Date: Thu, 1 Feb 2018 15:43:45 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 16 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 16 Roger was too far gone in a half-tight sexual haze to hesitate. Alan knelt with his arse invitingly displayed. "Come on, Roger, fuck me. I want to feel your cock in my arse." We knew that as soon as Roger's cock found its mark he wouldn't be able to hold back: his primitive urge to bury his cock in a nice hot wet welcoming place would be too much. Who cared what sex the nice hot wet welcoming place was? Roger's cock certainly didn't. In it went, hard, fast, all the way. When he was as deep as he could go Roger gave a great sigh, almost as though he'd spent his whole life building up to this moment. "Ah! it's so big," murmured Alan, "it's really stretching my arse. I love it. Now fuck me, fuck me hard, Roger." Roger didn't need much encouragement. He began, as all virgin fuckers do, to fuck as fast as he could. Alan wasn't going to object - being fucked really fast is fun sometimes - and he knew that Roger wouldn't last more than 20 seconds or so. "Oh fuck! here it ... aaaaaah! fuckfuckfuck!" and Roger plunged into Alan emptying his balls in spurt after spurt. I told him, "that was something, Roger. I bet your spunk went right up to his stomach." While this was biologically rather a long way it seemed the kind of thing which would cement Roger's confidence. I didn't think he needed to be told, however. Roger's cock slipped from Alan's arse and was immediately cleaned by Sam's hungry mouth. It was good to see Cabin 2 bonding in this new way. It was possible that Sam's lips would be performing the same service in a day or two without the need for champagne to get things going. I hoped so anyway. It would be up to Sam and Peter to take the lead, but Roger's pleasure in having his cock sucked meant that he would probably take readily to more adventurous sex than merely wanking in future. We needed a rest, and soon polished off the fruit tarts. The champagne was certainly having an effect in keeping us horny. We were all fully erect and groping of the nearest cock was going on continuously. I felt I needed to show the others how I felt about Tim, so I took his face in my hands and gave him a big loving kiss. "I love you," I said, looking into his eyes. "And I love you too," he said, "now make love to me." I decided we'd show these guys what fucking really looked like. I got on my back on my bed and Tim climbed on, squatting over me with his arse over my cock. We'd done this about three million times before, but it never palled. It was just as often the other way round, so it was only one and a half million times I'd fucked him this way. When they saw what we were doing Sam and Peter decided they would try to copy us. Peter was on his back on Tim's bed and Sam was hovering over him. "Help Sam get it in, Roger," I said, "it isn't easy to see the first time. I didn't know whether Roger would co-operate, but his hand was on Sam's cock in no time, and he guided it to its target without hesitating. Alan smiled to himself - he was on our wavelength all right. Roger was turning into a happy little queer boy, just like the rest of us. "How about I fuck you, Rog?" whispered Alan, "there's got to be a first time, and you'll never feel more like it than you do now. Look at these guys - they're loving it!" But Roger wasn't ready to be fucked - he'd reached his limit. "No," he said, "I don't want it." Alan was disappointed, but he knew he couldn't show it. "OK," he said, "that's fine. Don't worry about it." Roger's unwillingness to be fucked, however, did not signal the end of his interest in watching distinctly queer goings-on on my bed. He whispered to Alan, "do they really do that a lot?" "Oh yes. They told me they started doing each other when they were about 10 - it was years before they could shoot." "Wow! I wish I had a twin brother," said Roger. "But if you did he'd probably have been fucking you since you were 10." "No chance, but I'd have been fucking him." A strange idea of twin-ness, but then he wasn't lucky like us. While all this was going on Tim had lowered himself onto my cock, and when I was right inside he leaned forward and we kissed deeply and lovingly. He broke off to tell me that he really, really needed to be fucked long and slow by the person he loved most in the world. Since that person's cock was already well and truly embedded I just smiled and began to do as he asked. He raised himself so that his back was arched - a position which meant that his prostate was being rubbed hard by every inward stroke I made. "Oh fuck, Patrick, you are magic." I turned my head to see where Sam and Peter had got to. I made eye contact with Sam who winked. Peter wasn't as good at holding back as we were, and I could tell from his ragged breath that he wasn't going to last much longer. Sam reached forward to Peter's chest and squeezed his nipples. It was clear that this was something they'd done before, because Peter's immediate reaction was to raise his hips sharply, to force his cock deep inside Sam's arse, to cry to the heavens that he was coming, and to do so ... and again ... and again. "Oh fuck, Peter, you gorgeous thing, you've filled me up," moaned Sam, already wanking himself furiously. Peter was still inside him when Sam's cock spurted onto his belly. When he'd stopped he fell forwards onto Peter's body, the cum squelching between them. As Peter's cock