Date: Mon, 8 Jul 2019 21:00:12 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 165 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 165 The following night Ade said he wanted to fuck me. I had expected this, given the evident enjoyment he had had fucking Charlie the night before, and I had spent much of the day in a state of excitement. As I have indicated before, Charlie and I have always had a soft spot (not perhaps the most felicitous adjective) for boys of Ade's age, and Ade was a particularly attractive boy. Not only was he bright and outgoing, but he was very sexy and inventive. His desire to learn kitchen things was matched by his desire to continue learning at a physically higher, and morally lower, one. Mind you, none of the three of us felt any restriction from teaching or learning on moral grounds. Ade scored over Kevin (who scored pretty high himself) because he was willing - keen - to be a top as well as a bottom. Men our age are supposed to want their boys to be bottoms, but neither Charlie nor I were so fixed in our ways. Fucking 14- and 15-year-olds was great, but so was being fucked by them. Kevin hadn't been interested; Ade was. So Ade pressed new buttons in that part of our lives. And it was my turn that night. And I had been leaking pre-cum all evening. It was quite like being 15 again, I thought. We'd been quiet that evening, with only half a dozen covers, so Charlie and Ade were finished by just after 2200. "Come on, Patrick, it's your turn," said Ade, not standing on ceremony. Upstairs I decided to let him do all the work, so I got on the bed, still fully clothed, and invited him to get on with it. "Ravish me then, you little tiger." "Grrr," said Ade, entering into the spirit of the thing. He stripped himself, allowing me to perv on his slim smooth body. His cock was hot and hard. There were traces of hair and I decided that he should have attention to remedy that the next day. But tonight I would be putty in his hands. He took off my shirt and nibbled my nipples. I stroked his hair - it was really short. I love the feel if a crew cut as I stroke it, and I love it even more on my thighs as the owner nuzzles my arse. I kicked my shoes off and he undid my belt and eased his hand into my pants. "Bugger me, Patrick, you're sopping in there! Have you been up to no good?" I assured him that the moisture he was detecting had arisen purely in anticipation of the good seeing-to that he was about to give me. "I've been horny for you all evening," I said quietly. I saw Charlie grin. Ade removed his hand and sniffed it. "Mmm, to think I made you do that!" My trousers and pants quickly joined my shirt on the floor. I was now as naked as he was. "I'd better see if you're wet round the back as well ... no ... good," and he set about remedying that. I relaxed as much as you can when a randy 15-year-old is giving your arse a good rimming. I was on my back (I didn't give him any choice) and I pulled my knees up so that he could see what he was doing. "Your arse is smooth, Patrick, like Charlie's, but Larry's was hairy. Who shaves you?" Charlie said that we shaved each other. I took the opportunity to say that he would need to be shaved the next day. "But I like my hairs - I'm very proud of them." "Believe me, you're a lot sexier without them. Why do you think we have boys your age working for us?" said Charlie. I was feeling neglected while Ade and Charlie were chattering, so I wriggled in a manner I hoped would remind Ade of why he was down there. "Sorry," he whispered, adding to himself, "concentrate, Ade." Ade gave me a damn good rimming, his tongue dancing teasingly along my perineum and swirling round my arse lips. Charlie put the lube beside him and nodded, holding up two fingers. Two fingers duly made a tentative entry. I sighed deeply, a sound I hoped Ade would interpret as one of deep happiness, veering towards the suggestion that even deeper would be agreeable. In they duly went. "Feel for my prostate - it's a lump ... aah!" as he found it with ease. "Rub it and see what happens." "He wants you to look at his cock," said Charlie helpfully. My cock lurched, as Charlie had known that it would, and a large drop of precum oozed out. "Did I do that?" "Mmm." He did it again. "I think he's ready," said Charlie. "How do you know?" "We'll tell you later, but right now I need to feel your hard cock deep up my arse, Ade, I need you to fuck me and make me cum with the feeling of your cock as it possesses me." That ought to do it, I thought. It did. Ade has fucked me hundreds of times since that first time in April 1968, but that first time was something we'd both remember. To