Date: Wed, 1 Aug 2018 12:37:13 +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 68 What we learned that afternoon was, to say the least, interesting. During the previous weeks Cunard had been advertising for 'Boys of 15 to train as bell boys on RMS Queen Mary'. A large number of applicants had been narrowed down to about 50 who were selected for interview in Southampton. Naturally Cunard wanted boys who looked pleasant, with a nice smile for all those passengers in the elevators. What the interviewers had not known of course, was that somewhat more would be required, and that was where Tim and I came in. The 50 or so had been narrowed down to 14, and they would all be in Southampton when we docked two days later. I asked how the 50 had been reduced to 14. "A combination of factors," said Sir, "but mainly by physical things - slim, nice smile, not too rich a regional accent." The last one surprised us, because one of the things all of us had had way back in early 1936 had been regional accents - Cunard had deliberately recruited from all over the country. "Ah, but we had several months to train you lot; this time the lucky ones will join the ship when we do, in 16 days time." Tim asked what would happen. "Cunard has arranged for us to have accommodation at a place used as a summer camp nearby. Your Ashokan experience will be useful, no doubt. There will be two dormitory huts, each with eight beds - seven recruits and one of you. There will be showers, pretty basic, but that will help your task, and meals will be provided by local staff. They will have no contact with you, or the boys, apart from cooking and serving meals. You two are in charge. I will be there, but I will have no part in anything unless there's a problem you can't solve - an accident or anything like that. You will have three days to train them, and to discover whether any of them are suitable to join our little group. How you do it is up to you, but of course the very existence of our group must be kept secret. After three days you will report to me, and I will then make a decision. The ones I recruit will then have ten days to go home, say their good-byes, and join us on board." This seemed a big task, but one which would be fun to carry out. Sir asked whether we had any questions, but neither of us could think of any at that moment. "Well, if any occur to you, ask me before we dock. I don't want the recruits to see you and me together other than in a formal way. I'm your boss, and I want you to keep me at a distance, that kind of thing. I'm sure you'll manage, and I think you'll enjoy it." By 0915 the next morning quite a lot of questions had occurred to us, and as there were no more assignations only Tim and I were bidden to 'Come'. "I'm glad you've thought about it," Sir said, "that shows you're taking an important job seriously. What do you need to know?" "Several things," I said. "What do you want us to do with them for three days? Nights is easy, but what about days?" "Tell them about what their duties will be as bell boys. Tell them about the ship, how big it is, what kinds of places there are. The ones I select will be given full instruction - by you - on board, so they don't need to know where things are, but they should know the general layout: First Class, crew quarters, and everything in between. They're all fit - we've weeded out those that aren't - so some kind of energy-sapping exercise would be good. You'll have two huts, so competitive games of some kind will show which of them have leadership qualities. You two won't be the senior boys for ever. What else?" "Have they all had a medical examination?" "Yes, and I think I can guess why you're asking. Given the nature of the duties they will be having, I need uncircumcised boys. That's what you'll be getting. It's up to you to find out what use they like to make of their foreskins - no-one has made any sort of enquiry in that direction. That's what we need 16-year-olds to find out for us. Any more?" Tim said that he wanted to be sure about keeping order with a bunch of boys his age. "That's up to you, Tim. They will be told that you two are the Bell Captains - congratulations, by the way - and that you are the last step in the selection process. I can't think you'll have any disciplinary problem, but if you do, don't forget I will be nearby. Now if that's it, I have things to tell you about the 14 boys." Sir gave us each a sheet of paper. "Sort out who goes in each hut. A bus will meet us at the dock, and apart from the driver you and the boys will be all on your own. I will make my own way to the camp later. I will be in a bungalow about half a mile away. Come and see me, both of you, at 1400 on Thursday. Unless there's a crisis - an accident, say - I don't want to see any of you until then. Meals at 0800, 1300 and 1800. You two can go to the meal hut at 2100 to make them cocoa if you want. The staff will have gone long before then. Enjoy the first steps on the ladder to management, boys!" This was said with