Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2018 08:53:11 +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 109 At 0700 the next morning we woke, still piled together. The As would be leaving us in less than an hour: it was a sobering thought. We showered, dressed and had a quick breakfast. At 0745 they knocked on Sir's door. "Come." Sam and Tim, Charlie and I, and the Able Seamen waited outside. The door opened and we saw Alan and Andrew shake hands with Sir. We saw Alan kiss Sir and heard him say, with a catch in his voice, "thank you, thanks for everything." We went with them to the gangway where we all embraced them and shook hands. The twelve of us would never be together again. We were a sober bunch. The As' departure made us suddenly aware of the War as a reality, much nearer to us than it had seemed the day before. Sam, Charlie, Tim and I were thrown in at the deep end to training for our new roles. For Sam and Charlie it wasn't greatly different from what they'd been doing for the last year or more, but for Tim it was completely new. Several months later he told me that he had never worked as hard, nor learned as much, as he had in the Engine Room in those last few months of 1939. Sam told me that he quite enjoyed sex with a more muscled type than he had become used to. No longer the sexy skinny boys of 1936. Charlie and I - and the older men in the catering side of things - all had to work out how to cook and serve up to 10,000 men three good meals a day. Until now there had been only around a quarter of that number. The one good thing, from the preparation point of view, was that we wouldn't be expected to offer anything like the number of choices peacetime passengers had been offered. So the problem would be one of quantity. It quickly became clear that there would be a big need for unskilled labour, so our Able Seamen would have useful work to do. That evening the ten of us went for a beer. No-one cared that we were all under age. I asked the four younger ones if they had thought about what parts of the ship they wanted to serve in. Nigel said that he had always been interested in radio - he had built a crystal set, he said, and then had to explain what it was and what it did. "So?" said Prince. "Well," said Nigel, "there's bound to be a lot of radio traffic to and from the ship, and if I can learn how it all works they might let me train as a wireless operator." Sam said he would ask Will whether Nigel's idea would be possible. Tim said that he was sure there was room for more apprentices in the Engine Room. "There's a vast amount going on down there that in over three years on the ship I had no idea about. There's all sorts of jobs - mostly mucky, but if you're small you can get into tight places and be really useful." Graham, the smallest of the group, pricked up his ears at this. "Really?" he said, "I like the sound of that. It's a damn sight more interesting than peeling spuds or mopping up sick." Tim said he would take Graham down to talk to Francis the next day. Neither Javid nor Prince had decided what they wanted to do, leaving the decision until someone senior allocated them somewhere. There wasn't any hurry, after all. I was conscious as the evening wore on that the sleeping arrangements needed to be changed. With the As gone it would be wrong for George and Vincent to be by themselves. They were already different - in the sense that they would be leaving Queen Mary, but that seemed to me to be a reason to keep them involved even more than they had been. The cabins had only been the way they were because they were the only couple when the six had joined a year earlier. "I'd like to move the cabins around," I said. "We don't know how long George and Vincent will be here, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I know I want to make the most of the time they're still here. They've been a couple since before they joined, so they've maybe had less exposure to the sheer size of Sam or the sheer sexiness of the Mulloy clan. Nor the sheer delight of Charlie," I added with a grin. "If Prince and Graham, and Javid and Nigel move into Cabin 3 then George and Vincent can split up for once - it probably won't be for long - and each can have the joy of a Mulloy and his boyfriend." "Done," said George and Vincent together. The other four Able Seamen, slower to react, had no choice, but none of them seemed unhappy. They knew - we all knew - that George and Vincent could be off at a moment's notice. "I want Sam and Tim first," said Vincent. "Fine, but we change over each night," countered George. And so it was. "Come on then," said Sam, "I need to plough a fresh furrow." Five minutes later they had moved cabins and two minutes after that all ten of us were stripped for action. I wondered whether there would be a swopping party in Cabin 3 - it seemed highly likely given that the twins would probably initiate matters. George came into Cabin 1 and we closed the door. "Do you have wicked plans for a youngster like me?" he said hopefully. I assured him that our plans and his were probably matched in the wickedness scales. "What would you like first?" I said. "I want to be fucked by each of you," he said simply, "after that, let's see." Charlie's cock is bigger than mine, so it made sense for me to go first: sloppy seconds doesn't work well the other way round. I decided I would give him the most sensuous prolonged warming-up I could. "On your back then," I said. I gave his perineum a great deal of attention, my tongue travelling back and forward from the very back of his crack all the way over his arse lips to his balls: one, then the other, carefully taken into my mouth and given a good tonguing. Every so often my tongue journeyed further, licking the underside of his cock where his urethra stood prominent. His foreskin was pulled back and each time the tip of my tongue grazed his frenulum another clear drop of precum oozed from his piss slit and dropped