Date: Wed, 15 May 2019 11:04:47 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 149 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 149 It got hotter and hotter as Queen Mary made her way towards the Equator and the South Atlantic. She was always a hot ship, and her designers back in the 1930s had not thought it necessary to do anything about keeping her cool: after all, she was only ever going to cross the North Atlantic, famous for never being terribly torrid. By the time 1967 arrived Cunard had had some difficulty in selling all the spaces, simply because of the fact that most of the days would be in tropical weather. That didn't bother us too much - we were well aware of how hot she was during our War service - but a lot of the VIP passengers were unhappy. It was hot in our Staterooms as well. Felix and Colin moved in - kit and all - to 721. It was a bit of a squash, but none of us was complaining. Apart from the odd 'now and again' they would stay there until we landed. In practice 'now and again' turned out to be about every fourth or fifth night. At lunch Tim would announce that Colin would be welcome to spend the night there. "Can we spare him, Charlie?" I asked on the first occasion. Charlie affected to think. "We can certainly spare him, but after the marathon session you had with him last night I don't think he'll be any use to anybody for a week." "I'll take that as a 'yes'," said Tim. Colin was one of the two boys waiting on us the first time this happened, and he had difficulty keeping a straight face. "Is there something you want to say, Colin?" I asked. "Yes, Patrick." "Is that it?" "Maybe I should have said 'yes, Tim'." Nights with Felix and Colin were always a joy - because they were relatively new to us, and we to them, there was always an air of novelty: what might they - we - get up to next? Don't misunderstand me - sex with those with whom we slept routinely was always good too, but, let's face it, new cocks, new arses, new mouth and new inventive minds always added something extra, at least until the newness had worn off. And when the new body had gone away there added something tended to stay. Charlie had once remarked, after one of our temporary kitchen boys (well before Robert) had left, that his bedtime performance had rejuvenated the pair of us (then in our later 30s). So Felix and Colin would be the rejuvenation that would, now we were in our late 40s, spice things up well beyond our arrival in California. The first night was one of added excitement as the Captain had announced the whole King Neptune performance for the following day. Charlie and I smiled happily at the memory of our first Crossing the Line when two twin mermaids had dumped us into the Deck 9 pool at Will's feet. We resolved to be tight-lipped about the fate awaiting our two companions the next day. Tight-lipped about that but not, happily, about other matters. It turned out that none of the six of them had been south of the Equator, so none of them had a clue. I wondered who would be pressed into royal duty. As you'd expect it was suffocatingly hot that night. The four of us were naked, as usual, from the moment the Stateroom door was shut at around 2200. The days of sitting in a bar swigging beer were long behind us - beer was available in our room and it was beautifully cold. Cold beer has this interesting quality that it seems to increase in volume as it passes through the body, especially the body of boys as desirable (and imaginative) as Felix and Colin. "I think," I said to no-one in particular, "that this is the night we move a stage further in our nocturnal playing." "You want to piss on us," said Colin with a broad grin. "No," said Charlie, "well, yes, but it's not all he wants, or what I want either." Felix rose to get another four beers from the fridge. "God knows why it's taken over a week to get to where all four of us want to be," he said, "but we'll all enjoy it a bloody sight more if we're all bursting, won't we?" No reply was needed: the ready acceptance of a third bottle of beer spoke volumes. 20 minutes later found us all crowded into the bathroom. When Slim had pissed on me in that very spot over 30 years before he had done so in a small shower. When the major refit had been done after the War the small showers had been ripped out and decent-sized ones fitted, more suitable for the purposes upon which we were about to engage. It was still a squash for four, but since being close - very close - together was really the point all went ... swimmingly. There was a great outpouring of ex-beer up and down the four of us, but there wasn't room for anyone to kneel for whatever purpose he might choose to do so. "Room for two only," said Charlie, luckily while we all still had plenty of beer aboard. Felix and I were the two nearest the door, so we stepped out and stood dripping on the tile floor. Charlie knelt and took Colin's cock between his lips. Colin managed to start again after only a few seconds - evidence that here was a boy entirely accustomed to delivering in this manner. I was waiting patiently for it to be our turn to occupy the shower when Felix knelt. "As I'm going to swallow the lot why don't we just do it out here?" I smiled. Here was a boy with limits as far apart as Tim's. Ten minutes later much of the beer had found a temporary second home. It took only a minute or two to swab the tile floor, although I knew it would need to be done again in an hour or so. We would have to find a more efficient way of keeping our quarters sweet and welcoming. When we got into bed Felix, cuddled next to me with Colin and Charlie on his other side, murmured that Eddie had told the five of them about his fisting lesson. "It sounded exciting, Patrick. Can we do that? Will you show us?" Music to an old man's ears, I thought. "How much did he tell you?" "Just that you and Charlie had taught him what to do. Why?" "Has he done it to any of the rest of you?" I asked. "No, we were only talking about it a few days ago. Colin and I are keen to learn, that's one of the reasons we're happy that you chose us," he whispered, feeling one of the other reasons (as I was feeling his). I smiled. "Your wishes may come true," I whispered before gently kissing the tip of his nose. This led him to put both arms round me and look straight into my eyes. "You're really something, Patrick, you and Charlie. I hope I find someone one day." "I'm sure you will," I said, kissing that sexy little nose again, "just wait quietly and when you're not expecting it, it'll happen." Something was happening down below, something all too familiar and always welcome. I was about to reach down but Felix beat me to it. There were no bedclothes in sight - it was far too hot - so his turning to 69 with me was visible to the other