Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2019 18:02:20 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 161 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 161 We left George at Heathrow and the three of us made our way home to Aylesbury. (There was never much question about where `home' was going to be for George and Kevin. The boy was 16, the year was 1967, George having sex with him would still be illegal for another 5 years. In LA they had planned that George would move from Canterbury, and now the plan had to be put into practice. Luckily when he knew he was going to have an extended holiday travelling on Queen Mary, George had asked for leave of absence for a term. When he got back to Canterbury he was able to get the school to agree that the temporary master, engaged during the term's absence, should stay on in George's place.) But that night, and for three months to follow, 'home' was still with us in Aylesbury. We were all knackered by the time we got there - the place was stuffy and cold at the same time. Charlie went round opening windows "it's bloody cold, but a few minutes getting the fug out won't make any difference" and I put the heating on. Kevin carried the cases up and put them on the bed ready for unpacking. By three o'clock (I hadn't got back into thinking 1500 thanks to the jet-lag) we were re-established with a mountain of washing in the machine, another mountain waiting its turn, a slowly-warming house and three hungry people. "Will you two fix something out of a tin while I phone Ade's mum?" I said, "then we can go and spend a fortune in the shops." I phoned Ade's mother. "Oh!" she said, "Adrian's told me all about you and Mr MacKenzie. He can't believe his dreams are coming true." I smiled: so were mine. We talked briefly about the restaurant, but she said I really ought to come to see her properly, "and Mr MacKenzie too, of course." I aid we would come to see her the following day: when would be a convenient time? "I'm home from school at 4, so why not come at 5 and Adrian will be home from after-school club then." Shopping - the biggest I think we'd ever done - was finished and the freezer and fridge stocked by 6. Our body clocks were still all to buggery, so none of us felt like eating then. It would take another 24 hours before we began to feel hungry at the right times. The three of us were sitting in the kitchen and Charlie opened a bottle of wine. "Let's celebrate," he said. "What are we celebrating?" asked Kevin. "One: the work's all done for the day. Two: we're all home safely and happy. Three: you've fallen in love and George is going to come in a few days. Four: Charlie and I are going to see Ade's mum tomorrow. Five: once this bottle's finished Charlie and I are going to drag you to bed and welcome you home in the only way we know." Kevin raised his glass. "I'll drink to that, Patrick. And I'll welcome you both in." His keenness was no greater than ours, and the bottle became a dead man more quickly that such a good wine should have done. Three minutes later the suitcases had been shoved off the bed into the spare room, and we were snuggled together. "A lot's happened since the three of us shared this bed," murmured Charlie, nuzzling Kevin's neck. "Mmm," murmured Kevin, "and all of it nice. I love what you're doing, Patrick, it's so hot having two of you doing stuff to me at the same time." I was attending to his toes: early on in our exploration of each others' bodies we'd found that Kevin's feet - toes especially - were high up on his list of erogenous zones. Since he liked having them sucked and since they were nice, suckable toes they rarely got left out in the process of preliminary jollies. Once I had taken one foot and Charlie the other - it was in high summer so we were all naked on the bed without the encumbrance of bedclothes - and we had spent over an hour never getting nearer his boy bits than about three inches above his knees. We had done something similar (though vastly less protracted) a few days before, and in consequence of Kevin's inability to keep his hands off his cock I had gone up to London and (in a theatrical props shop) had bought two pairs of handcuffs. I have to report that Kevin seemed rather more enthusiastic about the sight of these than I had expected a well-brought-up English boy of 16 to be. That hot summer afternoon I had fastened his hands to the bed head and his squirming and writhing were a joy to behold. (Even in that heat we had the bedroom windows closed, of course. No point in upsetting the neighbours.) That night we fastened him in his handcuffs again and gave his toes the attention they craved. Charlie and I didn't spend an hour this time, but it was a good 30 minutes before we reached the parts that were of more interest to us. Many months earlier we had evolved a system: when our heads became too close for comfort as we licked further and further up the inside of his thighs Charlie would drift up to nipple country and I would stay down below. Neither of us had any idea of how Kevin's lovemaking with George was structured, if indeed it was structured at all: they were still too new to each other's bodies for anything so routine as a structure to have evolved, and Kevin wasn't showing any signs that he was anything other than wholly engrossed in what we were up to. So we just went on doing what we knew turned him (and us) on. His cock had been leaking pre-cum for a long time by the time my tongue finally touched his balls. It gave a lurch when I took one of the precious globes into my mouth. He lifted his arse off the bed and his legs went round my shoulders. My mouth dropped a couple of inches: Kevin wanted my tongue