Date: Sat, 7 Apr 2018 10:44:14 +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 40 I introduced them all to Arthur and told him that all six of us were eager to have him swallow our spunk. "You choose what order you want us in, Arthur." Arthur smiled. "How can I choose if you're all in your clothes? Strip off, boys, and let me see the taps from which I'm going to drink." Two minutes later the six of us were standing facing him, our cocks in various states of readiness. Alan and Charlie were fully erect; Tim, Andrew and I were at half mast, and only Sam was still soft. I was amused by this, and wondered whether Sam was deliberately doing his seventeen-times table in his head. He, and the rest of us, knew that he would add a full four inches when he was fully hard, but all Arthur saw was a fairly ordinary four-incher dangling there. Arthur had a good look. "You can feel if you like," said Tim. Arthur accepted this offer and walked slowly along the parade like an inspecting general carefully assessing the quality of what he was confronted with. "I like the way you're all smooth," he said, "a boy's cock is much nicer without hair. I think I'll start with the tallest boy, then the shortest, then the second tallest, and so on. We looked at each other and lined up (not without some discussion) in what seemed the right order: Alan, Tim, Sam, me, Andrew, Charlie. Alan stepped forward. "Will I wank, or do you want to wank me?" Arthur said that he wanted Alan to wank himself while he caressed Alan's arse. That was fine by Alan, who set about his wank with gusto. Arthur's hands held Alan's arse, separating his cheeks and allowing a questing finger to roam near his hole. Alan could be fast when he put his mind to it, and that morning he was firing Arthur's first mouthful in under a minute. Arthur's lips drew the still-shooting cock deep into his mouth and his tongue expertly milked Alan of the last drops. "You have to be clean," said Arthur after he'd swallowed, and he drew Alan's foreskin back and gently licked the ultra-sensitive cockhead. Alan shuddered. "Thanks, Arthur, I enjoyed that." Next Tim, already hard, approached, his foreskin retracted and precum glistening, rubbed his wet cockhead on Arthur's half-open lips. "You like the taste of my spunk, Arthur, don't you. You want to feel my cock squirt and swell in your mouth as I let go my load." Arthur nodded. "You know what I want, Tim, and talking like that makes you all the more desirable." Tim's legs were well apart. Sam stood beside him and wanked him slowly while fingering his arse crack with his other hand. From where the rest of us were standing we could see Tim bend his knees slightly and Sam sticking a finger up his arse. Arthur had his mouth open in front of Tim's cock ready to be filled. Sam accelerated and Tim began to groan. "Oh God, Sam, oh fuck, that's ... Arthur, here it is" and Arthur was just in time to engulf Tim's cock as it started to pour cum into him. Tim pushed his cock into Arthur's mouth as it pulsed five or six times. "Mmm," said Tim, "you suck cock nicely, Arthur." Sam stayed where he was and Tim started to wank him. Arthur was impressed. "That's a fine size you've got there, Sam, and the way you and Tim wank each other I guess you're boyfriends. Am I right?" Sam nodded, "yeah. He's so fucking sexy, I love him." Tim grinned, "you'll love it when he shoots, Arthur, it'll blast your tonsils. He cums buckets." Arthur's face lit up even more that it already was. I hoped he wouldn't have a heart attack before he'd taken all six of us. Tim's had two fingers up Sam's arse and was giving his prostate a serious going-over, with the inevitable consequence that Sam cried out. "Oh, now, Arthur, quick!" Again Arthur, no slouch when it came to having his mouth ready for boys, was in time and as Sam's cock was an inch or so away from Arthur's mouth, we could see separate spurts shoot out of Sam and fly across the gap into Arthur's mouth. That was more erotic to see than a cock shooting deep inside his mouth. Arthur rolled Sam's copious load round his mouth before swallowing. "Delicious," he said, "salty and very rich. I need a rest for a few minutes. A good meal shouldn't be gobbled down as fast as possible, but should be eaten slowly, allowing each mouthful to be seriously enjoyed. The three boys whose jizz I've swallowed all taste completely different. Alan was nutty, Tim was like mango, just as it was yesterday, and Sam was salty. All different and all utterly delightful. Patrick will be like almonds, but I'm not ready yet. Why don't you all lie on the bed for a few minutes until I'm ready for the other three." We accepted his invitation, although there wasn't really room for six boys on Arthur's bed. Each cock which had delivered Arthur's purchase was orally caressed by one of us still to perform. Charlie was tasting Tim, and possibly mango, I had Sam's saltiness and Andrew was licking Alan's cock like a kid with a lollipop. Not for the first time I wondered what the relationship between those two was. They slept in the same bed - that we'd seen - but was there beginning to be anything more