softened and slipped out, his cum rolled back onto his balls, adding to the warm mess. Roger had watched all this fascinated. His cock was hard, so his brain didn't regard watching boys fucking as being sufficiently queer that he needed to be prissy about it. It was hard to know where he felt he belonged. Tim was warming up nicely. He looked over to his bed, where Sam and Peter were whacked. "Sam," he said, "come over and help. Get on the bed behind me and get as many fingers up my arse as you can." Sam dived over, eager to experience something new. Until tonight, as far as we knew, he and Peter had done nothing more advanced than suck each other's cocks. Arses were new and so far unexplored territory. Sam got into position while my fucking continued. "Stick two fingers in," said Tim, "it's greased so you won't hurt." Sam obeyed. "Mmm, that's nice. Now put another one in and see what you can find up there." Sam hesitated - what would be up there? "Don't worry, there's no shit. Go for it." When Sam pushed a third finger in and moved them around he found something new. "What's that lump? You said there wasn't any shit." I explained about prostates and how they had a magic effect when rubbed. "Rub it, Sam," I said, and see what Tim does. I knew, of course. This would be an eye-opener. Sam pushed his finger up against the lump and rubbed vigorously. Tim shot upright (he had bent forward while fingers were inserted), cried out, and threw his arms apart. His cock poured a ribbon of cum onto me, the first spurt almost reaching my chin. Sam was astonished. "Did I do that?" Tim was in no state to answer, so it was left to Alan to fill in the details. "You should try it on yourself, Sam, or better still, get Peter to try on you." Roger was tactfully excluded from this line of experimentation. Meanwhile I was fucking a spent Tim. I knew that he wouldn't have a problem with being fucked so soon after coming, but it seemed right to finish quickly. I speeded up. Tim, knowing the routine, clenched his arse muscles, "come on, Patrick, fill me up," and suddenly I knew I was only a few seconds away. "Get off," I cried, "I want to cum on you." He lifted off and I wanked myself for the last few seconds. My cum flew out and hit him just above his cock. As it was still shooting onto him he gathered it in both hands and smeared it onto his cock and balls. The spectacle was greeted with approval, even Roger allowing that he had never seen anything quite like it. A few minutes later, after we'd calmed down and Tim and I had cleaned each other's cocks, we were all lying in pairs. Tim was with Peter, Sam was with me, and Roger was on Alan's bed. It was time to see how much further things could go. Roger was the weakest link, so I tackled him first. "How was that, then, Roger?" I asked. "Did you like what you saw?" "Yeah, it was great to watch, but I wouldn't want to be fucked. I liked fucking, and I came loads, but fucking another boy's arse is like what I think fucking a girl must be. Your cock's in a nice warm tunnel, and it feels great. I've watched you guys, and if you like doing queer things that's OK by me, but I still don't want to be fucked." That was clear enough. "That's fine, Roger, you're not queer like the rest of us. We can still be friends though, can't we?" Roger agreed, adding that he was very happy to remain what he called 'wank friends'. How naive, I thought. Still, we now knew that he was not going to join Sir's performing boys. I was wondering how we could get rid of him when he solved the problem for me. "I'm whacked," he said, "do you mind if I go to bed?" General murmurs of agreement allowed him to leave, happily satisfied, but not fucked, after an evening's merriment. When he'd gone it was time to take the next step. "Sir knows about our party here tonight," I told them. "He fixed the treat for the other cabins so that we could have peace to play. You can stay all night if you want, as long as we're all on parade as ordered." Sam and Peter were surprised by Sir's complicity. "Did he really know what we were going to get up to?" asked Peter. I realised I might have gone too far too soon. "No, not in detail," I said, "just that we wanted to get together with three other bell boys for some fun." Peter was dubious, but didn't press me. "And did he know about the food?" asked Sam. "Yes, but not the drink. I fixed it with one of the chefs - a very sexy man called Ryan." I paused. "So sexy, in fact, that I've agreed to let him fuck me in the next day or two." I let that lie too. "I like being fucked by men, and so do Tim and Alan." A productive silence ensued. Tim broke it after about half a minute. "Yeah, I love it; there's nothing like a big cock squirting man's cum up my arse to get me really hot." I hadn't heard him express it in quite that way before, but it encapsulated how we both feel pretty nicely. "You should try it," he added. Sam's eyes lit up. "Yeah. Would this Ryan be fun to meet, do you think?" I said that I was sure of it, and would Sam like me to see what I could do. Sam indicated that that would be agreeable. And Peter? He wasn't so sure, he said, and would await Sam's report. And that is where the matter was left for the moment. "Are you staying, 'cos if you are you'll need to choose which bed," said the ever practical Alan. "It really depends whether you prefer a 16-year-old or a mere 14-year-old." Was there a trace of wistfulness in Alan's voice? Was he frightened of being left behind as