Date: Mon, 8 Jan 2018 08:53:44 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 8 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 8 Eventually Alan came over. "My turn now," he said, "on your back, Andrew." I don't think Andrew was quite as keen as Alan was, but a bargain was a bargain. "Can I get him ready?" I asked Alan. He nodded, "yeah, go ahead. He's good at this," he told Andrew, "you'll be getting the expert this time." After that kind of introduction I'd really have to perform. I told Andrew that his job was to be as relaxed as possible and to accept everything that was done to him. I told him it would probably hurt when Alan first went in, but the pain would ease gradually, and would ease a lot faster if he pushed as though he was shitting. "What if I shit?" "You won't. There won't be room with Alan's cock up your arse." I knew, as did Alan, that if Andrew hadn't prepared himself Andrew might end up with a shitty cock, but in our line of business that was a risk we expected to run. Not all our clients would be nice and clean up there. There was no point in warning Andrew though. Let him enjoy losing his cherry! I got down between his legs and took his soft cock into my mouth. It tasted cummy and I could sense my own arse juices, both flavours being highly exciting to me, and I was as hard as a nail. A few minutes of tongue action from me and he was as hard as a nail too. Time to move down a bit. My tongue licked slowly all the way down the under-surface of his cock, past his balls, along his perineum to his arsehole. There I stopped and began a slow rhythmic back and forward rimming. Andrew was moaning nicely. Doubtless Cabin 2 could hear; perhaps their own evening activities were enhanced by the moans coming from next door. After a couple of minutes of rimming it was time for a finger to go in. His initial reflex was to tighten. "Push like your shitting," I said. My finger, well vaselined, slipped in, but I could feel resistance. I rotated my finger gently and, as I expected, the resistance eased. I tried a second finger ("ow!") ... then rotated them and ... there was his prostate. He jumped. "What the fuck was that?" "From your reaction Patrick must have found your prostate," said Tim. It was clear that Andrew and his prostate were strangers, so Tim explained while I kept up the practical lesson at my end. Andrew's prostate was doing its job nicely, and a useful pool of precum was leaking onto his belly. His moaning resumed. "I think he's ready," I told Alan. Alan took my place and began to fuck Andrew. His cock found its mark and he put the head in. Andrew's eyes opened wide. "Fuck! That hurts." Alan kept quite still. "It's only an inch in. Push, and keep pushing." As he did so Alan's cock easily slipped in another two inches. "Ow, stop!" Alan stopped. I moved to stroke Andrews's hair. "You're doing really well," I whispered, "he's half way in already. Push again, hard this time," and I nodded to Alan. One big push, one loud 'ow!' and Alan was right in. "Yes!" he said, "you took it all, Andrew. I'll keep still, deep inside, and you can get used to the feeling. When you tell me, I'll start fucking you properly." I went on stroking Andrews's hair, and bent to kiss him again. I could get used to kissing this boy, I thought, he kisses nicely. I reached down to his cock. It had been soft again while it had been painful, but it responded to my touch. The worst was over. "Yes, Alan, I'm ready now. Fuck me." Alan was wise enough to make it a fairly gentle fuck - there would be fierce fucks later if Andrew wanted it that way, but this one would be a slow and gradual build-up. Alan would cum inside Andrew, but he would try to make Andrew cum as well. I beckoned Tim over and indicated he should take over wanking duty while I stayed glued to Andrew's mouth. Andrew was about to be overwhelmed by sensations in his three most erogenous zones. Alan fucked him slowly for five minutes - far longer than I had expected - before he began to accelerate. Tim knew the signs and increased his wanking rate, but Andrew was closer than Tim had bargained for, and his cock poured a stream of cum high up onto his belly, and another, and another. As he had cum up me pretty generously the effect on his balls of being fucked was spectacular indeed. Alan wasn't far behind, and he plunged deep inside, deeper that he had been before, and groaned as he unloaded pulse after pulse of spunk into Andrew's arse. Andrew's arse clamped