Date: Thu, 29 Mar 2018 10:54:42 +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 =============================================================================== Chapter 37 I stretched out X-wise on my back with my feet at the head of the bed. Arthur was sitting up leaning on the headboard, so he would see everything that happened as Tim's fist disappeared before his very eyes. It was a toss-up whether he had seen this kind of thing before: if he hadn't then surely he would be impelled to get into one of our arses. Time would tell. Tim is a first-class fister, as you may already have noticed. We both knew that I was well greased, but the performance required him to get me ready, so he knelt between my legs and began to rim me. Moaning was called for as I felt his tongue approach, and enter, my arsehole. He licked my arse lips and Arthur's eyes began to widen. More moaning from me induced Tim to put a finger in and wiggle it around. "Oh Tim, that's so hot, give me another," I murmured, largely for Arthur's benefit. Tim needed no instruction - he could do this blindfold (as could I, of course). It's nice being a twin. A second finger ... and a third. "Ooooh! don't make me jizz, Tim, I need to save it for Arthur." Tim was very careful not to go near my prostate, so he took his fingers out carefully. "How do you like what you see, Arthur?" he asked. Arthur said that he liked it very much. "Would you like to see more?" Yes, Arthur would. I pulled my knees up to my ears. My arse, wet and eager, was now open to Arthur's gaze, about two feet away. Tim slowly put his fingers in and made the wedge. "Go on," I said, "I want you to fill me up." As his hand gradually disappeared past my sphincter I grunted "aaah! that's so good" and Arthur said quietly "fuck me, kid, that's so hot." I looked over and was pleased to see that Arthur's cock was now flying at full mast. "Why don't you get out, Tim, and let Arthur fuck me," I said, "his cock's much bigger than your hand and with all the jizz he's swallowed it would be good to feel him shooting it up me." Such dirty talk was all Arthur needed. "Yeah!" he cried and Tim whipped his hand out just in time. I spun round, still with my knees up and my arse fully exposed, and Arthur positioned himself. "Go for it, Arthur," said Tim, "fill him up. He loves a big man-sized cock." Tim was exaggerating somewhat, as Arthur's cock wasn't all that worth writing home about, but it was the kind of encouragement Arthur wanted to hear. "Take it, boy," he muttered as he stuck it in. I was very happy to take it. He pounded away, much like a 16-year-old who saw fucking as a sprint, and in about two minutes he started making a lot of noise. Each inward stroke was accompanied by "oof!" and each outward by "aah!". I could see Tim behind him doing his best not to laugh, and for fear of a similar fate befalling me I closed my eyes. Arthur interpreted this as a sign that his fucking was taking me to a state of ecstasy, an impression I reinforced by moaning and occasionally saying "oh! that's good" and "oh fuck! it's so big". Arthur's noises grew louder and, as he sensed the tape, grew closer together. Then, with a big final push, he came and all the spunk he'd swallowed miraculously flew up into my arse. I know the biology is a bit more complicated, but I'm cutting out the middle man here. I was nowhere near coming, but Tim had the brilliant idea that Arthur, at the peak of his excitement, would welcome a top-up, so he knelt on top of me and wanked himself furiously. "Here it is Arthur, here it comes!" and Arthur had the wit to open his mouth to receive a tankful hot from the balls of the youngest person there. Arthur rolled it round his mouth, enjoying the taste, and at last swallowed. "Thanks, Tim, you're a swell kid." He pulled out of my arse and lay back, sweating freely. Now was the time to give him both barrels. I knelt over him, my arse leaking in a manner I hoped he would find pleasing, and started a slow wank, quite unlike Tim's thrashing. "This is to thank you, Arthur," I said as I pulled my foreskin right back to let him see the glistening head of my cock. "You can lick it if you like." Arthur did like. "Mmm!" Now let me give you the jizz I've got for you," and I wanked a bit faster. I could feel his spunk leaking, so I moved up a bit. "Oh, Arthur, your jizz is coming out of his arse onto your cock," said Tim, "it's so hot to see it." It's astonishing how easily a man in Arthur's position - with a boy wanking right in front of him, and his own spunk dripping into his cock - can be kept in a state of sexual arousal by such banal chatter. "Yes, yes," he said, "come on Patrick, I need your jizz." I, who needed no encouragement, accelerated and after advising him that ejaculation was imminent I fired