling them that we three will be on the dockside at 1100 on the morning we land. I want you both to come, and bring enough clothes and so forth to last two weeks. I don't see us staying longer than that, and there's no way back until then. I want you both in clean uniforms, so get the laundry to do them tomorrow. Wear casual clothes if you need to, and obviously stay out of the sight of passengers. You may tell the others what's happening. Any questions?" "No, Sir." The rest of that voyage passed in a whirl. Prince and I kept to our quarters apart from visits to the canteen. The two of us went over what might happen in court, but as neither of us had any idea of any court, never mind an American one, we were pretty useless at finding a conclusion. In the end we went to Sir on the afternoon before we docked. Sir had no idea either, but he said he was sure that the FBI, or whoever was bringing the case, would want to talk to witnesses to find out the line of questioning that would be useful. I didn't really understand this at the time, nor did Prince, but Sir said that the important thing was to tell the truth. "If they ask you a question and you don't know, or don't remember, then you must say so. Do not make anything up - that's very important. 'I don't know' is very hard for an opponent to argue with. If you tell a lie you're bound to be found out." Since I wasn't going to have any part in all this other than supporting Prince I'd had time to work out the most awkward question. "What happens if they ask why Prince left Queen Mary with Edward in the first place?" "Where's the problem?" said Sir, "you must tell him the truth. Not all of the truth of course, but enough both to satisfy the questioner and to make him less likely to probe further. You must say simply that Edward seduced you, both sexually and with the promise of a better life if you ran away with him. Naturally, being an inexperienced boy easily swayed by such a promise, you fell in with this. Edward made a sexual approach to you while you were carrying out your duties as an elevator boy and offered you a large sum of money for an immoral purpose. Being a foolish boy you went along with his wicked plan. Naturally you say nothing whatever beyond that. I hope that's clear." "Yes, Sir, I'm not stupid." Sir smiled. "I know you're not, Prince. Just stick like glue to that story. He offered you money and dazzled you with a glittering promise of life in America. No lawyer will want to press you further, especially in view of the testimony you will have to give about being raped. Make that as sordid and brutal as you can." We had a party that night. All of us, oldies and bell boys alike, knew that we'd be missing for a couple of crossings. We needed to celebrate being together, especially Charlie and me, and Graham and Prince. At 1045 Prince and I in our newly-pressed uniforms presented ourselves with small suitcases (lent by a couple of our fellow sling-users) at Sir's. "Let's go then," he said, "leave all the talking to me unless you're asked a direct question." He looked after us brilliantly, warding off the Press, whom we had not expected, with technical requirements (wholly fictional) about UK subjects being barred by British law from speaking to the Press before a case. After the Press had given up the FBI were there - the same two men, luckily, and the three of us were driven off. They took us to Philadelphia, about three hours away, where the trial was to start in two days. We went to a small hotel where two rooms had been booked. Naturally Prince and I shared. We weren't going to miss an opportunity like that. The cops told us to stay in the hotel and to eat all our meals there. They would be responsible for the charges after the trial. "Settle in, gentlemen, you'll be here for several days. A car will collect you at 9 in the morning tomorrow and take you to see the lawyers. After that you're in their hands, not ours." Sir thanked them, as did Prince. I stayed in the background. The three of us had a pleasant meal together. Sir was in fine form, quizzing Prince to make sure his story stood up. "All you have to do is tell the truth apart from one important detail." Prince said, for the hundredth time, that he wasn't a fool. "I was dazzled by the promise Edward made. I was a foolish boy. They beat me. I escaped. If they want details I provide them." "Make the beatings and the rape as detailed as you can. The blacker you paint the men who ill-treated you the less anyone will be able to focus on why you left the safety of Queen Mary." We had been through all this many times. Prince would find out soon whether the preparation had been thorough enough. At last the meal was finished. Sir drew back his chair. "I think it highly unlikely that the judge will allow anyone to examine you physically, Prince, but in case I'm wrong I think it would be a good thing if your arse didn't show any bruising. Go easy, the pair of you. Breakfast at 0800. Good night," and with a smile he was gone. "I still can't get used to the idea that he knows what we're going to get up to," said Prince. I laughed. "You will. It took us a while when we started, but now it doesn't bother me at all. Come on, I want to make good use of the time we're here." Once we got to the room and got our clothes off there was no holding back. I pushed him onto the bed and kissed him vigorously. During the year since we'd had six new bell boys all of them had become relaxed about easy uncomplicated sex with the rest of us. Our boyfriends were special, but sex with other boys was pretty good too. I didn't keep an exact note of what I'd done with each of the others (though I had a fairly good idea), and I did know that while Javid had been the boy I'd had fun with most often, Prince was probably the least. The next week or two should even things up nicely. I'd fucked him when we were recruiting, but only a few times since then. He'd fucked me once not long after he got back, and I definitely wanted more. So being on our own in a Philadelphia hotel was not going to be wasted. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 104 as Prince and I enjoy some quality time together, and I busy myself out of harm's way. The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing last year, 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. ===============================================================================