on his arse. This was quite unlike what we'd done so recently in Kingston: this was the sex you had in the relaxed comfort of your own bed - no audience, no need to please anybody other than the people you were in bed with. "Oh, Patrick, it's so good to be home," he sighed, seconds before my two fingers went in and rubbed his prostate. "Aaaah!" and his first orgasm flew up onto his chest. Charlie sensed its imminent approach and moved his head out of the way just in time to see the three hot streams coat the smooth hairless chest of the boy. None of it went to waste. "Kiss me, Charlie," whispered Kevin. Charlie's tongue entered Kevin's mouth at the same instant that Kevin's cock entered my mouth - a cock still hot and hard, a cock with a few drops of his precious spunk coating the silky head, a cock I knew wouldn't be in our bed after Easter, a cock, therefore, to be savoured and pleasured as much as possible before then. "Oh, God, it's nice to be home," the owner of the cock said again. I smiled: I knew how he felt. Tonight I knew that Charlie would fuck me, and I would feel that home was pretty special too. But first I had to fuck Kevin. Charlie knew the routine, and unlocked the poor boy's hands, which immediately went round Charlie's shoulders, pulling the two of them into an even more tight kiss. That was the signal for me to push my cock slowly into the 16-year-old's gorgeous willing red-hot arse and, a mere four minutes later, fill it with as much spunk as an old man could muster. Not long after the old man's arse was filled with the spunk of an even older man while Kevin, happy, fulfilled, lay beside us stroking whatever bits his hands could reach. "I love you, Charlie MacKenzie," Kevin heard me say for the thousandth time. Kevin smiled: he loved sex with Charlie MacKenzie and Patrick Mulloy, but his heart now belonged to another. He would lend his body to us, but not for much longer. The next day Charlie and I drove to Luton - it's not that far, only about an hour or so - and Ade's mother couldn't have been more excited if she herself had been going to share our bed. "Adrian hasn't stopped talking about the Queen Mary and all the fun he had. And to think he bumped into a real chef! Is he being silly, thinking that he can come and work for you?" Charlie took the lead. He explained that we always employed someone to help in the kitchen. "Mrs Gold, for many years we've had boys who've left school and who want to go on to technical college to get a proper chef's qualification, and it's a good idea that they have a year or two of experience working in a proper kitchen before they apply. The boy we have at the moment is showing signs of wanting to leave next year, so we will need to replace him soon. How lucky we were that Adrian popped up at the right time!" She asked all the right questions, and Charlie and I did our best. At that moment the front door opened and there was Ade. "Sorry I'm late, Mum. Hi Patrick and Charlie!" "Adrian!" said his mother, "that's no way to talk to Mr Mulloy and Mr MacKenzie." I put her right. "That's what we insist on being called. The restaurant is too small for any sort of formality. We both hate any kind of 'sir' about the place." She didn't look convinced. By the time we left at around 8 (after a nice high tea) we had an agreement in place. Mrs Gold would come to the restaurant with Ade for lunch on 22 December and see for herself what the situation was. If everything looked right (and even if it didn't there was little doubt that Ade would persuade her that nothing should stand in the way of his dream coming true) Ade would start with us two days after the school term ended in spring. When George phoned us the next day Charlie answered it and listened to what George was saying. "We'll see you tomorrow, then. I'm really glad. Shall I tell him, or do you want it to be a surprise?" "Oh, tell him. Why make him spend any longer than is necessary." "Do you want to stay over Christmas?" (It was 18 December, and we were re-opening two days later.) "May I? If so I'll come tomorrow and stay for one day. You'll all be busy and I don't want to be under your feet. Can I come back say two days before Christmas?" Charlie called Kevin and me, and the three of us sat in the office. "He's coming tomorrow for one night, then he'll be back for Christmas." Kevin's face was a delight - it was one of those moments you never forget. Whatever the Fates were going to throw at them in the future, that moment for Kevin was one of pure happiness. When he'd come back down to earth I said he'd better go and take his things into the guest bedroom. "That's where George will be camping out until he sorts out what he wants to do." As Kevin had been occupying that bedroom with George before we'd all left all those weeks ago there wasn't much to move from our room. While the boy was busy nesting Charlie and I wondered what George would do. I said I thought he would find a job at a girls' school doing what he'd been doing in Canterbury. "Why a girls' school?" said Charlie. "There's no need for him to avoid boys any more. The temptation is here at home, so any gorgeous sexy boys he might teach won't be hard to resist." "You're right," I said, "still, that's something he can work out when he gets here. There must be a dozen schools within 20 miles. The real problem we've got is Kevin. Will our bed be off-limits until he leaves at Easter? That has to be up to him. If he and George move out to their own place there might be tongues wagging, but at least Kevin can be a nephew more easily than he could in Canterbury." "I'll be sorry to lose him," replied Charlie, "he's bloody good for his age and he's got buckets of