than just a mutual desire for sex? "Tell me when you're ready, Arthur," I said, "because I'm next and I know how much you love almonds. As you can see, I'm hot and hard." What Arthur couldn't see from where he was sitting was that I was hot and hard, not in anticipation of having Arthur suck my cock, but because Alan had two fingers well up inside me, as I had two fingers up inside Charlie. Charlie groaned, so my fingers were out of him immediately. "Thanks," he whispered, "that was close." I reached behind me and gently pulled Alan's fingers out of me. Alan had had four fingers up me early on, when there just three of us in Sir's performing troupe, and I had forgotten how good he was in that department. I needed to have him up there properly again, but not now, not today. Arthur got up from his chair and sat at the side of the bed. "Come on, Patrick, feed me that fine 14-year-old cock of yours." We all got off the bed and lined up. Three of us stood side by side facing him, with me in the middle. Behind us stood Alan, Tim and Sam. I stepped forward and bent my knees slightly. Alan held my left arse cheek in his right hand; Sam my right in his left hand; they pulled apart and Tim knelt down to rim my now wide-open arsehole. Arthur's eyes couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You've paid us well, Arthur," I said, "so you're getting something special to remember in Chicago. Tim is rimming me and in a moment he's going to stick three fingers up and rub my prostate. I'm going to come hard in your mouth without touching my cock, so get ready. There won't be much warning." Tim's tongue was replaced by one, then two, then all three fingers. His middle finger went straight for it. As soon as he felt it his left hand reached round, found my cock and drew back my foreskin, I was now loaded, primed and aimed. The target got off the bed and knelt inches from me. His mouth was wide open and I knew it would get what it wanted in less than ten seconds. Tim's finger worked its hidden magic; my balls got the message and spunk started to pump up along my cock and "here is comes!" into Arthur's mouth. "Fuck!" breathed Andrew on my right, "he's shot six jets." Coming like that by prostate play is much more exhausting, or it is to me. My knees were already bent to allow Tim access, and as soon as I'd finished shooting they gave out altogether and I found myself kneeling at Arthur's feet. "I've given you my all," I said dramatically, making the most of my being down there. You never know, he might thrown money at me. He didn't throw money, but he did lean forward and stroke my hair. "Thank you, Patrick, that was your best yet." Andrew followed, wanking himself hard and fast as Alan had done. I guessed that they had planned it that way. Arthur had Andrew's cock well inside his mouth at the magic moment, so we never saw how much he came, but as Arthur's eyes opened wider than usual we assumed it was a big load. "You've managed to save the best for last," said Tim, "Charlie is special." I could see that Charlie was a bit perplexed by this, and was wondering how his specialness, of which he was unaware, would manifest itself. I decided to confuse things even more. "What Tim means," I said, "is that Charlie comes from Scotland and his jizz tastes of heather. Even if you're really lucky and find a nice boy in Chicago who'll come in your mouth, you won't find any hint of heather. You saw that Tim and Sam are boyfriends - well, Charlie is my boyfriend and I'm going to help him fill you with the taste of Bonnie Scotland." I couldn't see eyes rolling at this kitsch drollery, and I hoped I hadn't ladled it on too thickly, but Arthur's critical faculty was having half an hour off while the rest of his brain enjoyed what his mouth was about to receive. "I should like that," said our host with mock solemnity. Charlie stood upright, his cock urgently hard, his hands on his hips. I knelt in front of him with my back to Arthur and lovingly engulfed his cock in my mouth. I looked up and Charlie looked down. Our eyes met. I winked. I took my mouth off his cock and drew his foreskin back, licking the wet exposed end. "Look at that cock, Arthur, isn't it the best you've ever seen?" Arthur very quietly said that all boys' cocks were lovely, but that he believed that if Charlie and I loved each other then Charlie's cock was certainly the best in my eyes. Whores aren't supposed to show real emotion, but that got to me. Luckily I was still facing away from him. Charlie got the message and started to wank himself. Given that he'd not had more than a fortnight's experience of wanking he did a pretty good job and it was only a couple of minutes later that he groaned and Arthur reached forward for the heather treatment. When Charlie had finished Arthur rolled his cum round his mouth and smiled. "What that needs is a glass of whisky to wash it down." He went to the cupboard beside his bed and took out a bottle. "I don't have enough glasses, but since we're all friends I think we can all drink from the bottle. You're all far too young to drink, so one swig each, OK?" This was indeed OK and