being too old? Sam and Peter exchanged looks. Peter announced that they both needed to piss and that an announcement would be made on their return. As they moved to put trousers on I said that the other lot wouldn't be back until 2300, and that since it was still well before then trousers would not be needed. "OK," and off they went. "What do you think?" asked Alan. "Not sure, but I reckon we'll know before we get back to Southampton," I said. Once Ryan gets inside Sam's trousers ... " - "and his arse," added Tim unnecessarily, " ... we'll have a much better idea. I'm not sure about Peter though. We don't want to let him know anything about us until we know he's willing to join." The other two agreed. Just then Sam and Peter came back. Peter said, "we looked in at Roger. He's fine. You mustn't worry about him going on about not being queer. He doesn't mind us being queer, as he puts it, and he's certainly not complaining about fucking you guys." That was good to hear. Peter sat on Alan's bed. "I want a man," he said. This was greeted with guffaws from the rest if us. Sam's choice was better from the Mulloy point of view. "I want a boy, but one won't be enough to satisfy my lust, so I'll need two boys." Arranging this comfortably would depend of whether our beds could be shifted: were they bolted to the floor ... no! Very soon a makeshift double bed was in position. Alan went off for a piss. Tim and I would much rather have dealt with our piss in a more intimate manner, but again this was a step - several steps perhaps - beyond where we had found ourselves with Cabin 2. We joined Alan. "It's going well," he said. We agreed. As had been said about another ship in much the same place 24 years earlier, it would be a night to remember. It was 2245. We had eaten a large illicit meal and drunk more illicit alcohol that any of us had had before, and the inevitable consequence of both was that we fell asleep not long after getting into our various beds. It would be nice to report that we passed a night of energetic, varied and profoundly satisfied sexual activities, but it would, alas, be untrue. The two of them in the other bed cuddled closely and, for all I know, enjoyed some degree of cock contact before gentle snoring wafted across the room. "Aah!" said Sam, ever the romantic. He was in the middle, over the join between the beds, but snuggled between two horny - yes, we were, and demonstrably so - 14-year-olds. Tim whispered in Sam's ear, "what shall we do?" Sam reached two hands down - we were all lying on our backs - and took a cock in each. Naturally we reached for him, and Tim beat me to it by a millionth of a second. Even though the three of us had spent the last couple of hours in much more strenuous goings-on, or perhaps because of it, just holding a cock, and having yours held, was deeply satisfying. So deeply that the soft snoring soon came from our beds as well. My last conscious thought was that if Charlie had been here it would have been even better. The other lot were obedient to Sir's injunction not to disturb us when they got back, so we heard nothing until Sir's morning door knock. He tactfully knocked on our door first, and put his head in to say, "five minutes before I knock on the others." We were still wound round each other, and spent three of those precious five minutes enjoying the warm boy next to us. There wasn't time to do anything beyond cuddling, but by the time we were all in the showers there was a universal acceptance that we should repeat the overnight visit as soon as we could. I wondered how I would sell this variation in practice to Sir, but I was sure I could swing it somehow. At 0700, as Sir had ordered, we were all at the Purser's office. Naturally we were excited about being in New York. Sir appeared and told us that we could go up on deck to see the sights, but we had to be back on station in 20 minutes. You never saw the Queen Mary bell boys move faster! None of us really had any idea of what America looked like, nor would we, given that we never actually got to go ashore, and I don't think we were expecting red Indians, but your first sight of the Statue of Liberty isn't something you ever forget. We would see her dozens of times, but never again with fresh eyes. When we got back down to the Purser's office there were 12 very excited teenagers ready to do all the fetching and carrying anyone could ask for. As we would all be off duty from 1030 until 1300, with the run of the ship, it seemed a good time for Alan to see where he could get with Harry, and for Tim with Stewart. We didn't know how long Sir would keep us at 1100, but the two of them probably had an hour at least. By 1100 the passengers were all away and the army of stewards were preparing the rooms for the voyage back. We were about the only crew members with nothing to do. The familiar 'come' greeted us, only this time when we were in it was followed by 'sit down'. This was a first. "How is your back, Alan?" Alan's back was still sore, but less than it had been. It had not interfered with his sleeping. (Stifled giggles.). "I won't ask about the sleeping arrangements yesterday - I saw that you lost Roger though." I reported that the sleeping arrangements had been nice; that the evening had been very nice; that the catering arrangements had been generous: that the absence if Cabins 3 and 4 had made everything go smoothly. "Thank you, Sir." The other two thanked him as well, Alan adding that he was