in a reflex, causing Alan to gasp and squirt another pulse of spunk. "Oh fuck, Alan, oh fuck, oh fuck," was all Andrew could say. Alan pulled out and Tim, who had a quick look to make sure it was shit-free, soon had his cock clean again. Father Corrigan had taught us well! Ten minutes later Alan was back to normal, neatly clad in his uniform. "We'll do this again," I said, "but we can't do it every night - there'll be talk. But we'll do it again, and often." "I'd like that," said Andrew, "thank you all. I'll always remember tonight," and he was gone. "Do you think he'll join Sir's gang?" said Alan. "It's far too early," I said, "all we know is that he likes fucking with boys. We've no idea what he'd feel about sex with a man. I think we should be very careful about how we go with him." I asked the other two, "has either of you made any progress with your targets? I've got Charlie, Dave and Roger on my list. Dave is very proud of the fact that he's given up wanking as being childish, so he's out. Roger is one of the Cabin 2 wankers and he told me he's happy to play with as many cocks as he can. I don't know how keen he would be for a man though, but I think I can find out." "How?" asked Tim. "I think we should invite Cabin 2 in here on the last night for a session." "Won't Sir be cross?" asked Alan. "He wasn't when I talked to him about it earlier. He knows that the more of us there are in his gang the more money he'll make. I will try to get him to fix something for the other two cabins so that they're somewhere else that evening. If they wonder why they're being given a treat he can tell them that our cabins will get the treat on the next voyage." "You've got it all thought out, haven't you," said Alan. It was true: I'd spend most of today figuring it all out. "I'm planning to have some time with Charlie tomorrow. What about yours, Alan?" Alan took up the story. "I've got Sam, Harry and Chris. We know Chris is no good, and Sam's in Cabin 2, so we'll find out about him later. All I know about Harry is that he's got 8 inches. I'll try to find out more tomorrow if I can." Tim had Andrew, Peter and Stewart. "Andrew we know about, but he's in Cabin 4, so he won't be at our party. That's a pity, but it can't be helped, I suppose," he said. "No, it would look odd if one of them wasn't at whatever treat Sir cooks up," I said, "go on, Tim." "Peter's in 2, and that just leaves Stewart. I'll try to see him tomorrow." It was almost 11 and all three of us were whacked. By mutual agreement we went to our own beds, our balls being placed under no further strain. I fell asleep, to dream of a steamy session with Charlie. Would it come true? ***** Our 0915 session with Sir produced instructions for Alan to go to 455 at 1400, for Tim to go to 721 at 1530 with a full bladder and for me to go to 636 at 1600. "We're going to be short on the elevators for a while in the afternoon," he said, "but I'll get someone to cover." Sir asked about Slim, and I told him what had occurred. Since I had told him all this yesterday the description was really for Alan and Tim's benefit. Alan then described what had happened in 962. "He's about 50 and very hairy. Medium-sized cut cock. He wanted me to suck his cock while I played with his balls. Then he fucked me from behind and came in me. He lasted about two minutes. After he'd come he had no interest in anything else - he didn't make me come. I was out in about 15 minutes." "Thank you, Alan. I hope today's client is more fun for you." Alan grinned, "I hope so too, Sir." We were then dismissed. I had various errands to carry out, and I was glad that I didn't have a client until this afternoon. As we bell-boys were employed to carry messages, as well as to man the elevators, there was no reason why we should not appear in any part of the ship, although if I was delivering a message I wouldn't have much chance to have a conversation. This needed careful thought. I went to the cabin and wrote two messages. One said 'Meet me in the crew toilets on this deck in 5 minutes', and I sealed it in an envelope with a tiny 'A' on the back. The other, in an envelope with a 'B' said 'Come to my office at 1110. Wait outside; do not knock. Joseph Corrigan.' If I had to use envelope B I'd have to be outside Sir's at 1105 to forestall the fictional summons. I headed off to the pool in search of Larry, bearing envelopes as evidence of my message-bearing duty. When I got to the pool there were several passengers there and, to