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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. fty/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 30 Despite our energetic day yesterday Charlie and I woke early. As had happened before we spent a few minutes just looking at each other, happy to be where we were with the boy we loved. Life was good. At 0700 Sir reminded us that the routine on the last day of the crossing was different. “Be here at 1700. Cabins 1 and 2, be at the canteen at 2000 for your tour of the bridge and the engine room. It will be another busy day, so be alert. Americans are likely to want to talk about arriving in England, and if you can’t answer their questions then refer them to the Purser. But I’m sure you can cope with most things they might ask.” We all trooped off to breakfast, excited that we would be seeing England again the next day. At 0915 I was agog to hear Tim’s story about his client, and why it had been so funny. Before we gave our reports Sir said that as Roger was still in bed there was a vacancy on the evening’s tour. “Charlie, could you bear to see the engines again?” Charlie was delighted – he hadn’t expected a treat like that, although I have to admit that it wasn’t the engines themselves that filled him with joy. “Well now, what have you all been up to?” Sam and Alan reported on their 2-hour piss session. It had involved an elderly American whose sole requirement was to have ‘two swell English lads’ piss on him as often as their bladders would allow. They had arrived, as bidden, with full bladders and were liberally supplied with soft drinks to keep themselves topped up. The client hadn’t pissed on them, or touched them, and had had no interest in sex with them. This had cost him $200. The six of us marvelled at such profligacy. Sam said that they had asked the client if he wished to see the two of them fuck, but he had declined witnessing such acts. Alan added that they had been so frustrated by his lack of interest (beyond being pissed on) that they came straight back to the cabin and fucked each other. He hoped that Sir didn’t mind their doing so on Cunard’s time. Sir agreed that their behaviour had been understandable, and agreed that Americans were weird. Peter had been fucked by his client, an agreeable New Yorker of around 30. The client had been happy to suck Peter’s cock afterwards and had willingly swallowed Peter’s spunk. “Then he fucked me again,” he said, “only this time he couldn’t come. I told him it didn’t matter and that I’d really enjoyed it. He seemed so sad that I sat and stroked his cock until it got hard again. ‘Shall we try again?’ he said, and I told him I’d like to get it really hard first. I got behind him and stuck three fingers up his arse and felt for his prostate while massaging his balls with the other. As I’d hoped he came almost immediately. He was so pleased: I don’t think anyone had done that to him before. He gave me $20 and said I was a life-saver. It’s nice to be appreciated.” I then told them about Zizi, and managed to make them see the funny side, and then Hank, about whom there wasn’t much of interest to say. “Now Tim,” said Sir, “what tales do you have?” This should be goo, I thought. “My client was from somewhere in Europe -” “Italy,” put in Sir – I saw his passport, remember.” “- and he was very slim and fit – about 30, I’d say. He was in a dressing gown when I got there and he told me to get my clothes off and lie on my back on the bed. He’s put a big towel down, to catch any drips, I thought. So far it was normal enough. When I was on the bed he put a hanky over my eyes, and it was thick enough that I couldn’t see a thing. ‘What are going to do?’ I said. I didn’t like where this might be going, remembering Alan and all. ‘Don’t worry, little one,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to hurt you. But I don’t want you to see what I’m doing.’ I didn’t have much choice, so I just smiled from under my blindfold. I heard him get something from the fridge, and I wondered what it might be. I didn’t want ice-cold water on me. But it wasn’t water. He put something cold on my nipples, something firm but not hard. Then he made a ring round whatever they were, these things on my nipples, with something warm. The warm stuff was slippery, and I could feel it begin to trickle down my ataköy escort sides. That was what the towel must have been for. Then he started to stroke my cock, which until then hadn’t been interested, but it soon perked up and when he put his mouth round it I firmed up completely. ‘What a fine cock you have, little one,’ he said. Little, my arse, I thought, but I didn’t say anything. My fine cock then had something put over it – cold and wet. This was really weird. What the hell was he doing to me? ‘Do you know what is happening?’ he said. ‘No, I don’t,’ I said. ‘Would you like to see/?’ ‘Yes, if you want me too,’ – even at moments like this I remembered that a good whore is compliant. He whipped off the hanky and I was treated to the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” He paused for effect. “Go on, Tim,” I said. “I had two strawberries on my tits, with cream round them, and a pineapple ring round my cock.” As Tim had anticipated this was greeted by five howls of laughter, even Charlie, who had known this for almost 24 hours, found it hilarious. I noticed that Sir was smiling too. “What did he do?” asked Peter. “What do you think – he ate them … very very slowly, and with lots of unnecessary licking and slurping. I loved it, although it was bloody hard not to burst out laughing. Sir, is this something lots of men like to do?” Sir gravely informed him that although he, Sir, had heard of such requirements he had not encountered them before. “I’m sure you did everything the client required, Tim.” “Oh yes, I did that all right. When he’d finished the strawberries he attacked the pineapple ring and – well – one thing led to another down there. This time I provided the cream.” More gales of laughter. I will say this for Tim: he’s a good story-teller. “And that was all? asked Sir. “Yes. He didn’t fuck me, and as far as I could see he didn’t come. Very strange.” “But very healthy,” said Sir, and we all fell about again. “Now,” said Sir, “about today and tomorrow. When you all come at 1700 I will tell cabins 3 and 4 to stay behind. That’s when I’ll tell them about their ‘promotion’ and what their new responsibilities will be, and where they will live on board. I will arrange for them to move to their new quarters tonight while you lot are having your reward, and I’ll see that they get a small treat by way of saying goodbye. Tomorrow you’ll be on duty at the Purser’s office from 0700, as you were in New York, for any last minute running errands. The ship should be empty of passengers by 1030 and the new ones won’t board until 1300. During that time you must sort out the cabin arrangements you want to make. I will get two men to help move beds. I don’t think I need to ask you how you plan to pair off? Alan, Peter, are you happy with that?” Peter answered for them. “We’ve worked out what was likely and we talked about it earlier. Neither of us feels the same way about the other one as Charlie and Patrick, or Sam and Tim do, but we like each other and we’re very happy to share, and we like what we do in bed.” “Good,” said Sir, “I’m glad. You’ll be in cabin 3, Sam and Tim in 2 and Charlie and Patrick in 1. Two beds in each. Cabin 4 will be available for any entertaining of passengers who wish to play away from home, as it were. I will see to that after the three who live there now have moved tonight. Any questions?” I asked whether we would have the chance to say goodbye to the other five if they weren’t going to be told until after 1700. “Yes, because they’ll be back full of themselves because they’re being promoted, and no doubt they’ll want to share that news with you.” Sir smiled wryly, “I expect some of them will be particularly pleased to show their superiority. You can say goodbye then. And make it real. This is all a charade, and I expect you to play along. Now, before we get there we have today’s business. Only you, Patrick. You are expected in 820 at 1200. Who knows, you might even get lunch.” “Or be lunch,” I heard my evil twin mutter. I couldn’t resist muttering back something about a fruit salad. “Now now, you two, set an example to your colleagues. Now go.” I spent the rest of the morning in my elevator and, to my delight, James and Bertie got on at one point. I knew that I ought not to greet James, but saying ‘hello’ to a boy my age seemed not to break any rules. “Hello, Patrick,” said Bertie, “we’ve had such a lot of fun.” “I’m glad to hear that,” I said gravely, largely for the benefit of the elderly pair of Americans who had got on at the same time. James reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and ceremoniously handed Bertie a $20 bill. “Here, Bertie, give – Patrick, did you say? – this to thank him for all he’s done taking merter escort you up and down on the ship.” It was all Bertie and I could do not to burst out laughing, but at least when you’re given a $20 tip you’re allowed to smile. “Thank