his astonishment and delight he lasted nearly five minutes. To my astonishment and delight the energy and unrestrained rutting of a boy his age was incredibly erotic. I'd been fucked a million times by boys his age and not much older, but Ade brought something extra - something I couldn't put my finger on - to the bedroom. I knew as he was busy that sex with Ade would be even better than sex with Kevin had been. (When Charlie and I discussed this the next day while Ade was doing something in the kitchen he told me that the same feeling had occurred to him in much the same circumstances. We would be a happy band of brothers.) At last Ade reached his climax. "Oh fuck, Patrick, here it is, I'm ... aaah!" and I felt him push another inch in as his cock swelled and filled my arse with red hot boy-spunk. "God, you're so hot, Ade," I moaned. I hadn't come - he hadn't learnt how to bring that about yet - so I had a quick 30 seconds or so before I wanked a fine few lines onto my chest. Ade, still up inside, sweating profusely, leant forward to lick. As he did so his cock popped out, soft and wet. Instinctively he knew to scoot round so that he could still lick my cum and I could suck his cock. Five minutes later we were both clean and exhausted. "I like it here," he murmured happily. ***** One morning in May 1975, among the post was a letter addressed to Tearlach MacCoinnich. The address was right, but the name meant nothing. I looked at the postmark - Inverness. Charlie's neck of the woods, I thought. I called him. "Do we know anyone called Tier Lak?" (that's how I pronounced it). A roar of laughter came from the kitchen and Charlie came bounding in. "Let me see." When he had seen the envelope he said, "you've only been living with him for nearly 40 years. That's me - that's my Gaelic name. You've been pronouncing it right ever since you met me - Charlie. The surname's too hard for you to get your tiny English brain round, but to you lot it's MacKenzie. Who on earth knows I live here?" He opened it carefully, read the first few words, and sat down. He had a serious face as he read the rest. "It's from my brother," he said quietly. I was staggered - I had no idea he had a brother. Living with him and being as close as we had been since 1936 I had no idea. Tim and I had told the other bell boys a bit about our evil family in Liverpool, but Charlie had never mentioned a family. No, that's not quite true: he had told me that his father had been a deeply religious man who had beaten Charlie when he caught him wanking. Apart from that his parents had never been mentioned - not once. And now here was a brother. "What does he say? How did he know where you were?" "Our mother died two days ago. He wanted me to know. He says he wants us to forgive each other." "What for?" "It's a long story, love." "Charlie, I don't care how long it is, you have to tell me. Ade can cope with lunch." "Yes, of course. I'll go and tell him." Ade was now 22 and a permanent feature in our lives. Charlie's story was utterly unexpected. The whipping he had received from his father decided Charlie that he wanted as little to do with such a bullying parent as possible. He was 15 when it happened and although he had been completely innocent about sex and sin generally he was rebellious enough to resent his father, and to resent deeply the pain and indignity of being whipped. "In the eight months between that day and the day I finally left Durness to go to Liverpool I don't think I exchanged more than 20 words with my father." "What about your mother? Didn't she sense something was wrong?" "Of course she did, but my father was God in that house, or at least he behaved as though he was. My poor wee mother was helpless to do anything. Angus - my brother - was four years older and by then he was away from home on the fishing boat. We weren't all that close - I was a wee pest in his eyes - but he always stuck up for me. If he'd been as thoughtful or wicked as you were and taught me about wanking things might have been different." Charlie," I said quietly, "if you had known as much about wanking as Tim and I did I would never have seen you as a challenge. Who'd have run your wine cellar then, eh?" He smiled. "Yes. You're right. Anyway, this letter. I left Durness without a backward glance, although I was sad to leave my mother. Angus was at sea that week, so I never said goodbye to him. When you and I decided how we felt about each other I didn't tell anyone - the sky would have fallen in and goodness knows what would have been done to get me out of the sink of sodomy that I was in. It wasn't until the start of the War that I wrote