potential. Besides, he's got the makings if a good chef too." I laughed. So did Kevin, who had come back in time to hear Charlie's judgement of his many qualities. "You don't have to worry, you know. I want to stay with you two. Charlie's taught me a hell of a lot, and I know I want to do this for a living. George and I need to sort out whether I should go to college, but that's some time ahead. As far as after-hours activities I can't see any need for change. Once Ade shows up there won't be room anyway - either in the kitchen or the bedroom. I'll move in with George then, assuming we've got somewhere to go. If he thinks college is a good idea I'll apply to start when I'm 17. If not - well, that's something he and I will sort out. Trust me, I know what I'm doing." "I know," said Charlie, "whatever you do you'll have our support - application forms for college, a new job, we'll give you references." Kevin got up and kissed him. "I know, Charlie. Don't think of this as the end of the road - I'm here until they let the Boy Wonder leave school." "And you're in our bed until George appears," I said, "now - don't you two have things to do ready for the great rush in two days?" If Charlie was going to be busy with Kevin in the kitchen it would fall to me to make damn sure that everything - everything - was in the right place for the three of us tonight, for George and Kevin the following night, for The Great Inspection by Mrs Gold in four days, for George and Kevin over Christmas. I could see a lot of humping clothes from one room to another being needed. Tonight, however, like all the nights since we got back from Queen Mary, Kevin would still be with us. That night three of us had a more relaxed night that the night before: George was coming the next day and Kevin naturally wanted to be up for a long session with him. Charlie and I contented ourselves with allowing him to use his lips to maximum effect while putting only minimum demands on his balls. Kevin, as you've worked out, is a complete bottom, and in the years since he's been with us has shown no sign of wanting to fuck either of us. That night was no exception. While we were lying together resting (Charlie had come in Kevin's mouth, but my spunk was still undelivered) I asked Kevin whether he had ever wanted to fuck one of us. "No, not really. I love what we do, but I don't want to be a top. I imagine if George wants me to I'll give it a try, but he hasn't suggested it yet. I just love cocks up my arse and in my mouth," and he turned to me, kissed my lips gently and whispered, "just like yours now, Patrick." When he had dealt with my needs - no, that sounds too perfunctory, and he was never that. Try again, Patrick. When Kevin had teased me with his lips and tongue (and invaded my arse with a good few fingers) he could sense that I wasn't going to last much longer. He scooted round so that we were in 69 formation in good time to get the full benefit of 24-hours-woth of Mulloy spunk where he wanted it. At the same time his arse was right where I could use my tongue to prepare him for what Charlie might be able to offer by way of seconds. Kevin's arse is - oh, come off it, Patrick, you're being silly now. Kevin's arse is smooth and hairless, because that's how we - and he - liked it. But it was no more gorgeous than any of the other teenaged arses that had passed under my eyes in the last goodness knows how many years. It just happened to be the arse in front of my mouth that night, and therefor it was - wonderful. The sight (he had long since discovered that twitching his hole was stimulating to any beholder), the scent (aroused boy: musky and heady in the extreme), the taste (if you don't know that taste for yourselves you have a treat in store), all senses vying for the poor middle-aged brain's processing power. After my balls had finished their part of the fun my eyes, my nose and my tongue still had joys in front of them. I heard Charlie whisper something to Kevin, but I couldn't hear what it was. His reply was clear enough though. "Just once. You fuck me when Patrick's got me hot and I'll do it on his cock, just how he likes it." The plan was clear. I would snuffle and lap away a bit longer; I would lie on my back; Kevin would kneel over me, still facing in 69ish mode; Charlie would fuck him doggy-fashion over me; Kevin would come onto my cock; and I would by then (so went the plan) have recovered enough from my recent orgasm that a pool of warm 16-year-old's spunk on my bits would get me going enough to wank myself and produce something to add to the party. It all went beautifully to plan. Charlie came last, a couple of minutes after me. We toppled over, so that at least I didn't have two of them on top of me. Side by sticky side we each caressed the bit of body - whose? who cared? - next to him. At about 3 in the morning I needed a piss and when I got back to bed the other two were spooned happily together, Charlie's cock nestled in Kevin's arse crack. I smiled. I would miss the boy when Easter came. But before then there were many more nights with him. And after Easter - Ade. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 162 as life goes on. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real, as are the details of the final voyage. I first saw the boys while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and had the pleasure of seeing them again in April 2019, smiling at the knowledge of all the things that had befallen them since I first saw them, and thought again how cute "I" was. I'm sure he had adventures in real life ... Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. =============================================================================