my relief, Larry was the only crew member visible. As I approached he gave me a welcoming smile. "Hello, Patrick, it's nice to see you," he said. I gave him what I hoped he would interpret as a conspiratorial grin and said quietly, "it's even nicer to see you, Larry," and before he could reply I gave him envelope A and went in the direction of the appointed trysting place. I hadn't used this toilet before, so I was taking a big risk, but when I got there (the doors were discreetly signed 'Crew Only') and went in I found three cubicles and a short urinal - just room for two. I went into a cubicle and waited. Sure enough, five minutes later the door opened. A whispered 'Patrick' meant that it was Larry. I came out of the cubicle. "What's up?" asked Larry. "I don't have much time," I said, "but I think you fancy me, and I certainly fancy you." "Yes," he said, "I do fancy you, but we can't do anything here." "I know, but if you do me a big favour I'll do anything you want tomorrow." "Sounds good," he said with a wide smile, "what's the favour?" "I want to bring another bell-boy up to the pool tonight - just the two of us - for an illicit swim. Can you make sure it's unlocked?" "I don't see why not. The pool closes at 2200 and we clean and tidy after then. We're done well before 2300. What time did you want?" "How about 2330, in case there's any delay?" "Fine. Use the crew door - I'll show you where it is. I'll leave it unlocked. Don't touch anything - it has to look as thought nothing has happened since we locked up." "Don't worry - we'll bring towels and I'll make sure it's just as we found it when we leave. Thanks, Larry, I owe you a big treat." "You do indeed, Patrick. Come up at this time tomorrow and I'll let you know about where and when." I grinned, "it'll be fun, Larry," and I kissed his lips. I was back on elevator duty two minutes later. I had a very quick lunch, in and out in about 8 minutes. I had another 'message' to deliver, this time to the main galley. Taking a message there was riskier, but I reckoned I could carry it off if I was questioned. Before lunch I had rubbed out the '1110' in envelope B and replaced it with '1440'. By then the galley staff would be under less pressure. It was now 1120. I went in search of Gary. I knew that with the chefs in the middle of preparing the passengers' lunch there was no way he would be able to stop to talk to me, even for a minute, so giving him the envelope smartly and efficiently would be what was required. I went in through the staff door and looked around. I saw him at the other end of the galley and went towards him. "What are you up to?" queried one of the senior chefs. "Message for Larry," I said, "I won't keep him." "What's it about?" "I've no idea, I'm just the boy bringing it." "Hmph. There he is," and I was dismissed, with any luck unremembered. I gave Gary the message, smiling as instructed by Sir. I got a big smile back, "thanks, Patrick." I was unreasonably thrilled that he remembered my name. I was tempted to say 'see you later', but managed to keep up the pretence. Two errands successfully concluded: three more to go. My afternoon would need careful timing. I had to be outside Sir's office at 1435 and I expected my business with Gary would take no more than 5 minutes. Cabin 4 - and therefore Charlie - had a break, as we did in Cabin 1, from 1430 till 1500, so I needed to talk to Charlie at 1450 at the latest. The final errand - Roger - was less urgent. After all, he was already up for as many cocks as he could get his hands on, so fixing something with him could wait. I spent the time until my break taking passengers up and down in my elevator. During the three hours I reckon there were three, maybe four, men who spent a little longer than they need have done smiling at, and thanking, the elevator boy. Two of them made more than one trip, but on no occasion was I alone with any of them. Naturally I couldn't make the first move, much as I wanted to in the case of one of them, so it would be up to them to find a way of speaking to me with no-one else there. It amused me to think how much planning they would have to do. Slim had managed it pretty efficiently, after all. By 1415 my mind was with Alan, and I was curious to know whether Sir's hope that Alan would be having more fun was coming true. At 1430 I went quickly to Sir's office to await Gary. As expected, with Sir's reputation for punctuality being well-known, Gary was early. "Hello, Patrick," he