two. Colin immediately squirmed round to do for Charlie what Felix was about to do for me. ***** King Neptune's fun and games took place where they had done 26 years earlier. The two former mermaids were now mere audience members, but - as had happened all those years ago - Will and Sam had kept their participation secret. It was a matter of some satisfaction to them both, they told us afterwards, that their costumes had fitted them no less well than they had done in 1941. Tim and I, however, as the honorary mermaids for Queen Mary's final voyage, had special uniforms made for us. As it would have been hard for either of us, slim and sexy as we undoubtedly still were, to emulate mermaidy locomotion it had been decided at a high-level royal meeting in Will's cabin several days before that, on this one occasion, His Majesty would be accompanied by a pair of walruses. Walruses we reckoned we could do, especially walruses with feet. Walrus uniforms were duly fashioned, with splendidly fierce tusks dangling from our jaws. My fellow walrus observed that oral sex from a walrus would be a hazardous undertaking. "But only if you haven't slipped into something more comfortable," pointed out King Neptune's Herald. We all hoped that none of King Neptune's victims would notice that walruses rarely venture quite as far south as the Equator. As we had over 1000 passengers (and almost as many crew) on board there was an expectation that King Neptune might have a busy day ahead of him. Another high-level discussion had taken place, acknowledging that many of the potential victims were elderly, that baptism might on this occasion by done by proxy. It wasn't hard to find six immediate volunteers and, when a notice asking for volunteers from among the passengers produced several more we finally had 24 to deal with at the ceremony. Charlie arranged to meet them all that morning to advise them of the niceties of court dress for King Neptune. "Be at the pool at the stern of Deck 9 at 1125," he said solemnly, "you may wear only one garment, so choose it with respect and dignity." An attractive (not that Charlie found her so, but we'll be generous) young woman of about 19 inquired whether His Majesty might allow her to wear a second item of clothing, and Charlie graciously gave permission. All the other takers were male, or - where female - of an age where a single item provided all the decorum required. At 1125 one bikini-clad 19-year-old and one 10-year-old female, accompanied by our six companions and 16 other assorted males (ranging from about 8 to well over 50) were hovering by the pool uncertain of what to do. Charlie fussed about like a mother hen, getting them into some sort of order. Wisely he decided to get the two females and the older men at the front of the queue. A substantial audience had begun to build up to witness whatever was going to happen. Many witnesses had wisely brought along alcoholic refreshment to add to their enjoyment. It was absolutely baking, with hardly a breath of wind. The throne awaited, on this occasion much more richly decorated than when it had appeared in 1941. Wartime shortages were well and truly over. At 1130 a procession appeared, with suitably martial music coming from the loudspeakers. The throng of spectators parted, allowing the four of us plenty of room. Walrus costumes need plenty of space, otherwise you trip. The Herald advised all present that King Neptune's Court was now assembled and due homage was expected. Had it not been so blisteringly hot a shiver would have run round the almost-naked victims, but it was too hot for running. "Come forth," cried Sam (for it was he) from within his seaweedy beard. As Charlie had lined them up in pairs (the ceremony would be fun, but so was the prospect of cocktails afterwards, so getting through it reasonably briskly made sense) the two girls stepped forward. Will sat himself down with much attention to the draping of his watery integuments, assisted on either side - not without difficulty - by two walruses. His Majesty, satisfied that he was settled, waved a hand, dismissing the walruses to the other side of the pool where the two girls were waiting patiently. As you can imagine, this all took time. "Bow before His Majesty," cried Sam and when they bowed Tim and I tipped them in. Girlish screams rent the air. There's always the risk at dos of this kind that one of the early victims, on being immersed, will utter language familiar to Will and the walruses if not to the quality. It was for this reason that the girls led the way. In 1967 19-year-old girls hadn't yet learned to say 'fuck'. Not in public anyway. They survived the ordeal, not without much spluttering, and were helped out by Charlie. At least the rest of them knew what was going to happen. We proceeded through the rest of them. I noticed that Charlie - devious wicked Charlie - had left Felix and Colin to the end. As they were the last two he stood between them, taking each by the hand and drawing them forward. "O King," he cried, "I bring the last two of your new subjects. See how they quiver in terror before you." There had been no rehearsal, but Felix and Colin both quivered fetchingly. Charlie's grip tightened. "As they are here on behalf of many others, Sire, they beg mercy greater than the mercies you have bestowed on the others who have gone before." Get on with it, Charlie, I thought. It was bloody hot being a walrus. But there was more to come. "They bring the Kiss of Peace," said Charlie, delivering the said benediction himself, lip on lip, to Felix and to Colin. They were as startled as the rest of us (I can speak only for the walruses) and - thank God - made no osculatory response. I hoped that if Charlie's action was as the result of a bet he - we - would be well in pocket. "Go now," he said. The stepped forward. We heaved them in. Applause broke out. King Neptune rose and, preceded by his Herald and followed by two sweltering walruses, swept (perhaps too vigorous a verb) out. Cocktails were served. As soon as they were out of sight King, Herald and walruses struggled out of their portable sauna baths. Beer was served. "Who put Charlie up to that?" I asked. The Herald smiled. "Who do you think?" One walrus and the last two victims had a splendid time later. Charlie brandished a $20 bill. "Worth every red cent," he said happily. There was osculatory response a-plenty that night. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 150 as the voyage, and our explorations of sex with our new companions, continue. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I first saw them 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 the boys 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. =============================================================================