you – Bertie, did you say? – and thank you, Sir.” Whether James has done this for fun, or to give me $20, or to imply to the two Americans that they too should reward me for doing my job remained a mystery, but the American husband coughed up $20 as well, and he was thanked as warmly – well, nearly – as Bertie and James had been. At 1130 I went for a shower and a greasing, and at 1200 I was knocking gently at 820. He’d waited a long time to do more than feel my cock through my trousers. I would soon find out what he really wanted. I knew he was American from our brief encounter in the elevator, but Sir hadn’t given me any special instruction, so I knew it was going to be what we would come to call plain vanilla. Mind you, plain vanilla was fine by me. “I’m Patrick, what do I call you?” “That’s amusing, Patrick, because I’m Paddy. I want you to suck my cock to get it good and hard, then I want to fuck you. Is that OK with you?” I told him that I was just fine with that, but didn’t he want any little extras – it was, after all, the last day of the crossing. “What little extras might you be offering, Patrick?” I told him that I had had good reports from clients up whose arses I had put my fingers. Paddy hadn’t expected such forwardness, but he thought about it. “OK, Patrick, why don’t we try that first.” I didn’t interpret it as a question. I got him to lie on his back. You’ll have guessed from my offering to get acquainted with his arse that he wasn’t hairy – a bit, but not jungly. I got the vaseline from my pocket and put it ready to hand. First a dry finger along his perineum to see how sensitive he was down there. His balls twitched nicely – good! Next a vaselined finger teasing his hole, then slowly inserted. His balls twitched again. The first finger rolled around a bit but I was careful to avoid his prostate – not yet, Patrick. Fingers two and three stretched him nicely – “fuck, that’s good, Patrick, you’ve done this before” – and went in stretching as I separated my fingers, touching three widely separated bits of the inside of his arse – sorry, ass. “Can you take more?” I said. He nodded, so finger four went in. It was now that I could roll my knuckles in there, each one poking against his prostate as I moved them round. It wasn’t just his balls which were twitching now – his whole body was trembling. “More?” I said, “can you take a fist?” “Why not try?” he muttered, “you’ve got quite small hands.” This is why having a 14-year-old makes so much sense. Our cocks generally aren’t all that big, but neither are our fists. I removed my fingers, eliciting a reflex sigh from Paddy, and covered my hand with vaseline. In I went again, all four fingers, and I made the wedge. “Ready?” “Ready.” Slowly I pushed, watching the lips of his arse widen and reach out to suck me in. There was some resistance, so I got him to push, and when he did my fist plopped in and disappeared. Paddy’s sigh was very satisfying. “Further in,” he muttered. I went as far in as I could, my fist meeting the bend in his colon with my elbow still some way from disappearing up him. “I’ve changed my mind,” he moaned, “I need to jizz with you still up me. Use your other hand.” This was going to be easy money! I’m not brilliant at wanking with my left hand, but his urgent need to come meant that he wasn’t paying a great deal of attention to my technique – all he wanted was to explode. I therefore set about delaying the inevitable as best I could. I kept my fist from rotating, merely fucking him with a slow in and out motion. I timed my strokes of his cock to go with my fisting: one up stroke of his cock coinciding with a withdrawal of my fist, and vice versa. I kept this slow rhythm up for three or four minutes, but then his twitching became more urgent. “Near, are you?” He nodded. I thought that knuckle rotation was now called for. I pulled my fist back so that it was nearly out, then screwed it round left and right really quickly. His balls twitched mightily, delivering their precious load into his cock and spouting out of it onto his face and chest. His cries of delight were music to a whore’s ears. The whore stopped moving his hands. The client opened his eyes, tight shut for some minutes, looked at the whore and smiled. “You are something, Patrick.” The happy whore removed his hands and bent forward to clean the client’s cock. As this process took a few minutes the client had the opportunity further to compliment the whore on the excellence bahçeşehir escort of the orgasm which had been produced. The whore sucked and licked on, gratified to note that the client’s