Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2018 08:52:29 +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 105 Prince, who was 16 by then, gave evidence like a sober adult. He answered the DA's questions, taking him through what happened at the farm (in considerable and shocking detail) and how Sarah had found him and rescued him. The DA then sat down and the defence lawyer stood up. He tried to portray Prince as an ignorant black boy, steeped in the dishonesty of his race, who would tell lies for money. The judge was having none of that. "You are not in Alabama, Mr Tweed, and unless you can produce evidence of this witness's dishonesty or his ignorance I shall require you to proceed with your questions directly." Mr Tweed, having made his point that it was never wise in his view to trust the word of a black person, started to cross-question Prince. Naturally he went to the critical point first. "Why did you leave a well-paid and secure position on Queen Mary? I understand you had only joined the ship a few days before." Prince simply said what Sir had told him to say, and he managed it beautifully. "I'm ashamed to say I was seduced by the man I only know as Edward. He offered me money to have sex with him. He was kind and gentle and when he offered me more money to spend the night with him in his cabin I accepted. At the time it all seemed very glamorous to a 15-year-old boy with no experience of the world. I know now that I was both very foolish and very lucky to have escaped." The defence lawyer pressed him. "I suggest you were acting as a boy prostitute and that you set out to entrap my client." "No sir, I did not set out to attract anyone. I was doing my job as an elevator boy." I was pleased that he had managed to be totally truthful - they weren't allowed to make either an advance or a positive response. The lawyer then moved on to how Prince had escaped. Why had it taken him 11 days? Surely that meant that he was being looked after and was happy to remain. "No sir. The door was locked every time that man (he pointed to the driver) left us after he brought the food." At this point the driver made a fatal mistake. He jumped up in the dock and pointed at Prince screaming "that little fucker bit my dick. How could I lock the fucking door with my dick bitten in half?" His lawyer shut him up, but the damage was done. The judge turned to Prince. "The accused has said that you bit his penis. Is this true? You are under oath, remember." Prince didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir. I did." "Good," said the judge, "that takes us a great deal further forward. By his own admission the unfortunate accused has said that he was receiving oral sex from you. I take it that this wasn't your idea?" "No, sir." "Very well then." He turned to the defence lawyer. "I'm adding a charge of statutory rape. The boy was 15 when he was abducted, and your client, out of his own mouth, is admitting the offense." There was an outbreak of scuffling in the dock at that moment and Edward gave it as his considered opinion that his driver, thitherto a trusted colleague, was now shown to be "a useless fucking cunt". The driver, not unreasonably, took exception to being thus addressed, and exchanged blows with his erstwhile employer. The said employer however landed a much more telling punch which briefly rendered the ex-driver unconscious. When the judge had finished banging his gavel and water had been supplied to revive him, the driver stood up and said "I'll spill the beans on this asshole, right now." His lawyer forcibly pushed him to a seated position and invited the judge to adjourn for a few minutes while he took fresh instructions. "You have 30 minutes," said the judge, "make each one count." When the court reconvened the defence lawyer said that the driver would plead guilty to the charges against him of abduction and assault of a minor and that it was his - the lawyer's - understanding that the evidence he would give would result in a conviction of Edward. The judge said that continuing was a waste of time. He addressed Edward. "If you change your plea right now to guilty, and save this court a mess of time, I'll reduce your sentence by one third. You have one minute to consult your attorney." "No need, your honor - guilty," said Edward. "Fine," said the judge. I sentence you to 10 years for abduction of a minor. Since you abducted eight minors that should come to 80 years, but I'll be lenient and just make it 10." Edward seemed relieved. The judge went on. "But you only abducted each minor once. You are also charged with, and have pleaded guilty to, assaulting a minor. I don't know - and I don't intend putting any of your other victims to the ordeal of testifying in order to find out - how many times you assaulted - raped would be a better word - each of these children, boys as well as girls. Let's say you assaulted each one once a week for six months. That's about 200 assaults. I think a month in jail for each one would be about right. Let's see, that's 16 and a bit years. How about I sentence you to a total of 25 years. Take him down." That was the last we saw of Edward: Edward with whom Prince had had such wonderful sex. It was very strange. The judge turned to the driver. "Now you were a mere employee, and I cannot sentence you as heavily as your employer. Perhaps you were coerced and acted in fear of him. In consideration of this I am sentencing you to imprisonment for a shorter term - 15 years. However you are under an additional charge of statutory rape, a more grievous felony than assault of a minor. I have considered a sentence of 10 years for this offense. However in consideration of two things I am