queen-mary-bell-boys-31

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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 31 By 1945 when we came off duty we were excited about the evening’s treat. Sophisticated in matters of sex we might have been, but we were still young and innocent enough to look forward to seeing the parts of Queen Mary which others don’t see. Charlie had seen it all only a week earlier, but he was just as keen as the rest of us. “You’ll really like it,” he said, as though we needed any encouragement. At 2000 the six of us were in the canteen where a table had been laid for us, quite unlike the usual eating arrangement we had every day. We were sitting at a circular table: Alan, Peter, Sam, Tim, Charlie, me. Phil appeared with another man I hadn’t seen before. Tim greeted him. “Hi, James.” I remembered that Tim had told me, right at the beginning when we were exploring the ship before the maiden voyage, that a barman called James seemed interested. Was this the same one? Phil and he brought our food – lovely tender juicy steak, the sort of food you could only dream of in a working-class home in Liverpool, and the six of us dived in. Even though we’d eaten well on the ship, this was something special. To my delight Phil then produced a bottle and poured red wine into our glasses. “I’m not giving you much,” he said, “or they won’t let you on the bridge.” He winked, “maybe there might be some left when you get back though.” Boys our age didn’t know that eating such a meal slowly, and drinking the wine slowly, would increase the pleasure; no, we just wolfed everything. Sophistication was a stranger to our table habits. James came in and cleared the plates, and Phil followed him, putting a dish of strawberries on the table. “I’m sure you can help yourselves,” he said, “there’s cream in the jug.” Tim was in fits at the sight of strawberries and the rest of us had difficulty in not giggling with him. Thank God there wasn’t any pineapple. When the strawberries had all gone Phil and James came back and brought two more chairs. “Make room,” said Phil, and he sat between Alan and Peter. James sat between Tim and Charlie. What was all this about? There was no-one else anywhere near, but Phil still spoke quietly. “Patrick knows all this, but the rest of you maybe don’t. I know all about the six of you and how Corrigan fixes things with passengers who want boys. I run a similar thing for passengers who want men. Larry, one of the pool stewards, runs it with me, as well as James and another barman Vic. Word quickly gets round queer passengers early in a voyage that other queers use the bar on Deck 3, and that’s where James and Vic work. Just like Corrigan’s team of boys I have a team of men. You don’t need to know who they are, and they don’t know who you are. One day it will be fun to get some of my men to have a session with you six – that is, if you would like to – Patrick can organise it.” There were nods round the table. “Good, but it won’t be soon. Corrigan and I want to let things settle for a few more crossings. Now that the other six, no, five, boys are being shifted to other duties your area of the ship is going to become quite busy, as you are. Fine sexy boys like you are going to be in great demand.” Six fine sexy boys liked the sound of that. Four fine sexy boys each found that a hand was now on his cock. James nodded at Phil. “I see that four of you are hard already.” “Five,” said Sam. “Six,” from me. “Good,” went on Phil, “we all know where we stand then. Now calm down, and in a few minutes I’ll take you up to the bridge.” Hands left cocks. Phil took us to a part of the ship to which we’d never been. This was the Holy of Holies. He knocked quietly and led us in. “Here they are,” he said to a young officer with gold braid on his sleeves. I caught sight of a fleeting wink exchanged between them: was this officer in on Phil and Larry’s arrangement? Surely not … but then it occurred to me that not all queer passengers would be after a bit of rough from below decks – some would surely wish the company of a gentleman. Our junior officer was about 25 and strikingly good-looking. A likely player then. I filed the information away for another time. For now I would be an excited 14-year-old. The bridge was huge. None of us had any idea how Queen Mary was steered, or knew anything about basic stuff like knowing where to aim the ship so that we got to where we were going. We asked all the silly questions and, to their credit, the officers on duty answered patiently. After 20 minutes we knew a great deal more. “OK, lads, we’ve pestered these gentlemen enough,” said Phil, “it’s time to go to the engine