slowly onto his belly, where a pool was gathering. Charlie had seen me do this often enough before, and had gone to kneel behind George's head, holding his hands so that he was helpless. All Charlie would do was kiss George and watch, After about fifteen minutes I slowly stroked his perineum with the back of a fingernail, causing George to arch his back and cry out - I waited in case he was about to come, but he relaxed again. "More," he murmured, "that's so fucking good, Patrick." More is what he got, and on the fourth occasion my fingernail paused at the doorway ... and rubbed round just inside. That was when George came for the first time, his spunk spurting out onto his chest. Charlie leaned forward to lick up what he could reach. "Share," moaned George. While they were busy at that end my fingers were inside - three of them stretching and rolling about merrily over George's prostate. Looking up at the other two I was surprised to see that George's cock hadn't subsided, or if it had then it had stiffened up again in next to no time. I decided a fourth finger might just about manage to get in. Its insertion produced an "oof!" "Out?" I said. "No, no, I'm loving it. I love a wide cock - it does more for me than a long one, and four fingers is wider than any cock I've had up me so far." I allowed him a moment to get used to it, then started to fuck him with my four fingers. His arse lips were really stretched, and it didn't look to me as though I could get a fist in without doing damage, so I didn't suggest going one step further. By now he was moaning pretty well continuously. It was cock time. I slowly withdrew my hand, watching fascinated (as always) as the arse lips were drawn out by my retreating greased fingers in what looked like a desperate desire to keep me in there. Hot, wet lips, lips beseeching something, anything, to get back between them. Their lust and mine matched, and my cock gently touched them. Tiny invisible hands reached out and drew me in, and my cock rejoiced at being once again in the warm dark wet place where it belonged. George's sigh of pleasure was its reward. But if George thought that my cock was about to complete the procedure quickly he was wrong. I gave him the slowest, most prolonged fuck that had given anyone other than Charlie. After about ten minutes George, who had been squirming ever since I had started to fuck him, started squirming even more. Charlie, who was always good at nipple play, leant over and gently touched his teeth to George's left nipple. George instantly arched his back and came for the second time. As far as I knew that was the first time anyone had come in Charlie's ear. There was no point in my holding back any longer. A dozen ... twenty ... I don't know how many deep hard pushes and I was coming coming coming aaah! coming deep deep in the warm wet dark where it was nice and spunky ... and relaxing and I fell forward onto George and Charlie let go of his hands and his arms went round me squeezing me and pulling me down, our bellies squishing the cummy mess. "Oh Patrick," was all he could say. We kissed. Charlie looked, a smile on his face. He'd been where George was often enough. Five minutes later Charlie took my place. "Hard, Charlie," said George, "I need you to be ruthless." Charlie grinned, "yes, master. Kneel then, I want you from behind." I do love it when Charlie gets all dominant: he doesn't do it very often, which is probably why it's such a turn-on when he does. George obediently turned over, allowing much of what I had put up there to slip gently and erotically out and trickle slowly down his perineum onto his hairless balls. Charlie took a generous amount of nature's finest lube and reached round to grasp George's half- stiff cock. "Mmm!" from George, followed immediately by "aah! fuck!" as Charlie energetically sought to start the process of adding to what had so recently trickled out. Charlie's was a 440 yards to my marathon, and it was only about three minutes before he grasped George even more tightly and fired his teuchter cum in what would turn out to be a farewell volley. At the same time the fierce wanking of George's cum-lubed cock had produced George's third cum - not as productive as the first two (my mouth being the measuring device), but just as noisy. I went for a piss when all this was done - this was unusual as we normally just slept exhausted where we were - but this time I needed to piss before going to sleep. I found Vincent in there looking very happy. "He's noisy, isn't he?" he said, "that's one of the things I love about him - there's no holding back." "You could hear then." "God yes, everything. Mind you, there were times my mind was occupied." He grinned. "Sam's pretty spectacular, isn't he?" I smiled. "Tim certainly thrives on it," I said. "It's funny," he said, "how we've all ... not just become friends, but, well, found the special person." "I know, but you and George had found each other before you joined us, hadn't you." He agreed, but went on, "we thought we were boyfriends before, but seeing, and living with, you and Charlie, and Tim and Sam, and then sharing a cabin with the As - all that made our feelings for each other so much more intense. What was really odd was Nigel and Graham each finding someone special. I didn't know twins did that." "Nor did I until it happened to me," I said, "I realised I loved Charlie and I felt bad about Tim - how he would take it. Luckily he and Sam were hit by the thunderbolt about two days later, so the awkwardness didn't last long." When I got back to the cabin George asked me what had kept me. "I bumped into Vincent and we had a chat about being in love." "Oh yeah, is that all?" "Funnily enough we were both pissing and I never even looked at his cock." "That just shows how faithful you are to me," said Charlie. "No, it only shows how shagged out he is after fucking me for so long." I kissed them both good-night as George settled down to sleep, me