glad that Sir had been so keen to go along with my plan. "I want the three of you to enjoy yourselves, and not just with clients. Apart from the nasty experience yesterday I think it all went smoothly. Were any of you unhappy?" Three shaken heads. "You'll be amused that there was a huge fuss with those two men, by the way. They stupidly lost their passports, so when they were finally allowed off the ship they were met by two very burly US immigration policemen. They were furious at first, blaming each other, but by the time they were taken off their rage had turned to alarm." "What will happen?" asked Alan. "I've no idea, but they won't be allowed to stay here. I imagine they'll be put on the next ship home." This was alarming - we didn't want them around - but Sir, seeing Alan's face, said that it wouldn't be on this ship. "The British consul will take a day or two to sort it out. They'll be on some small cargo ship, I expect." Much as I would have liked to show some awareness of the predicament in which Alan's torturers now found themselves, I maintained a diplomatic silence, and not even the hint of a smile appeared on my lips. Sir then destroyed my facade. "I do not approve of my boys stealing passports," he said. I blushed. Sir smiled. "But well done! I need not know how." No more was said on the subject. "I'm going to make some changes, but not until we arrive back in Southampton. There may well be other things which haven't cropped up yet, and I don't wish to keep on altering things. Patrick has made several suggestions, and I want to hear of any others which any of you think would make things more efficient. Don't feel shy about telling me." I was conscious of a few things I'd like to see him change, but this wasn't the time to tell him - or was it? Maybe if I said what was on my mind the other two might have ideas too. "Is it possible to change to cabin arrangement?" I said. "Not now, but when we've discovered more about whether any of the others are to join our group. Some of them are definitely hot interested - Dave, Chris and Roger certainly aren't. We haven't found out about the others yet, although, as you know, some are certainly up for sex with us. We all feel that by the time we reach Southampton we will have a good idea about them. If our group are all in two cabins, if there end up being six of us, life will be a lot easier." Sir agreed. "In fact I plan to get rid of some of your colleagues, not off the ship but onto other duties. I will present the idea as promotion, so don't be alarmed that you're getting passed over. It's not that at all." Alan and Tim were as pleased about this as I was, and doubtless those 'promoted' would be happy too. I raised another thing which was bothering me, although it hadn't been a problem yet. "All of the clients have been happy to use their own stateroom, but when we started you thought that any married ones would have to come down here. It won't work, Sir, the room isn't right for fucking, and if any of them are like Slim and into piss it's impossible. Is there a way you can set aside a room which we could use?" "I don't think it would be easy," said Sir. "Cunard want to sell every stateroom there is - that's what they're in business to do." Alan asked, "isn't there some spare crew accommodation we could use? A passenger who wants to fuck boys isn't going to mind going into a less smart part of the ship." Sir thought about it. "You have a point, Alan. It's another thing for me to think about. Are there any more bright ideas?" I had one more, and it was one which Sir and I had mentioned in one of our earlier talks, but which wasn't ever settled. "What about other crew members? I know you don't mind us getting it on with them, but you said you might let some of them know about our being available for passengers in case they were asked." "It's a difficult area, Patrick. The fewer crew members know about a boy-ring, the safer for all of us. After all, there have been enough clients on the way across to keep you all happy. I don't mind you having assignments with the crew, but you are not, any of you, to mention our arrangement. If I decide to let one or two of them know it will be my decision, and I will let you know. Now I have work to do. Off you go and enjoy yourselves." We went up on deck to have our first proper view of Manhattan. We stared at the skyscrapers, amazed at the sheer size of everything. The river was a mass of small craft all packed with sightseers catching a first glimpse of Queen Mary. For boys like us it was an incredible spectacle, and one which, seeing it a hundred times in the next few years, never palled. Alan spotted Harry and the two of them went off somewhere. Tim looked for Stewart, but he was nowhere to be seen. At 1300 we were back on duty at the Purser's office in preparation for the next lot of passengers. A routine was beginning to become established. I wondered what we might get up to on the eastward crossing. More clients, no doubt, and more fun with Andrew and Charlie. Sam and Peter were likely to be visitors again. I had promised to reward Ryan, and I wanted to thanks Gus too. Mustn't forget Phil either. I smiled to myself - it was going to be a busy voyage. What would Sir have to say to us all? =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 17 as we set off homewards. 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. ===============================================================================