the bottle went solemnly round, each of us taking a mouthful. Each one of us swallowed - we're good at that - and each one of us had a coughing fit. "Thanks, Arthur," I said as the tears ran down my face, and I gave him the bottle back and hugged him. The others took the hint, and Arthur's last memory of his transatlantic crossing was being hugged by six naked teenagers, all with wet cummy cocks. We put our uniforms back on. "That was fun," he said, "I don't suppose I'll ever have that much fun again. Here's something so you all remember me as happily as I'll remember you." To my astonishment he gave me $100. "Arthur, that's really kind, thank you," and we all hugged him again. No cocks on view this time, but more sincere thanks that earlier. We went back to our cabin. "I'll get Sir to change this so we each get our share," I said. We agreed we'd meet mid-afternoon to talk about the evening. Until then it was smiling time in the elevators. "See who gets the most," said Andrew. When we met in our cabin at 1600 we sat down to take stock of the voyage. We knew that Sir shared out the money that was added to passengers' bills, and that it had been over $30 on each crossing. That made nearly $100 each. Arthur had given us another $16 today, and there were all the tips we'd had from elevator duties as well as fucking duties. Tim and I had agreed before we left Southampton on the maiden voyage that we would pool whatever we got. So far it came to over $200 and nearly £100. Say £150 almost each in less than three weeks. Added to that were our wages. We were rich! I imagined that the others wouldn't be that far behind, although they'd only been earning fuck money as long as Tim and I had. I told them I'd been to see Sir to ask him to hold onto the cash, and he said he was keeping a tally of how much he owed each of us. As we were going to have time ashore in New York he was going to give us dollars to spend. It was all going well. The Mulloy plan of having £100 by Christmas was far too unambitious. We talked about what the evening was going to be like, but since no-one had any idea, beyond that there would be sex, we didn't get very far. I don't know how we got to 2100, but eventually the time arrived. We'd been sitting in Cabin 3 since 1945 watching the minutes pass. At about 2030 Tim had the bright idea that a shower would be a good idea, followed by a good greasing. We all leapt up and made ourselves even lovelier than we already were, and by 2055 we could wait no longer. Uniforms, but nothing else, on we made our way to the pool. When we got there we found Larry and three other men we didn't know. Before we could say anything Sir appeared from the changing room and beckoned all of us to follow him. When we went in we were directed to sit on the benches round the wall. Sir closed the door. "Many of you will know what I'm about to say, but it's right that you should all know. The six boys here are my group of willing boys who have sex with male passengers. Phil has a group of twelve, is it?" (Phil nodded) "adult crew members who provide the same services for queer passengers who want sex with other men. Six of them will be here with the boys. Some of you boys know some of the men, and I know that some of you have fucked each other. Phil and I encourage that, and there will be plenty of that tonight. Now I'm not staying, so make sure you enjoy yourselves, and each other, of course." And with that he went, leaving us to contemplate what fun we might have with six men. "OK, everyone, let's get on with it," said Phil. "Boys, follow me." He led us into a smaller room where he told us to strip and put our uniforms in the lockers. He gave each of us a black silky thing to wear. None of us at that time had any idea what it was, but it was clear where we were to wear it. "It's called a pouch," he said. "The idea is that no-one can see your bits, but everyone can see perfectly well that what you've got in there is interesting." I put mine on and the feeling of silk against naked hairless flesh was very sexy. My cock was getting stiff so I tucked it down between my legs, which of course made it even harder. "I think I see the point," I said, "it makes you stiff and makes it visible." Coarse laughter greeted this observation. I sometimes despaired of my fellow whores. Nevertheless all six of us emerged back into the main room duly garbed in very skimpy pouches. We were greeted with delight by the four men whom we had last seen in uniform. No longer. They, like us, were now more lightly clad, in their case in more substantial, but still revealing kit. "They're jock straps," explained Larry "and they stop your junk flopping around when you're doing sports." "Here's the plan," said Phil. "You boys all know Larry and me, and most of you know Ryan. He'll be coming shortly with food and drink. The other three are Francis, James and Will." He asked us to introduce ourselves, saying a bit about where we came from and what we liked. The men were surprised that Tim and I were so young, but no-one wanted an explanation. I noticed that Francis and Will seemed more interested knowing