a bright twinkle, and we said we wouldn't let him down. "Oh, by the way," he said, "go and get Ryan to tidy you up." "How did he know about Ryan shaving us? " said Tim after we'd left Sir's office. "No idea, but I guess the men talk about us and what we get up to. If we're all nice and smooth it means Sir expects us to be naked with the boys. How are we going to do that without them thinking it's all too weird?" "You'll think of something," said my loyal brother. We went down to cabin 1 and read the stuff Sir had given us. There were 14 names, each with a brief description - nothing more. Colin; Reading, 8 August 1922 Derek; Grantham, 25 May 1922 George; Canterbury, 3 January 1923 Graham; Lincoln, 7 November 1922 Javid; London 3 September 1922 Kevin; London 29 September 1922 Martin; Ipswich, 22 March 1923 Nigel; Lincoln, 7 November 1922 Paul; Oxford, 15 December 1922 Prince; London, 4 February 1923 Richard; Hertford, 17 November 1922 Simon; London, 3 October 1922 Vincent; Canterbury, 5 February 1923 William; London, 18 January 1923 There wasn't a lot to go on. Tim wondered whether Graham and Nigel were twins. "I hope so," I said, "as that will make life very interesting. If they are, and they're anything like we are, then finding out about the others might be a lot easier." "What about Javid and Prince - they're weird names? He can't be a real prince, can he?" In those days we had no experience of black or brown people, and the names meant nothing to us. "How should we split them up?" said Tim. "I don't know. Do we split Graham and Nigel up? If Javid and Prince aren't English do we split them up? Do we keep the London ones together? There's two quite close in age from Canterbury - if they know each other they might be like the twins. Let's think about it." In the end we settled for the simple way: the eldest seven with me and the others with Tim. The twins, if they were twins, were together, as were the Canterbury two, but Javid and Prince were split up. ***** We tied up the next day. Passengers always disembarked before we did, and we remained on elevator duty until 1000. Sir had told us to be at the dockside at 1100, so Tim and I had an hour in which to say good-bye to Sam and Charlie. We knew it would only be for two weeks, but since we'd met we'd never been separated, even for one night. It was an emotional time for all four of us. Wisely the As left us to deal with it in our own way. At 1050 we gathered the kit Sir had told us to take and had a last embrace. We didn't want the good-bye to be in public, so Charlie and Sam got on with their duties in preparation for the next lot of passengers, and didn't see us off. That way by the time we met our charges at 1100 we would appear to be all grown up, and in control of ourselves. At the foot of the crew gangway (much less smart than the passengers' one) we saw Sir with 14 boys lined up, and a bus parked beside them. Tim and I walked briskly to them. "Good morning, Sir, " I said, all proper-like. "Good morning, Patrick, Tim," said Sir entering into the spirit of the thing. I wondered how many of the 14 boys standing beside us could have guessed that this man had had our cocks in his mouth. I went on to wonder how many of them would be similarly honoured in the next few weeks. As Sir said nothing I twigged that I was in charge now. I glanced at him and detected the tiniest nod. I referred to my sheet. "Will these boys please line up for me in this order, right to left: Derek, Colin, Javid, Kevin, Simon, Graham and Nigel. Behind them will Richard, Paul, George, William, Prince, Vincent and Martin." They quickly got into position. "My name is Patrick, and my twin brother is Tim. I will be in charge of the front line, in Dormitory A, and Tim will be in charge of the rear line in Dormitory B. Now let's all get in the bus, and I'll tell you more when we arrive. Thank you, Sir," and that was Sir effectively dismissed. He allowed himself a smile - his star pupil was doing well. When we got there Tim pointed to the two huts. "The beds next to the doors are Patrick's and mine," he said, "sort yourselves out into the other seven. Leave your kit on the beds and we'll be along in five minutes." We hadn't rehearsed any of this, but it seemed to be working well enough. As the boys ran off Tim and I winked at each other. This was going to be fun. It was now midday on Monday. We had 74 hours. As I walked to my hut I had to cross a football field, and I could see an outdoor pool a little way off, with a changing hut. Someone had done their homework. When I got to my hut there was scurry as the seven boys went to stand by their beds. It was a bit too military for my liking, but it would be easier to relax things a bit that it would be to tighten up. "Put your kit away in the locker by your bed, and sit down," I said. "Derek, you're the eldest. Tell me what you were told about what would happen when you came here." Derek stood up. "Sir ..." he started. I stopped him. "I'm not Sir, I'm Patrick, and my twin brother is