Date: Fri, 2 Mar 2018 20:05:47 +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 27 I managed to remember my manners, and why I was there. "Hello, Zizi," I said, moving towards the reason for my being there, "I'm Patrick." "Hello, Patrick," said a soft voice, "Uncle Heinz says you're going to play with me. Would you take off my clothes please." Oh well, Patrick, you've been a virgin in this part of the playground for over 14 years, and you might as well get it over with. Suddenly it didn't seem so tricky - if Zizi wanted to fucked in the manner to which I was accustomed - up the arse - I might get away with a lack of technique. But if it was in ... well, I'd find out soon enough. Zizi's dress buttoned up the back, so I approached from that direction. I had to acknowledge that Zizi looked pretty good from behind - slim hips, nice arse - and I began to undo the buttons. As I did Zizi wriggled and the dress - some very flimsy material, quite sexy really - slipped down. Good, I thought, no sign of a bra. Zizi's tits hadn't grown yet (unlike Brunnhilde's). One big wriggle and the dress fell to Zizi's feet, which were lifted clear and the dress kicked to one side. Zizi was now standing before me, clad only in little lacy panties. It was now or never. I ran the tip of my index finger down the vertebrae in Zizi's back. "Oooh!" whispered Zizi, "that's so nice, Patrick, do it again." I did, only this time I used two fingers, and when I did it a third time the two fingers dipped inside the top of Zizi's lacy panties. The fourth time they went to the top of Zizi's arse crack, and all the time Zizi didn't move. Oh well, this is it, I thought. Next time a hand went down inside those lacy panties, spreading Zizi's nice arse cheeks, and a finger gently touched the target. Zizi shot round as though struck by a bolt of lightning. "Oh, Patrick, I can't wait." Nor could I when I saw the outline of Zizi's cock straining against his panties. I was so overcome with relief that I picked him up in my arms, carried him to the bed, whipped the panties off him, took his cock (a nice 6 inches on an utterly hairless body) into my mouth and furiously tongued him to a very satisfying climax. He came very vocally, but he didn't produce any spunk. As he recovered he smiled. "I hope you didn't mind the panties," he said, "Uncle Heinz makes me wear them. I think it makes him hard so he can fuck me properly. I want you to fuck me, Patrick." I said that I would be very happy to do just that. Zizi needed no urging: he knelt doggy-fashion so I got behind and applied my tongue to his crack. Zizi's cries of surprise suggested that Heinz hadn't bothered with the simple courtesies of getting Zizi's arse nice and wet. "How does Uncle Heinz like to fuck you?" I asked, "from behind, obviously, but how does he get you ready?" Zizi thought. "I don't know. I'm always ready. I love being fucked." I put a finger in, to find that Zizi was indeed ready - his arse was as well-oiled as mine. Still someone had paid well for my professional treatment and I didn't intend to stint. I felt that Zizi's horizons could do with being widened in the next hour or so. "How old are you, Zizi?" "12." "Is Uncle Heinz the only man who's fucked you?" "Yes." "How old were you when he started?" "8." It all seemed very familiar, except that for Uncle Heinz read Father Corrigan. I got on with the business of showing Zizi that lips and a tongue - and five minutes later a finger, and a few minutes after than another finger - were excellent precursors to a cock. Zizi was loving what was happening, and I felt pretty sure that it was new to him. What a shame that Uncle Heinz seemed to care so little for the boy's pleasure. I decided I would do my damnedest to make sure that whatever else happened to Zizi he wouldn't forget the next hour. My fingers sought his prostate, but it was undeveloped and although I rubbed in the right sort of places I wasn't sure I'd found it. Since Zizi was bouncing about as though he had electric wires up his arse I wasn't too bothered though - the message was getting through all right. Without any warning he came again, his cock doing its best to force out spunk his balls weren't making yet. I felt the spasms in his arse as each contraction ripped through his slender body. "Oh fuck, Patrick, that's so good." I rubbed a bit more with my fingers, eliciting a long low moan from Zizi. "Come on," I said, "I want to fuck you now." "Put it in then," he said. "Oh no, I'm going to do it properly. You'll enjoy it much more my way." I got on my back and showed Zizi how he was to squat over me. "You want me to sit on your cock, is that it?" "Well, not exactly sit on it, but I want you to lower yourself onto it," and I took hold of his hips and got him in the right place. He reached down and felt my cock, and aimed it at his hole. As he was well juiced inside I raised my hips at the right moment and suddenly I had about 3 inches up inside him. "Oh, yessss!" he sighed, and lowered himself, taking the whole of my hard cock into his body. I reached up to his shoulders and pulled his body onto mine, kissing him and holding him tight. "Does your uncle do it this way?" He shook his head. "Do you like it this way?" He nodded. "Good. Now I'm going to give you the best fuck I can." I withdrew almost all the way and slowly, slowly pushed all the way back in. He was tight, even though he'd been fucked by his uncle - young muscle was elastic and his arse gave no sign of having had a man-sized cock regularly invading it. What was good for me was that he had learned how to squeeze a cock by contracting his arse muscles, and we soon set up a satisfying rhythm as I plunged in and he squeezed as though in welcome. After a few minutes he broke free from my arms and sat straight up, altering the angle of my cock in