going to impose a lesser penalty. You have assisted the court by offering to give evidence against your co-accused, and that is why your sentence which would have been 20 years was reduced to 15 years. Secondly you have suffered the pain of having your penis bitten by the witness. I noted that male persons in this court all shuddered when you described this in your colorful outburst. Your sentence of 10 years for statutory rape will therefore run concurrently. Take him down." The judge then told Prince to stand up. "I'm grateful to you for your honesty, young man. It cannot be easy for a black boy to come into a court and give evidence against a white man, indeed from all accounts a white gentleman." "Thank you, sir," said Prince, aware that a response of some kind was needed. "However, by your own admission you have committed an act of grievous bodily harm." Sitting next to Sir I could feel him stiffen. "I have considered what penalty I should impose. There is no precedent in Pennsylvania's legal journals for the appropriate sanction against a male minor who forcefully bites a man's penis while engaged in an act of non-consensual fellatio. I have therefore decided to set a precedent, hoping that it will never be required again." The judge paused for effect. Bloody drama queen, I thought. "Fine $5." The court dissolved into laughter. The judge gavelled happily. Sir leant forward and gave Prince $5 which Prince offered to the judge, who pointed him firmly in the direction of the Court Clerk. The two FBI men who had been in court and who had had some difficulty in keeping straight faces came up to the three of us. "Well done, Prince. The judge was right - it can't have been easy." Prince then earned even higher points by simply saying that in England nobody bothered very much about black or white, so it hadn't dawned on him that people anywhere else might think differently. I knew this was tosh, and Prince knew it was tosh, but the FBI were mightily impressed. They turned to Sir. "We're done here, Mr Corrigan. I imagine you'll want to get back." Sir pointed out that 'getting back' wasn't a simple matter. "Queen Mary is two days out from New York headed for England. She won't be back here for 11 days. You can accommodate us until then, or you can get us to England in time to join Queen Mary in five days. Would you like to think about which you prefer?" This was going to be fun, I thought. The FBI men came back again that evening. They had been in touch with their superiors who had in turn apparently been in touch with Cunard. Cunard wanted us back in Southampton to resume our duties as soon as possible and were prepared to assist with some of the cost. A month earlier Pan-Am airline had started a transatlantic service using flying boats (we had no idea what they were) and the next Yankee Clipper would leave in two days. It would land in Southampton the day before Queen Mary arrived. It would cost each of us $400 - a vast sum in those days - and Cunard were willing to pay $500. The US Government would pay the rest and all our - their, really - expenses in Pennsylvania. Were we willing to risk our lives flying? When Sir saw the delight on both our eyes he saw that there was no choice. "Of course," he said, "that will be the wisest course. Can you arrange it for us?" It transpired that a lot of strings were pulled behind the scenes, and passengers who had been booked on the flight were told they would be flying on the next flight a week later in view of the urgent needs of some foreign VIPs. I'd never been a VIP before, and only once since. We were moved to a hotel in a place called Glen Cove beyond New York on Long Island, near to Port Washington where the Yankee Clipper would take us on board the following morning. The town was crawling with the biggest houses I'd ever seen, butt he hotel arrangements at Glen Cove were a bit more basic that the FBI had provided in Philadelphia. Still, Sir had his own room and when he was asked at the desk if his "two boys would mind sharing a king-sized bed" he gave no impression of surprise, or (better) doubt. It seemed that all tastes were being catered for. It was only years later that I discovered that it was not uncommon in America for two men travelling together to share a bed (which was damn nearly the size of Yorkshire, and in which two men not wishing to have sexual - or any other - contact could happily sleep a good six feet apart). Not so with us, however. Sir was being asked because his boys were of different colours. Prince and I fucked happily that night and the night after. We were successful in almost completing the full litany of sexual possibilities: each of us had sucked the other and swallowed his spunk; each of us had fucked the other as many ways as we could think of. We had happily pissed on each other and on the second night, emboldened by beer, I persuaded Prince to pissfuck me. Each of us had had several fingers up the other's arse and prostates had been vigorously stimulated. Prince's hands were far too big for fisting to be a possibility, but mine were smaller and although I hadn't raised the subject I planned to do so at the right moment. After dinner on the second night Sir had told us that we would be called for at 0700 the next morning, "so do try to get some sleep, there's good boys." Prince was still easily surprised by Sir's complicity in our nocturnal goings-on. I pointed out that Sir's room was next to ours, and that he could probably hear every word. "And every moan too," I added. Perhaps because he found it easier to accept Sir's proximity and awareness, Prince was particularly noisy and boisterous that night. We were in bed by 2100, in the shower by 2130, back