that we were only 14. "Now what about you guys?" said Alan. Francis was a big man with rippling muscles. He worked in the engine room and was 28, from Hull. James was the barman who had caught Tim's eye when we were rushing round the ship preparing for Sir's test before the maiden voyage. He was slim, 35 from Bristol. Will was the junior officer - he couldn't have been more than 22 or so - who had grinned at Phil when he took us onto the bridge for our treat on the last voyage. It was strange to have an officer and an engine room man in the same situation, but then if you thought about it it was strange to have six almost naked boys there as well. Sex broke all barriers, even in those days. Class differences were still very important in pre-war England, but once you got your clothes off most of the class signifiers no longer applied. And if you kept your mouth shut (or if not shut, then filled with a cock) then the last vestige disappeared. At this point Ryan appeared with a trolley, and we helped him unload it. There was enough food to keep us all energised for a night's action, and enough drink to get us all going. "Everybody get a drink and a bite and I'll tell you what the arrangements are," said Phil. "In that room are mattresses; in the small room we've set up a sling; in the shower room you can do whatever wet things take your fancy; and then there's the pool. The food and drink stay here, and apart from that you can go where you like and do what you like. We have to be out by 0200, so we've got over four hours. Don't wait to be asked." He and Ryan went into the other room and came back a minute later in jock straps. Six men: six boys. I went to Phil and quietly asked whether this was all his idea. "Mine and Corrigan's," he said. "We've made much more than we expected, and this is a good way of celebrating it. He's very pleased with the six of you, and especially you - you've really done well getting a team together so quickly." I grinned, "well, you and the others were a big help with the training." He laughed. "It was a treat for us too." "Are the three I don't know all into boys as well as men?" "Do you think they'd be here if they weren't?" Everybody else was at the drinks table. I got a glass of beer - it was likely that I'd want quantity, but a beer to get me started before I switched to juice would be nice. I noticed that Tim had made the same choice. The other four boys were drinking wine as were most of the men. Only Francis was drinking beer. I caught his eye and raised my glass to him. "I'm on beer because I want to enjoy it twice," I said, "what about you, Francis." Francis clinked my glass. "Too right, Patrick, and as I can drink a hell of a lot more beer than you can, you'll be enjoying a lot more of mine that I will of yours." "That's true," I said, "but I can whistle up reinforcements," and I pointed at Tim. I then slowly and deliberately pointed at Charlie, and Sam, and at Alan, and Andrew." "Are they all into ..." I nodded. "We're a versatile bunch. What about you? What do you want to do?" Francis wasn't clear exactly what he wanted to do, or which of us he wanted to do it with, but he made it crystal clear that by 0200 he would have done whatever it was, and certainly more than once. Tim, standing beside me, announced that he'd been in to see what a sling was, and that it was what he'd dreamed of having. "What is it?" I said. "You won't believe it, go and look." When I got back my brother's happy expression and mine were the occasion for comment. "What have you two found?" asked Will. "The sling," said Tim. "Patrick and I are expert fisters and that thing is just what we need." I felt a hand on my arse. It was Charlie. He whispered in my ear "why don't you stop talking and start doing something? I need you." I finished my beer, carefully put my glass down, turned back to Charlie who was still standing where he'd been, took his head in my hands and gave him a big kiss. I felt his cock hard against my belly. I broke away from the kiss and got on my knees. I pulled his pouch down, allowing his cock to slap up against his belly. My lips were on it, my hands on his balls. He parted his feet and bent his knees. I reached round with my left hand but Tim beat me to it. Charlie was hot, and Tim's fingers took him from smouldering to being aflame in a couple of minutes. I was sucking and slurping and Charlie was writhing and moaning. An audience had gathered and encouragement was being given. At first it was vocal but quite soon I felt hands on my arse and cock - Ryan's. Larry moved to kiss Charlie who responded keenly, his hands pulling Larry close. Then he boiled over, filling my mouth. I kept his cock in until it had subsided then stood up, my mouth still full. Larry saw what was happening and transferred his lips from Charlie to me. "God, Charlie, you came buckets," he said, "and tasty too." The ice was broken. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 41 as we continue to enjoy Phil's friends. 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. ===============================================================================