cock was beginning to show further signs of interest. “I reckon you could get it up soon and fuck me,” I said, “I’d like that, Paddy.” “I’d like it too,” he said, “but give me time, OK?” Reader, I gave him 20 minutes, during which time I continued to encourage his erection, then he fucked me from behind and came noisily up my arse. When he withdrew exhausted he rolled onto his back and invited me to wank myself – “you deserve it” – onto his balls. I did – and they twitched. Naturally all the cum that was covering his balls, as well as that leaking from my arse, wasn’t allowed to go to waste. When all was safely dealt with he pointed me to the shower. “We don’t want you reeking of sex as you go down in your elevator.” I did as he told me, but the idea of going round reeking of sex wasn’t as unattractive to me as it clearly was to him. When I emerged sweetly fragrant (he had some very exotic lotion) I put my uniform back on. He was still lying naked and, if truth were told, still reeking of sex. He reached into the drawer beside his bed. “I paid your guy $75, but you went a lot further, so here’s something for yourself. Don’t tell him.” I thanked him and, since the folded stuff he put in my hand felt fatter than just one note, I leaned over to kiss him. “I really enjoyed that, Paddy, it’s not every day I get to fist someone. Thank you,” and I turned to go. “Thanks, kid.” When I got outside I examined what was in my hand – $40! And plain vanilla it hadn’t been, not by a long chalk. After I’d showered again and had a bite to eat there was nothing else to do, apart from intense elevator duty, until we all paraded at 1700 for what our group knew was the last time. How would the others react, I wondered. Sir said, “You’ll be glad to know that Roger is doing well. He’ll be going home to recuperate for several weeks. That gives me the chance to make some changes in your duties. The first two voyages were always going to be about discovering where staff were needed, and moving crew members to take account of what was found. Some of you will be moving to other duties when we reach Southampton tomorrow. Until then I want most of you at the Purser’s office, as we did in New York, from 0700 tomorrow. Cabins 1 and 2 – you will have your tour of the bridge and engine room today: please assemble at the canteen at 2000. Cabins 3 and 4, please stay behind now, apart from Charlie. The rest of you, go. Enjoy your treat,” and he smiled as we left. Behind his closed door promotion would be dangled before Dave, Harry, Stewart, Andrew and Chris. We six sinners had gone back to cabin 1 to await the return – which we expected to be noisy – of the favoured ones. After 15 minutes they could be heard. I opened our door. “Well?” I said, “what was all that about?” Andrew came in and closed the door. The rest of them went to their own cabins. Andrew explained what Sir had told them. “We’re all being promoted to junior assistants,” he said, “Stewart, Chris and I are to learn stateroom duties, and the other two are to train as something in the galley.” “Will you enjoy that?” asked Alan. “No idea, but it’s promotion, so it’s got to be good. I’ll get an extra 5/- a week.” Since we were picking up about a hundred times that it wasn’t difficult to express pleasure at his good fortune. “The bugger of it is that we’re all going to live somewhere else, and we’re going to move tonight while you’re all having the treat. How come you get it twice, Charlie?” Before Charlie could answer I put in quickly, “we can’t tell you now, but if you sneak down here at 2300 I’ll tell you.” I got a very strange look from some of my colleagues, but Tim grinned. “Yes, Andrew, that’ll be good. We can say goodbye to you properly before you bugger off to be important.” Andrew picked up what was being offered. “Yes, I’d like that. I promise I won’t be important before I turn back into a frog at midnight,” and he went out to join the others in their good fortune. “What was that about?” asked Peter. “Wait and see,” said Tim, “he could easily have been one of us, but Sir decided six was enough.” “Will you tell him about us?” said Charlie. “No, I don’t think so,” I said, “but if he guesses then there’s no great harm done. If he’s looking after staterooms it might be useful to have a contact on the inside,” and I told them about Gus. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 31 as the voyage ends and we prepare to sail west again. 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 net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

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