in bed by 2200 and finally asleep by about 0130. Sir gave us both a very old-fashioned look when we dragged ourselves down to the lobby at 0659. A car appeared and we were driven to the Pan Am flying boat dock where we saw a huge aeroplane floating a few yards away. None of us had been in a plane before, and we boys were like 10-year-olds, making no effort to conceal our excitement (much as we had been a few hours earlier). Sir saw to all the formalities and an hour later we were on board, sitting in a Lounge with about 50 other people. There were another dozen or so in First Class, but even the poor people in the back like us had lots of attendants looking after us. Prince and I were sitting together with Sir across the aisle, next to another man. The Captain told us what would happen. We would fly to Shediac in Canada, then to Botwood right at the tip of Newfoundland. Then we'd start to cross the Atlantic to Foynes in Ireland. The last leg would be down to Southampton. I wondered whether we'd be able to see Queen Mary, due into Southampton two days after us. "I doubt it," said Sir, "she'll be a good 100 miles south of us." It turned out we'd be flying through the night, so the various stops were for fuel and getting more supplies on board. "Once we're airborne I will let you know that you can walk about, but until then please remain in your seats. The cabin attendants will show you how to fasten your belts, and will look after all your needs." I nudged Prince. "I hope so," I whispered. Prince's eyebrows shot up. "In here?" I said I couldn't see why not, and gave it as my view that it was worth a try. "Bet you a dollar you can't get it off on the plane," he said. "Done," I said, "but I think you mean getting it off with someone other than you, or me having a wank." He agreed: intimacy with a third party would be needed for money to change hands. About 20 minutes into the flight a cabin attendant came to talk to Sir, and invited him to follow him. Naturally we were curious. When Sir came back he leant across and spoke quietly to us. "The Captain knows all about us. It makes sense if we've been allocated last-minute places. He knows the bare bones of why we were in Philadelphia, but not the full details. He wants you two to visit the cockpit where they fly the thing from, and I told him you'd be thrilled - which I imagine is true." The 10-year-olds nodded enthusiastically. "There's only room for one at a time and someone will come to take you forward when they're ready. Patrick, we'll do this alphabetically." I wasn't collected until after we'd left Shediac in the middle of the afternoon. We were accustomed to changing the time as we crossed in Queen Mary, but up in the air none of us had much idea of what time it was on the ground. By the time I left the cockpit 45 minutes later I knew a lot about the aircraft and the route we were flying, none of which remained with me for more than a few days, and a great deal about matters of far greater interest to me. The man who had conducted me into The Presence - Ken, 22, from New York City, and the Second Steward - and I chatted about the crewing levels. I explained what my position was, and how the bell boys operated (only the official duties, you understand). We had about 2 passengers for every crew member, although only about half had any passenger contact. What about Pan Am? "There are 11 of us, but passengers - well, the ones who aren't VIPs and get invited up front - only see the two Stewards. You guys must be pretty special ... who are you anyway?" I explained that Prince had been a witness in a court case in Philadelphia and Cunard were flying us home to rejoin Queen Mary. "We'll pass her somewhere in mid-Atlantic," I said, "but we'll be too far north, or so my boss Mr Corrigan says." I rather fancied Ken, but he'd given no sign of any interest in me, beyond his professional interest in being nice to a VIP. "Are all the crew as young as you?" I said. A bit blatant, perhaps, but I couldn't think of anything better. He laughed. "No, most of them have thousands of hours flying time, and they're generally in the 40s. There's only three of us as young as I am, as you put it. Why?" I had to think fast. "If aeroplanes are flying people across faster than Queen Mary can then sooner or later all the passengers will want to fly. Well, maybe not all, but enough to mean that plenty more flights will need to be put on. And more flights means more jobs for bright sparky guys like me. And Prince," I added quickly. "You should talk to the other two," said Ken. (Good, I thought.) "I'll get you somewhere over the ocean tonight." I smiled. "Thanks, Ken, that would be nice." I hoped that one of the other two might be more likely to provide in-flight entertainment than Ken, charming and helpful though he was, We all got off at Botwood to stretch our legs. They refuelled the plane, which took almost as long as refuelling us. They'd given us a meal during the first leg. but by now everyone on board was hungry. They gave us a good meal and we were all herded back on board just as the sun was beginning to set. "We can't take off in the dark," explained Ken as he came through the Lounge. Sitting doing nothing in a noisy plane soon palls, and we snuggled down in our seats for the night. It would be about 10 hours until we got to Ireland the following morning. I felt my shoulder being gently shaken. Ken beckoned me and I followed him to the rear of the Lounge. He opened a door marked "CREW". This is what VIPs get in the middle of the night, I thought. There was a small cabin there with two men sitting, their jackets over the backs of their chairs. "This is Patrick," said Ken, and he introduced me to