Tim. And you needn't stand up, Derek, sit down. We're bell boys, not soldiers." Derek blushed and sat down. "Well, Patrick, they said we'd be here for three days for a final selection. They didn't say anything about what would happen." That made things easier, but it meant that Tim and I would have to invent everything. The two of us would need to co-ordinate things before we did anything daft. "We'll be telling you about Queen Mary, about what your duties will be and something about what passengers will expect. You will all have to be fit and look your best, so there'll be plenty of exercise here." I hadn't had time to see what there was at the camp apart from the two huts and the food place. An idea struck me. "They give us lunch at 1300 - that's what we call one o'clock on the ship: you'll have to get used to the way time is kept - and it's now 1215. I want you all to go off and explore as much as you can, but be back here in half an hour at 1245 to report to me. Off you go." I put my head round Tim's door to let him know what I had done. "Good idea," he said, I'll get my lot to do the same." "We have to talk once they've gone, because no-one's given them any idea of what's meant to happen." Two minutes later I sat down on the bed next to Tim's. I looked in the locker to see what they'd brought - the bare minimum: a change of socks, underwear and shirt, and pyjamas. "They've not got swimming trunks." "That's good," said Tim, "it means we'll all be swimming naked. Ideal for assessing things," and we both grinned. "Let me do the talking at lunch," I said, "afterwards we'll give then half an hour before getting them all sweaty playing football: your hut against mine. Then we'll swim and see what happens. We have to play it by ear, and take it slowly. Unless it crops up naturally I don't think I want to raise the more interesting stuff tonight." "Yeah, we've got three nights after tonight to set the balls rolling." My lot were all back a few minutes before 1245 and I noted that Graham and Nigel came back together, as did Kevin and Simon - two Londoners. The other three had come back singly. "OK," I said, "what is there here?" The bathroom block between the two huts, the football pitch, the swimming pool, the changing hut, a wood behind the pool, Sir's bungalow and the food hut had all registered on everyone's memory. "Is the pool filled?" Silence for a few seconds until Simon put his hand up. "Simon, this isn't school. Just say it." "Yes, Patrick, and it's cold." There was a snort from Kevin. "Why the snort, Kevin?" Simon glared furiously at Kevin. Kevin said, "that's not what you said when you put your hand in." Kevin had an evil grin. "What did you say, Simon? Come on, we're all boys, and this isn't school." Simon blushed, glared daggers again at Kevin and said that he'd said that it was 'fucking freezing'. I happened to be looking at Derek at this moment, and a pained look went across his face. The others fell about laughing. "Well, that's too bad," I said, "because even if it is fucking freezing that's where we're all going later." A boy who is pained when he hears another boy say 'fucking' isn't going to be a happy bunny when that's what is going to happen to him. One down. And my having used the F-word would mean that they would perhaps begin to relax in front of me. After all, as I'd said, we were all boys. "Come on, it's food time," I said, and we all walked the 100 yards to the hut. They had set out the trestle tables so that we sat round a big square with four on each side. Tim's lot were a minute or two behind us, so when we'd queued up to get our trays loaded I was able to choose where I sat. I wanted to find out whether Graham and Nigel were twins - they certainly weren't identical - and to find out about Javid. Nigel, on my left, said that they were indeed twins ("I wish we were identical like you and Tim," he said, "'cos that's real twins") and that he was 15 minutes younger. "Like Tim," I said. Javid, despite his name, was London born and London bred. His family came from India 'ages ago'. He was a beautiful brown colour, and if he turned up trumps in the assessment that we were to make he would be a big asset, I thought. 15-year-olds, when they're feeding, aren't terribly observant, so I was able to study each of them as he ate. I was amused to see that Tim was doing the same. All of them were attractive to look at: the weeding-out of those less fortunate had seen to that. A few were downright pretty, and they would be a distinct asset. Two had the sort of mischievous grin that I find hugely erotic. Still, this wasn't about what turned me on, I had to remind myself. Gradually as they relaxed the noise level grew. That was good: we needed them to behave as boys, not as interview candidates. I got up to get my pudding and the rest followed. The woman who was doling it out told me to have all the plates stacked and she would deal with them later. I nodded, and she went into the kitchen, closing the door after her. When they were all