on one side and Charlie on the other. ***** The next morning a message came for George and Vincent. They were to go to see Sir. The rest of us were worried: was this them being sent back to England already? When they got back an hour later they were full of excitement. "We'll both be 17 early in 1940," said George, "and the Canadian Navy will take us and train us as divers. Sir said it might be months before a ship can take us back across, so this means we'll get on with what we want to do a lot sooner." "Will you be OK training as Canadians?" said Javid. "We don't see why not," said Vincent, "after all, they're part of the British Empire, so we're all on the same side." Tim asked when they would be going. "Sir didn't know, but like the As it could be at very short notice," said Vincent. "In that case each night must be treated as though it's your last - well, not your last ever, but possibly your last with civilized boys like us," I said. The two of them looked even more excited. If every night remaining on Queen Mary was going to be - or pretend to be - their last, then some memorable fucking was likely to take place. That night Charlie and I had the pleasure of entertaining Vincent. This time Charlie did the long slow stuff (Vincent came twice) while I did the follow-up. Of the two of them Vincent had the nicer arse, but George's cock was that little bit more effective when, early in the morning, it was my turn to get fucked. We alternated the two night and night about. We all knew that time was running out for such frivolity. ***** It was three days later that Sir told them that they would be leaving at 0800 the following morning. "See me at 0745," he said. That night all ten of us were in action. Charlie, Sam, Tim and I took a back seat as we had had sole access to George and Vincent for almost a week. They said they wanted to have their last night with the others who had joined Queen Mary with them, so the six of them piled into Cabin 3. Before that we'd all had a fair amount of beer, so as well as much spunk being produced and, where possible, devoured, much of the beer was recycled in the most satisfying manner. At about 0200 I remember Tim and me enjoying being pissed on (and in) by our departing heroes, and our reciprocating a few minutes later. I recall Javid and Prince solemnly fucking them almost mirroring each other's actions, even to the extent of whipping their cocks out and coming all over George's and Vincent's backs. That was before the piss, now that I remember, because their bodies were cummy and the need to be washed down was what led to Tim's suggestion that we might all get nice and wet. By 0230 we were all fast asleep, aided in that by more beer and more fucking that we were accustomed to. The result was that George and Vincent, usually larks, were decidedly owlish at 0700 when we dragged ourselves to a breakfast that none of us really felt like. At 0745 they went to Sir's, and the rest of us waited outside. At 0755 we all hugged at the top of the gangway - and they were gone. We were down to eight. ***** In the event Queen Mary stayed in New York for several months. We were tied up alongside our deadly rival, Normandie, with whom we'd swapped the Blue Riband a couple of times. There was a great deal of good-natured banter between the two crews (and a few less than good-natured broken heads as well). Queen Elizabeth eventually joined us the following March. Long, low, sleek, she crept in like a grey shadow. We'd been painted grey by then, but we'd never seen Queen Mary from a distance as we saw Queen Elizabeth. The three biggest liners in the world were side by side in New York, and we were a tiny part of history in the making. Queen Elizabeth of course had no passenger fittings which had to be removed. By the time she arrived Sir had had Queen Mary stripped of miles of carpet, paintings, furniture, all the china and glasses and beautiful cutlery, fittings of all kinds in the cabins, anything that wasn't bolted down basically. He'd done a heroic job finding warehouse capacity for the entire contents of a big ship, and the process of installing bunks and all the basic stuff we'd need for carrying thousands of young men - less discerning and more liable to be careless than our erstwhile passengers - was coming aboard daily. An army of carpenters were banging about all day for weeks. I should confess that three of these carpenters occasionally spent the night on board, and their presence went a long way to relieving the monotony of our basically doing nothing. It's true we learned our new skills, but we were ready to put them into practice long before we finally sailed. But that was still some months ahead. The big excitement, apart from the three carpenters, was when Normandie went on fire and capsized. The conversion work on board had caused a fire to start, and if the New York Fire department had done their job and let the Normandie's crew deal with the fire it would probably have been put out successfully. Unfortunately the fire chief ordered fire hoses to pour vast quantities of water into the ship, with the inevitable consequence that she turned over. Watching all this from Queen Mary at the next Pier were eight former bell boys, aghast at what was happening to a beautiful, if rival, ship. The whole crew were a damn sight more careful about fire after that. ***** I expect you'd like to hear about the carpenters. By this time - it was mid-November - I was based in the galley all day, learning how to keep out of the way while I was instructed in the mammoth task of feeding 10,000 hungry soldiers three good meals a day. Until we left all we had to feed was a much smaller army - a few hundred at most - of shore-based tradesmen, most of them carpenters, who were constructing bunks. They came on board at 0800 and we fed them at 1200 and 1300 in two shifts. The galley area had been converted - virtually the first thing done - into a cafeteria system with us