his arse, and from the expression on his face getting a better feeling from it. I was surprised to see that he was rubbing his nipples really quite hard, and I wondered where he had picked that up. I knew I'd be coming in a short time so I asked him where he wanted it, in him or somewhere else. "On my tummy," was his immediate reply. "I want to see it come out of your cock. Uncle Heinz always cums up my arse and I never see it." This was fine by me. "OK," I said, "when I'm near I'll tell you and you get off and move back an inch or two. Then I'll aim my cock at your tummy and you'll set it fly out." Zizi grinned. "That'll be exciting!" Too right, I thought, and so will what I do with it when it's finished coating your smooth belly. I accelerated, forcing my cock deeper into the boy, whose moans were constant now. Would he come again? Surely not. "Now!" I cried. He rose up off my cock and as I finished myself off with my hand he watched open-mouthed as several jets of cum flew out of my cock up onto his belly. "Fuck!" he said softly as the last few drops were squeezed out. It was trickling down to his cock, still hard and insistent. "On your back," I said, and as he turned and lay down I gathered some of my cum and rubbed it on his cock and balls. I lifted his legs, pushed two fingers back in, then wanked him as fast as I could with my cum as lube. It took him about 40 seconds of mounting urgency, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, for his third orgasm to overwhelm him. I bent my lips to his cock as he came. He took my head in his hands and stroked my hair. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," was all he could manage to say. Then, after a moment to get his breath back, he leant over and took my cock in his mouth. I had had my cock in a lot of different places in the last few years, but never before in a 12-year-old's mouth (apart from Tim's, that is) who was so skilled in cleaning a spent cock. If Uncle Heinz had taught him that then I raised my hat to Uncle Heinz. Such treatment deserved reciprocity, so we were soon 69ing. After-sex 69ing is quite different, because it's about tenderness rather than urgency, but there's a boundary there which has to be carefully managed. I didn't know how keen Zizi would be for a fourth cum in less that 40 minutes, so I let him set the pace. It seemed that three was enough, so our licking and tonguing stayed tender. He broke off and turned round again to kiss me. I put my arms round him. "I loved that," I said, "and I think you did too." He grinned. "You are right, Patrick, I certainly did. Uncle Heinz will be back in a moment, and he will fuck you. Are you ready?" This was unexpected after what had already happened, but it was what I had expected when I had first knocked at their door. "Yes, I'll like that," I said, "but not as much as I've enjoyed fucking you." He laughed. A few minutes later, while we were still embracing, the door opened softly and Heinz came back in. "I see you two have had some fun. I will fuck you now, Patrick." He took off his clothes revealing a muscular body, not bad at all for a man of 40-odd. His cock was hard, but not particularly big (lucky Zizi, I thought), but quite thick. As it was clear from Zizi's posture that Heinz fucked boys doggy-fashion that was how I positioned myself. He pulled me back to the edge of the bed, positioned his cock at the target and pushed himself in in one long thrust. Just the way I like it, I thought, and allowed myself to say "ooooh! That's so good, Heinz." Heinz didn't last long - was it my sexy young body which caused him to reach a climax so quickly? - and after less than four minutes I felt him speed up and moments later I could feel hot gushes of cum filling my arse. "Oh yes, I can feel you shooting in my arse," I said, "that's so hot." We whores aren't terribly inventive at moments like this, but clients seldom complain at the excited remarks we make while they are at their peak. Heinz's post-coital behaviour was quite unlike Zizi's: no tenderness, no desire for a cuddle, not even any invitation to deal with his cummy cock (not a distasteful duty, as you'll have noticed), nothing. "Thank you, Patrick, get dressed now." When I did and was ready to go I thanked them both, gave Zizi a kiss and a hug, and left. An unexpectedly interesting escapade. I wondered how Zizi would turn out when he went through adolescence. Not in a dress, I hoped. I went down for a shower. Tim would be finishing with his client now, and I wondered what would be happening. We were becoming pretty busy now, and when we had a full complement of six I guessed we'd be spending less time in the elevators - but that was the shop window. Oh well, it was Sir's problem - after all, he was management and we were but the workers. I went to parade myself - tomorrow was the last day at sea, so if any shy customer had delayed plucking up his courage the next few hours would be his last opportunity to get off with one of us. I went up and down, smiling nicely, rather hoping that I might get a rest tomorrow. Today was going to be busy! Just before 1200 I went to the sick bay. Tim was already there, and on the stroke of midday (we always come exactly when we're asked to) we went in. Roger was in bed, but he looked much better than he had earlier. "Are you the last ones?" he said, "it's been non-stop visiting this morning." "You're going to live then," said Tim. "They reckon I might just do that, but if you hadn't got me here they say I might have died that night." It would not have done to be too serious, so I just grinned and said that his dying would have spolied what had otherwise been a good day. We expressed an interest, as 14-year-olds do, in seeing the wound, and were rather disappointed to find a small bandage. "And I thought they'd at least