what I had left into his greedy open mouth. His expression as he lay back against the pillows was beatific. He had swallowed two good-sized Mulloy cums; he had witnessed a 14-year-old being fisted right in front of his face; he had had what was probably the first fuck for ages (and certainly the youngest fuck ever) and the interesting sensation of his own cum, still warm, dripping out of the freshly-fucked boy onto his own cock. Now was the time to remind him about further delights from the rampant cocks of four more lusty lads. "I hadn't forgotten. I can think of nothing which would make this trip memorable." "That's good," I said, "because that's why we do what we do. We want to make your trip memorable. How about all six of us come here at this time tomorrow. Each of us will jizz in your mouth. You can feel us up, whatever, and it'll be $25 a head - $150 altogether. We won't be able to stay for an hour because we all have other duties, and we can't be away that long. How does that sound?" "That sounds just what the doctor ordered, Patrick. You're a good businessman." "I will get my boss to come and see you, as before. We have a deal?" "We have a deal," and we shook hands solemnly, our wet cocks bouncing limply as we did so. Tim and I put our uniforms back on. "We'll see you tomorrow, Arthur," he said, smiling wickedly, "it'll be good fun." Back in the cabin we stripped off and showered. "That's the easiest money we'll ever earn," said Tim. "I'll go and tell Sir to get $150 off him," I said. Sir was amused when I told him that Arthur's seemingly insatiable desire for our spunk was to be satisfied the next day. "I said he could have all six of us for $25 each, but that we couldn't stay for an hour. I said he could feel us up though." "And was he happy?" "Oh yes. I told him you'd see him to sort it out. We agreed tomorrow morning. That leaves us the whole of the rest of the day." "I may have more to tell you all about that tomorrow at 0915. Did he feel you up today, as you put it?" I told him that we had decided to give him a show between our first and second anointing of his tonsils, and that Tim had fisted me." "Do you enjoy that?" Sir asked in surprise. "Yes. Tim and I have fairly small hands and we like fisting each other. Arthur was so excited by seeing Tim's hand disappearing up me that he got an erection and fucked me himself. From the sound of it I was the first person he'd fucked for ages." "And perhaps the youngest." "And certainly the best." Sir laughed, "you could well be right, Patrick." Tim and I met again at our meal break. "What did Sir say?" he asked. I told him that he'd been as amused as we had been that the silly fool was prepared to part with a lot of money just to have six boys cum in his mouth. "Just think," he mused, "we get it for nothing. Where can we get hold of a mango? I want to try one." I said I was sure they'd have such a thing in the galley, and that we'd share one if we found it. "We've shared what he said it tasted like often enough." I smiled, "we have that, and I hope we'll go on. That's if you have any left after Sam's drained you dry." It was Tim's turn to smile. "Yes, that could be a problem. Would you and Charlie like to come to our cabin tonight for a foursome?" I nodded. "Unless Sir has any of us for an overnight with a client, but I think we'd have heard by now." Our meal finished we went back to elevator duty. Neither of us had any clients for the rest of the day. Sam and Charlie each had a client that afternoon, and both of us were a bit edgy. This was something we'd get used to, but it was still too new for us to be completely relaxed. "Let's be in our cabins when they get back," he suggested. As I got to my elevator I saw Andrew standing outside his. "All OK?" I asked. "Yes, it's quieter at this time of day. Alan told me that he'd got an interested passenger and he went off to tell Sir. I had a boy with me a few times this morning - on his own - and I got the idea he was plucking up his courage to say something, but he never did." I asked him how old the boy had been. "12 or 13 I'd guess. Why?" I said that if the boy appeared on his own again Andrew should tell him that there was an elevator boy his age at one of the other elevators who might like to meet him. "It's worth a try," I said, "point him at Tim or me. We're nearer his age and if he wants to fool about he'll find it easier to talk to us. 12 to 16 is a big age gap. You're practically a man in his eyes." "Maybe that's what he liked." "True, but maybe he needs another boy to help him make the leap. Try it, anyway." I told Tim about it, not really expecting anything to come of it. I was therefore surprised when, about an hour and a half later, a boy got on and asked if I was Tim or Patrick. "Patrick," I said, and