said, "are we both in trouble?" "I'm sorry, Gary," I said, "but he doesn't want to see you. I invented the message as it was the only way I could think of to get a few minutes alone with you." Gary's eyes widened. "What are you up to, Patrick, you horny little bugger?" I was glad that we had reached that level of intimacy as quickly as we had - it would make things a lot easier. "You fancy me, and I fancy you, right?" He nodded. "And I'm pretty sure that Phil does too." He nodded again. This was going very smoothly. "I want to have a party in our cabin with some of the other bell-boys on the last night. Can you provide us with some food and drink? If you can then I'll get Phil can bring it." "Sounds very naughty, but I expect you're very naughty when you put your mind to it." "Too right, Gary, and what you get out of it is unrestrained naughtiness with me - just the two of us. Phil gets the same. The party will be just boys, but maybe on another voyage things might be different. Are you up for it?" "What happens if I get found out?" "I think I can square it with Corrigan. It's our first crossing and you saw how keen they were to give us boys a treat the night before we sailed. If I ask him I think he'll be happy for a boys-only feast. OK?" He agreed, and I said I would find a way to let him know that it was OK with Sir, and what we would like. Time was pressing. "Thanks, Gary," I said and, there being nobody around, he got a quick kiss too. I ran to Cabin 4 and knocked quietly. Charlie was the only one there - good. "Listen," I said, "you know how interested you were the other day about 'fun' and you seemed keen to have a bit of mischief?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "It's so boring in here," he said, "you could cut the atmosphere with a knife." "Well," I said, "I'm going to sneak up to the pool tonight for a secret swim after they've locked up. It's the only chance I'll get of a swim, and it'd be fun if you came too." Charlie's soul was in torment: his Calvinist side instructed him that doing anything so clearly against the rules would consign him to eternal damnation (although a Catholic boy like me wasn't altogether sure about whether eternal damnation figured in Calvinist ideology: it certain did in mine. Father Corrigan had drilled that into me, albeit not while other drilling was taking place), while his normal 16-year-old side said 'oh fuck it, it'll be fun'. Again, I had no idea whether Charlie's 16-year-old side's vocabulary included such profanity, but if it didn't then another opportunity for wickedness presented itself. If I was lucky Charlie's word-hoard would be stretched along with his appetite for sex, and maybe even his arsehole. But one thing at a time. Getting him in the pool was the first step towards all these enticing objectives. I awaited the resolution of Charlie's inner turmoil. "Och, aye, it'll be fun," he said, reverting to his native tongue in his excitement, "I hope we don't get caught." I told him to go to bed as usual, but to get up at exactly 2320 and go to the toilet. "If anyone's awake tell them you've got to shit." "Oh, they'll be asleep all right, snoring away, don't worry." I told him I'd meet him in the toilets at 2320, and to bring a towel. "In my pyjamas?" "Yes, of course, you're not supposed to be in uniform at that time of night." It would be risky going to the pool, but that was part of the fun. As it was officially closed there would be no passengers in that part of the ship. Nowadays, of course, with CCTV cameras all over the place illicit trips about a ship would be well-nigh impossible, but in the simpler days on 1936 we were unlikely to be noticed. By 1500 I was back in my elevator, dutifully smiling and, I hoped, dutifully giving the appearance of being always available to those who might be interested. Soon Tim would be enjoying the sensation of emptying his full bladder all over Slim. And maybe, just maybe, both of us would be having that pleasure before landfall. At 1530 I went to shower and, vaselined up, I presented myself at Mr Really-Keen's Stateroom at 1600 on the dot. Mustn't keep a client waiting! =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 9 as we find out what lies behind the door of Stateroom 636, and what happens at the midnight swim. Would a Calvinist and a Catholic find common ground? 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. ===============================================================================