doling out the food as the men came past. It's familiar nowadays, of course, but back then it was new to all of us. Not to the Americans, who lined up to get fed as to the manner born. All eight of us still around had long ago learned what we now call gaydar, and I was enjoying the spectacle each meal-time of hundreds of young men, most of them in their twenties, coming slowly past. I had reached the giddy height of being in charge of ladling gravy onto a plate already filled with everything else. It wasn't particularly difficult work, and it enabled me, as the last crew member before they went off to a table, to make eye contact and smile. Most of them smiled back, and after a few days some of the smiles seemed to contain a hint of 'nice to see you, kid' in them. Any kid in our trade knew how to take this to the next stage, and by the end of the fourth day I had worked out that three of them were worth it, two in the first shift and one in the second. I made up three little notes ready to slip to these three at the next meal. They were all the same, and all very simple. They said 'Fancy getting better acquainted? If so, come back for more gravy'. I also had three more little notes for use if, as I hoped, more gravy was requested. It was now just a question of waiting, ladle at the ready. I tried to note where the three prospects were sitting. They weren't together as they'd been some minutes apart in the queue. I saw where two of them had gone, sitting about 30 feet apart, but I lost sight of the third. Then I saw one of them come into the food queue from the wrong end. "Hey kid!" he said, "this gravy's hot stuff. Can I get some more?" I liked the conjunction of the gravy's being described in those terms with the broad wink he gave me as he uttered those two loaded words. "Sure thing," I said, ladling more onto his plate, "but you might want this too." He took the note in his hand and gave me a big grin. I watched as he went back to his table, but his pals were asking him why he'd gone back, and he had no chance to read my message. Twenty minutes later the tables were almost clear and I had been asked for more gravy once more. Neither of the notes had been read as far as I could tell, but I knew that they would be studied at the first opportunity. I had quarter an hour to help clear up before the second shift. I was asked for seconds of gravy then as well. It was really very simple. Each note had told the reader that if he wanted to get more acquainted he should go to the men's rest room (I had learned to speak American by this time) on Deck 5 where I would meet him. One note specified that this should take place at 1400; one at 1420 and one at 1440. "Don't be late, I've only got 10 minutes" would ensure a prompt arrival. At 1350 I told Ryan I was going to help one of the carpenters. His eyebrows rose, and I winked. "Ah," was all he said. At 1358 I was inside the appointed place standing at the pissing trough, my equipment free for all to see. In came a slim guy of about 23, dark-haired with hazel eyes. He glanced quickly round. "It's OK," I said, "there's only me." I turned to face him and his eyes dropped to my cock. He licked his lips. I took his hand and led him into one of the three cubicles. I knelt down and opened his trousers. He helped me release a large cock, half-hard and cut. "I'm Louis," he whispered. "Patrick." I put my mouth round his cock and gave him the works. I pulled his trousers and underpants down while I sucked and tongued him, and held his heavy balls in my hands. He was moaning and writhing as I brought him closer and closer. "I'm gonna jizz, Pa ..." but he got no further. Instead of me he called upon his Saviour while filling my mouth with a large quantity of hot spunk. As this whole operation was by way of being trailer for the main attraction at a later date, I swallowed, complimenting him on both quantity and quality. I licked him clean and stood up, kissing him briefly. "Well, Louis, how was that?" I asked. "Fucking awesome, Patrick." I do like it when they're really appreciative. "How do you fancy spending the night with me and a few other boys one time? You can fuck us or we'll suck you off. Don't tell me now - give me a note in the gravy queue tomorrow. Now go, before anyone gets suspicious." I pushed him out of the door. It was 1413. I had a few minutes to wait. Duane, a black guy of no more than 19, soon poured a fine quantity of spunk into my mouth from his 10 inches of gloriously uncut manhood. He left me in no doubt that there was nothing he wanted more than to bury those 10 inches into as many white boys as he could. We agreed to exchange messages at the gravy point. Aaron, small - no more than 5'3" - but full of muscles had a nice cut cock which delivered as copiously as either of the others. He told me after he'd finished that his kid brother had given him the best blow jobs ever, but that I was up there alongside. As Aaron was the last I felt I had time to chat as we went back to his work station. During the course of that short walk I learned that Aaron, now 22, had when 15 instructed Josh, then 12, in the arts under discussion, and that Josh had given Aaron every reason to be grateful several times a week ever since. Aaron liked the idea of meeting other like-minded friends of mine. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 110. What actually happened to the two Queens and Normandie is accurate. Although the details have been invented the general plotting is largely true. The outfitting actually took place in Australia, but for fictional purposes I changed it to New York. The details of what was done, and the storage of things no longer needed, are accurate. Queen Mary did visit the Dominions, and later the USA, and carry hundreds of thousands of troops, their equipment and cargo back to Britain. 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. ===============================================================================