I suppose Andrew sent you." He was taken aback by this, and said nothing. "What's your name?" I said. "Gordon. Are you ... can I ... oh hell." "Gordon, you can talk to me. I won't bite. Where are you from?" He blushed, "Manchester," was all he said. I was going to have to take all the initial steps. "Gordon, I said I won't bite, but what would you prefer me to do?" His blush deepened. "Can I ... can you come to my cabin and play?" I hadn't had it put in those terms before, certainly not by a 12-year-old, but I was pretty sure we were on the same wavelength. "Won't your parents be there?" "Not for an hour. They play bridge in the afternoon." It seemed a fun thing to do, but there was no way I was going to take the risk of his parents deciding that bridge was boring that afternoon, and being found 'playing' with Gordon - not the sort of 'playing' I was pretty sure he meant. I took the bull by the horns. "Look Gordon, I think I know what you're after." I grabbed my own cock and he nodded. "Well, I'm not allowed in your cabin, but why don't you come to mine. I don't have any parents on the ship." It took Gordon two seconds flat to accept this offer. "Now?" he said. "Why not? If you're up for it let's go straight there." It's strange how invisible boys of our age are. We walked through the main part of the ship - me in uniform and Gordon in shorts and a sports shirt - and nobody paid the slightest attention. We got to our cabin and luckily Charlie was with his client. I reckoned we had over half an hour before he was due back. Gordon sat on the bed. I knelt between his legs and stretched out my hand to the swelling in his shorts. "Take them off," I said quietly. He nodded, "I will if you will." Instead of standing up and stripping off I ran my hand up the inside of his leg into his shorts. He gasped. My hand went on until it came up against something warm and interesting: his balls. It was my turn to be surprised. "No pants?" I whispered. He nodded, "it feels nicer that way." "Well, they feel nice to me too," I said and allowed my fingers to explore. I reached up a bit further and felt the base of his cock. It was hard and quite a good size for a boy his age. "How old are you, Gordon?" "I'll be 13 next month." "And have you done this kind of thing with other boys?" He nodded, "I fool about with my friend Simon - he was 13 two months ago." This was becoming interesting. "What would you like to do here?" The ball was in his court. He didn't hesitate. "I want to see your cock and play with it. Simon's fun but all we ever do is pull each other's cocks until we get the feeling. I want to do different things. How old are you anyway?" I said I was 14 and that those extra dozen or more months meant that I knew a lot of things he hadn't found out about yet. "Do you want me to show you?" He nodded. "OK, let's get our clothes off," I said, and set an example of speed. "Wow!" he said, "you're not wearing pants either. And your cock's much bigger than mine." While this was true I pointed out that once he started to grow it would probably be an inch or two longer in a year or two. "Don't you and Simon measure them? My brother and I always did." "Yes, we measure them every Saturday. We get them hard first. Simon's best is almost four and a quarter inches. Mine's just four." "Well, Gordon, from where I'm looking your four inches are just fine. Now lie down here beside me." I reached over and stroked his cock. Like mine it was hairless and uncut. I drew his foreskin gently back and blew cold air through my pursed lips. He shuddered. "Gosh!" I wondered whether I should teach him that 'fuck!' would have been a more appropriate thing to say in these circumstances, but decided that such advanced instruction could wait. Simon's technique hadn't run to this then. I looked at his cock and was pleased to see that he had washed. I can't abide stinky cocks. "Close your eyes, Gordon, you're about to have a treat." I bent over and blew again. He shuddered again. My lips closed round his wet acorn and my tongue gently licked up along the underside, focusing on his frenulum. He went wild, clasping my head - as I'd hoped he would - and moaning happily. 