sitting down again I told them what would be happening. "We are here for three days. On the third day Tim and I will decide which of you will be joining us on Queen Mary. They will go home for 10 days and join us in Southampton before we sail for New York in two weeks time. Have any of you been on a ship before?" No-one had. "The rest of you will go home. Don't think of it as failing: it's not about passing or failing. We only need a maximum of six boys, and you lot have already made it to this stage from over 200 applicants (I made that bit up, knowing that their having been the best of a large initial pool would boost their confidence), and 50 who were interviewed, so all of you, whether you're selected or not, have done very well to get this far. The next three days will be testing, but we hope it will be fun as well. You're all 15 - and no-one, Cunard, Tim, me, expects you to be grown-up and serious all the time. Each morning we'll have a classroom session where we explain what being a bell boy means, and each afternoon we'll have activities of some kind. Today you'll be playing 7-a-side football, my hut against Tim's. After that there'll be a swim in what Simon has so vividly described as fucking freezing water. I'm sure you'll all enjoy that." Laughter: good - they were beginning to relax. As far as I could see no-one else had the same frisson as Derek. "Once the swim's finished you can do what you like until the evening meal at 1800. The bungalow is out of bounds, but apart from that you can go where you like. I imagine the woods might be fun." Three or four titters - good! "We'll talk more after the meal. Tim, tell them about the football." Tim said that they would be divided up as skins against shirts. This had to be explained as most of them had no idea what he meant. "All of you will play in your underpants - we don't want your trousers getting muddy and there's no laundry here. My hut will have their shirts on and Patrick's will just have pants - they're the skins." I could see that one or two of them seemed a bit reluctant, but others didn't appear to have a problem. "Change in your huts," said Tim, and be on the pitch in five minutes." They scurried off. "We'd better strip off too?" I agreed. "Let's make the skins and shirts change over at half time - 20 minutes do you think?" "Yeah. We get to see all those sexy bodies that way." Fourteen fit boys walked onto the football field. The ball we had found wasn't ideal as it could have used more air, but it was good enough. The skins kicked off and Tim and I enjoyed watching. They weren't bad, although a few of them had no idea about what to do and ran after the ball like a bunch of 8-year-olds. Soon a leader emerged in each team (Graham and George), and some kind of order was imposed. Far more interesting than that was the state of their genitals as they ran around. We would see them naked soon enough, but it was encouraging to see that several of them were generously provided for. Prince in particular had underwear which did nothing to hide what he had, and precious little to stop it flopping around either. Neither of us had found a whistle, but the absence of a referee didn't seem to hinder their enjoyment. After about 20 minutes I yelled that it was half time. "Skins, get your shirts on, shirts, take them off," shouted Tim. After a few minutes I shouted "second half," and they started up again. As the object of the exercise was to get them hot and sweaty, and to have therefore an excuse to get them into the cold water, the score was immaterial. I think it was fairly even, with about half a dozen goals each side. When we thought they'd had enough Tim yelled that it was full time. "Who won?" said William. "We did," said Graham, "6-4." As no-one argued this was accepted. "Right," said Tim, "swim time. Go over to the changing hut and strip off." We followed. When we got there most of them were still standing in their pants. Graham and Nigel were naked. Vincent said "we haven't any swimming trunks." "No, but you don't need them. We're all boys," I said and set an example by stripping shamelessly. Tim did the same. Most of the others stripped too, leaving only Derek, Richard, Paul and Martin. "Come on," said Nigel, "we're all naked, why are you so shy?" The last four reluctantly stripped off too. It was time for bravery, so Tim and I ran to the edge and jumped in. It was indeed fucking freezing. The rest of them followed, mostly jumping, but George and Vincent dived in neatly from the side. Javid lowered himself gingerly. "I can't swim," he said to me, hoping no-one would hear. "Doesn't matter," I said, "Queen Mary won't sink. You don't need to be able to swim to be a bell boy." =============================================================================== The fun will continue in Chapter 69 as the interview process continues, and more sexual events occur. 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. ===============================================================================