have to cut your leg off," said Tim, feigning poorly-hidden disappointment. "The bad news," said Roger, "is that they'll cart me off home when we get to England. I won't be allowed back on for at least 6 weeks." Since 'home' was London somewhere it wouldn't be too much of a journey. "Well, you'll be able to tell all your pals about your many adventures on the briny," I said. There wasn't much more to say, and we'd been told not to stay long. "Look after yourself," I said., "see you again in 6 weeks." We didn't, as it happened. Roger never returned to Queen Mary. Sir told us some months later that Roger's family had been so shocked that he had nearly died 'on that boat' that he was told to find a job safely on land. When I set about trying to trace him thirty years later I discovered that a V2 had killed him and his family in 1944. He was 24 and had been home on leave. When I broke off from elevator duty at 1330 to see Tim before Gus arrived at 1400 there was no-one in the cabin. I waited ten minutes, then Tim and Charlie came in, giggling together. "What's going on?" I said. Tim said, "I was telling Charlie about my client this morning, and neither of us could stop laughing." "What was so funny?" "Wait until I tell Sir tomorrow, you'll love it," he said, and would not be persuaded to tell me. "And don't bother wheedling it out of Charlie either, because I made him promise not to tell you," added my evil brother. "I forgive you both," I said, with my best beatific Catholic smile, "go and sin lots more." It was a great exit line, too good to waste, so I swept out, leaving them to get ready for Gus. This would be the first time Charlie had had sex with anyone when I hadn't been there. I felt this would probably be harder for me than it was going to be for him. Tim would see he was all right. I showered again and applied vaseline. I had nearly an hour to kill before my American in 713, and I knew I'd be on hot bricks unless I kept busy. Up and down I went, up and down, smiling invitingly, my heart in the cabin with them, my mind in a state. This was silly, I told myself. You've recruited this boy to be a whore, like you, and you're worried about him being fucked by someone you trust who's already fucked you. Where's the sense in thinking like that, Patrick? "I said Deck 8, boy," interrupted my daydream. "I'm sorry, Sir." I had no idea that he had spoken to me already. He looked at me sideways. Smile time, Patrick, you never know. We reached Deck 8 and I opened the door. There was no-one waiting to get in. He didn't get out. The elevator door shut. "Where would you like to go now, Sir?" in my most seductive voice. "Well, kid, that depends on what you'd let me do when we got there." "I'm up for most things, Sir." "Yes, I guess you might be." We were stationary at Deck 8 still, with the door safely shut. He felt my cock. I felt his. A tacit agreement had been reached. I got his number and told him he would be contacted, but I wouldn't be available until tomorrow as I had a client in 20 minutes. "I can wait for a gorgeous kid like you," he said, feeling me again. I smiled. "The longer the wait the better the treat, Sir." It was his turn to smile. "OK, let me out. Enjoy your client ... ?" "Patrick, Sir." " ... Patrick." I went quickly down to tell Sir and spent a few minutes going up and down again until it was time to visit 713. It would be some time before a quick vision of Brunnhilde stopped flashing through my mind as I knocked at clients' stateroom doors. Happily on this occasion there was no doubt about the sex of the person behind the door. He was man all over. 15 stone of bronzed all-American guy. Well, I say bronzed. The bits I could see were bronzed, but since the bits I could see were roughly 98% of his body it was likely that he sunbathed without the benefit of clothing. "Hello, kid," he said, holding out a large hand. Most clients don't bother with handshakes, but it was nice to be treated as worthy of such a greeting. "I'm Patrick," I said, offering my hand. It was gripped firmly. "Hank." "Well, Hank, why don't I take my clothes off - unless you would like to?" "I sure would, Patrick, come and lie on the bed." The less work I had to do, the better, so I did as I was asked. Hank, still in his 2% (which did nothing to disguise the fact that when we got down to it he would have something quite substantial to bring to bear), very gently kissed me while undoing my jacket buttons. "Mmm!" when he saw that underneath my jacket there was only Mulloy. "Are you like that all the way down?" "Why don't you find out?" His fingers went to my trouser buttons, opened then slowly, explored within, and finding more Mulloy drew that part which was of interest into the open. I sat up. "Let's get these off," I said. I was out of mine in a few seconds and I knelt in front of Hank. I licked the outline of his cock through the cotton of his very skimpy briefs. As it hardened and lengthened I used my teeth to pull the briefs down. "Wow, kid, you're good, you know that?" There is no correct answer to such a question, so I forbore from replying. He stepped out of his briefs. We were now ready for whatever fun he had in mind. Hank pushed me down onto the bed again and stood over me, just looking. What he saw must have pleased him. What he saw was a naked, hairless boy of 14, his uncut 6-inch cock hard up against his belly, his balls ready to produce the goodies, his legs apart invitingly, his face a strange combination of joy and lust. "Well, Hank? I'm all yours." Then Hank told me what he wanted. I wish he'd told Sir so that I could have prepared. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 28 as a long day unfolds. 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. ===============================================================================