'Gosh' had been found inadequate. Could I get him to come just by doing this, I wondered. Maybe I could, maybe I couldn't, but it would do no harm if his balls were gently manipulated at the same time. I lifted my mouth off for long enough to ask if he could squirt yet. "Yes, but not very much. I first did two months ago." "Well, I promise you the squirt you have in a few minutes will be the biggest and best of your life," and I resumed mouth duty. It was gratifying that he felt no need to keep still - indeed he probably couldn't have kept still unless he'd been held down. His legs thrashed about as his orgasm gradually crept up on him. "I'm ... I'm going to do it in your ... aaaaah!" and I felt his cock spasm as his balls did their best to fire down my throat. There were two good spurts and a couple more of lesser strength. I reckoned he'd want to see what a mouthful of cum looked like, so I opened my mouth to show him. "You're not going to swallow it are you?" When I had done so, with much smacking of lips and saying 'yum!' I told him that I always swallowed. "Isn't it all slimy and nasty?" Now there were two ways of dealing with a question like that. One was to say, truthfully, 'no, it's not nasty. It doesn't taste like anything else. Some boys taste sweet and some taste salty. I was told that mine tastes of almonds." The second method was to add, "do you like almonds?" Gordon, still not 100% with me, said that he would like to try, but didn't know. The classic teenage conundrum. "You'll never find out if you don't try. Tell me, did you enjoy what I just did?" "What a daft question, Patrick, couldn't you tell." "OK, so you loved it, and so did I. I like it when boys come - that's what it's called, coming - in my mouth. I like swallowing their spunk - that's the squirt stuff. And I'll tell you this. I bet when you go and suck Simon's cock he'll be your best friend for ever." Gordon digested this. After a minute he said quietly, "will you teach me?" It was 1435. I had maybe 15 minutes. "OK." I sat on the bed propped up against the wall where I could see what Gordon was doing. "The most important thing," I said, "is to keep your teeth out of the way. Your lips and tongue should touch as much of my cock as you can. It's not important to try to get it down your throat - you'll probably be sick and anyway, the sensitive bits of your mouth are at the front," and I pointed to my lips and tongue. "If you're going to suck Simon's cock he'll probably be so excited by the sensation that he'll come quite quickly, and probably without warning. You have to decide what to do." "How do you mean?" "Well, you can swallow it - that's what I do - or you can spit it out, or you can take it out of your mouth before he shoots and watch it squirt out onto your belly, or onto his. I guess Simon will want to try everything, as that way it's more fun." Gordon didn't pause. "I want to swallow yours," he said, "that sounds best." I made him kneel between my legs and told him that the most sensitive parts were the head, and the frenulum, and I drew back my foreskin and pointed to it. "Now let's see what you can do," I said, and settled back to enjoy a 12-year-old. It was four days since Zizi. Gordon took my cock in his left hand and licked around the tip (my foreskin had popped forward again). After a minute or two he peeled it back with his right hand and I felt his tongue tentatively lick round my piss hole. "You can lick harder - it's not made of glass." He took my advice and he was really enjoying it. He remembered my frenulum and I exaggerated the involuntary shudder when he did so, but not by much. My hands went to his head, and I stroked his hair - soft blond hair, the sort of hair that any half-decent pervert would willingly die to have bobbing between his legs. "That's really nice, Gordon, you're good at this." Thus encouraged he went on filling the nerve-endings in my cock with electric tingles. "I'm getting near," I warned him, "do you want me to tell you it's coming?" In the brief half second that his mouth was disconnected from my cock the answer 'no' was heard. Good, I thought. It was less than a minute later that my third orgasm of the day took place: the third in someone's mouth and, from my point of view, by a long chalk the nicest. Gordon could sense from my body's movements that he was about to attain his objective and for a novice he handled a mouthful of spunk really well. I made four squirts and none of it leaked from his mouth. I wondered about a kiss, but felt that it would belong in another lesson, perhaps delivered by Simon after their first such excitement. Gordon sat up, his face wreathed in smiles. "That was awesome," he said, "now I know what almonds taste like." "Me too. Simon will love you for ever. Now get dressed before they miss you." We both stood up, our cocks soft and wet still. "Thank you, Patrick," he said simply. And then he - he, not me - leant forward and kissed my lips. I took him in my arms and kissed him back. When we broke apart I said you were allowed to use your tongue when kissing. "I need to try that too then," he said. It was a good five minutes before we finally left to go back to real life. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 38 as we get 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. ===============================================================================