to my mother to tell her what I was doing. I told her about you, and made it clear in my letter than she was not to tell my father." "What did you tell her?" "Everything. Well, not in detail, but I told her that I loved her and now I loved someone I wanted to spend my life with. If it hurt her to know I loved another man that was too bad, but I hoped that if she loved me she would try to understand." "What happened?" "Nothing. Not a squeak - no letter - nothing. I wrote to her every year I could on her birthday but still nothing ever. Not even something at the end of the War to say she was glad I had come through all right. This letter from Angus is the first contact anyone has made with me since 1936." He was silent, the letter in his lap. Gently I took it from him. "Dear Tearlach "I write to tell you that our mother died today. She had been ill for many months and God showed mercy on her at last. She joins our father in Heaven. "I hope we can forgive each other at this time of great sorrow. I have been a poor brother to you in the long years since you left us, and every day I regret not having stood up to our father on your behalf. He was a hard man, and he died unforgiving. Please forgive me. "When Mother was dying she asked me to fetch some letters from her bedside drawer. There were a great number, all unopened. She begged me to burn them. I didn't, though I told her I had - her need to be comforted was very great. I didn't burn them because I recognized your writing. The postmarks showed that they were posted every year for her birthday, with only the War years missing. None of us knew what you were doing in the War, and at least the envelopes showed that you have survived. Only Mother knew - she never told us. You were never mentioned - it was as though you had never been. "I opened some of the letters after she died. My first thought was horror at the sinful life you were leading, living with another man in sodomy. As I read more and more I quickly came to know that you and your Patrick were truly in love, and that God was blessing you for your compassion for each other. For several minutes today I hated you for your wickedness, but I now know my hatred was put there by Satan. Please, Tearlach, forgive me. Come to Durness to bury our mother. Bring your Patrick. I need him to forgive me too. "Tearlach, little brother, I need you. I love you. "Your brother, Aonghas" I was stunned. "We have to go." Charlie nodded. "Today," I added. He nodded again. I went into the kitchen. "Ade, when you have a minute, come into the office. Soon as you can." "Three minutes, Patrick." When he came in, anxious lest there was something wrong, I explained that Charlie's mother had died and that we'd be going to the funeral. He went to Charlie and put his arms round him. Charlie patted his arm. "We'll cancel everything from tomorrow, but we can't cancel tonight. Luckily there's only four covers. If we get the Sleeper tonight we'll leave at 6 and everything will be ready. Can you cope?" "Of course I can, Patrick. If you like I can keep the place open while you're away too. How about I offer a table d'hote menu, say just two of each course plus cheese? Would that work?" Charlie's smile returned. "Yes, if you think you can manage, Ade. It sounds a good idea, and provided the place doesn't burn down you'll learn a lot in a week. Why not start the table d'hote tonight, and whatever's ready for the a la carte can be the table d'hote tomorrow?" I said that Charlie ought to phone Angus to find out when the funeral is. "Tell him we'll be in Inverness on the Sleeper tomorrow morning. We'll have to hire a car. Leave that to me. You talk to Angus, then I'll book the Sleeper and fix up a car. You and Ade can sort things out while I do that." Ade went back to the kitchen - his kitchen - and I left Charlie to make his phone call. I think he was dreading it. I busied myself packing a case while the two of them did what they had to do. This was not going to be a visit which looked like being stress-free, but I knew I had to support Charlie. How would Angus and his wife react to real live sodomites in their home? How would a very lapsed lapsed Catholic react to Calvinists red in tooth and claw? =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 166 as the funeral takes place and life continues, as it always does. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real, as are the details of the final voyage. I first saw the boys 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 them 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. =============================================================================