Thomas and Archie before leaving me in their care. I sat down. "What do you do?" I asked. Archie said he was the junior navigator. He was being trained and had been with Pan Am for three years. He was 22 and from Miami in Florida. Thomas was 21. His job was dealing with all the technical stuff while the plane was on land or, rather, on the water next to the land. He was in charge of refuelling, and so had nothing to do while we were in the air. He'd been with Pan Am since he left school in Akron, in Ohio. I confessed that I had heard of none of these places. "Oh my!" said Archie. I studied both of them. It was going to be up to me. I had to get one of them on his own, so I said that my colleague Prince would be interested in talking as well. He was asleep, but I said that Archie should go and wake him, and see if he was interested. I thought Thomas seemed more likely to be interested in what I was interested in, and besides, he was nicer looking. An even better reason was that Archie was as black as Prince, and might therefore be more likely to find him of conversational interest. As soon as Archie went to find Prince I took courage in both hands. "As well as looking after passengers in the ship's elevators some of us look after them in other ways." I waited. After a few seconds he looked sideways at me. "Are you saying you ... you know ... do things?" "Sure I do things, and blow jobs is one of them." I waited again. After another few seconds he looked at me properly. "Would you ... you know ... ?" I nodded. "Where?" I said, "Archie could come back any minute." Thomas smiled. "If he did he'd just have to wait his turn, wouldn't he?" "What about other crew?" "No-one else comes in here at night. They're all on duty. Only Archie and I are in here over the ocean." "Stand up then," I said. I knelt in front of him and undid his belt and trouser buttons. I pulled his trousers over the large bulge in his pants. I nuzzled the bulge and it twitched as I did so. I carefully eased his pants over his cock - a hard 7 inches of cut all-American boy. My lips and tongue were soon at work, lapping hungrily; his hands found my head, stroking and caressing. I didn't want to take too long about getting him to come, because I wanted to finish before Archie came back. After three minutes or so I felt him tremble and his knees wobbled. I sucked him as deep in as I could and was rewarded with several spurts of Akron spunk. He leant forward over me after his cock subsided, stroking my hair and murmuring nonsense about what a splendid orgasm I had brought about. "It was like the Fourth of July," he said. I hadn't had my cock-sucking skills likened to a date before, but it seemed like a good thing. Thomas adjusted his clothing, which was a pity. He had a nice cock and I'd have liked to stroke it to see if it could be fired up again. "What about you?" he said, "I don't give head." "That's a pity," I said. "You could fuck me, but you've only just jizzed, or I could fuck you." That was the point, while a decision was still awaited, at which Archie returned with Prince in tow. "You won't believe my luck, Thomas," said Archie. "I sat beside Prince. He was still asleep with the blanket over him. Until that moment I didn't know he was another black boy. He looked so sweet. I put my hand under the blanket - it was dark and I knew no-one could see. To my surprise his trousers were undone and his cock was lying against his belly. I could feel it was big, and when I stroked it and it got bigger he murmured `yes, Patrick' in his sleep. That seemed to me to be saying that he and you, Patrick, get it on together. I knew that Thomas would want to get some action with you, so I kept on stroking for five minutes to give you time to get started. Then I held Prince's cock tight and shook his arm gently. `Come on, Prince,' I said, `I know a more comfortable place. By then he was awake. `Come on,' I said again, `do up your trousers and follow me'. And here we are." Prince seemed dazed at all this. "It's OK," I said, "you've lost the bet, but you get to play with Archie." I was still concerned in case someone else came in, but they both said it wasn't going to happen. Prince and I had a very brief whispered conversation in which I assured him that we were safe enough in here with these two and we agreed that I would have Thomas and he Archie. To be strictly accurate I should tell you that we agreed that I would have Thomas and he would have Archie before we changed round. "OK, guys," I said, "if you're certain it's safe then we're keen to play." Archie said that if Prince's cock was as big as it felt then he wanted Prince to fuck him. Prince grinned. "It is, and I will fuck you with pleasure." "What about us, Thomas?" Thomas said he wanted to fuck me, but he would need half an hour before he could get it up. "In that case how am I going to get off?" Archie looked at Thomas. "You don't give head, but I do." It was suddenly clear to me that these two were regular fuck buddies, and I wasn't surprised when Thomas said that Archie could surely have fun with me while he allowed his cock its short rest. It seemed sensible for Archie to get to work on me without delay, allowing both fucks to take place together when Thomas was up to it. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 106. Although some things have been invented, the itinerary of the Yankee Clipper is true (although whether or not the 314 flew during the night might well be something invented for the purpose of the story). Its inaugural scheduled transatlantic flight was in June 1939. 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. ===============================================================================