room.” We thanked the two officers, one of whom said, “they’ll try to tell you down there that they’re ataköy escort the most important people on this ship. Don’t you believe them. Who do you think are the most important?” Charlie had done this before, so he knew the answer, but he kept quiet. It was Tim who said, “the passengers.” “Well done, lad,” said a gruff voice almost covered in gold braid who hadn’t spoken before, “what’s your name?” “Tim Mulloy, sir.” “Well Tim, you have a sharp mind. I was a cabin boy like you forty years ago. Maybe in forty years time you’ll be a Captain.” “I hope so, sir,” said Tim, overawed by the fact that God had, for all practical purposes, spoken to him. “Off you go then,” said God, and off we all scurried, murmuring our thanks. “Did Charlie brief you?” I whispered as we made our way down into the bowels of the ship. “Of course.” The engine room was vast, noisy and full of men stripped to the waist. I think the six of us liked the engine room. Whether any of the men in there liked us wasn’t clear, but there were one or two of them who smiled encouragingly at Phil. If they were part of his circus then a queer passenger who wanted solid muscle would be very happy. Queen Mary was becoming more interesting by the hour. When we’d seen all that was to be seen of the engines (and the crew) Phil led us out again. He pointed us towards our accommodation. “That’s it. You all know everything now. If any of you need me, I’m the junior butler on Deck 9, but it’s best if you talk to Corrigan. Good night.” We all thanked him and Charlie, Tim and I, who weren’t strangers to him, gave him a quick kiss. The others were a bit surprised by this but nobody said anything. We got back to our cabins. Cabin 3 was empty, as was cabin 4. They had gone. I told the others that Andrew was coming for a farewell session at 2300 and that I was sure there was no limit on the number of bell boys who might fit into cabin 1 while he was visiting. “Why Andrew?” asked Peter. I explained that on the maiden voyage he and Tim and I had had a very satisfying time, but that he was the only one of the other six who had joined any of us. “Does he know about us?” asked Sam. I said that I didn’t think so, and we should not tell him. “Let him think what they all think – that they’ve been promoted and we’re stuck with being bell boys.” “I still think it’s risky,” said Peter, “but it’s up to you.” “Alan and I have sucked him off, and Alan’s fucked him. He’s fucked me. I don’t think anything’s going to happen tonight which makes him suspicious that anything’s going on other than a major fuckfest with six of us. Go next door if you like – any of you. If seven is too many then so long as there’s enough of us here to wear him out I can’t see a problem. But think of this. Will you ever have another chance to be part of a seven-boy orgy again?” Peter grinned. “OK, you’ve convinced me.” It was Tim’s bright idea to shove the three beds together to make a platform of suitable size for the multiple couplings we all expected to take place. At 2300 the door opened and Andrew appeared. We were all stripped for action, so he was a bit surprised to see so much flesh greeting him. “Come in, promoted one,” said Tim, “I expect you know all these naked low-grade types. Three of them haven’t had the pleasure of seeing you in your naked glory, so get your fucking stuff off and let’s get on with it.” “Nice to see you too, Tim,” was Andrew’s swift rejoinder, and he soon had his clothes in a heap in the corner. “What’s all this about?” “When Alan, Tim and I messed around with you on the way across to New York we all enjoyed it, and since you’re the only one of the four getting promoted that have fucked any of us I thought we’d have a last fling, to say goodbye. From the state of your cock you think that’s a good idea too.” It was true: Andrew’s cock, like the six belonging to the home team, was keen to take to the lists. “I know I’m really important now,” said Andrew with a twinkle in his eye, “but I don’t think I can fuck all six of you – not properly anyway. Four, five maybe … ” His remarks were brought to an early conclusion when a well-aimed pillow struck him. “We thought of that,” said Sam, “so we’ve devised a way of sharing your mighty body.” He produced six matches and held them fan-wise. “Three are shorter. We six will pick a match. The long matches get to fuck you, you get to fuck the short matches. The person who’s going to get fucked can choose to suck the other one’s cock instead. We’re all happy with that – what about you?” Andrew indicated that the arrangement was one with which he was, for the moment at least, happy. “I can’t stay all night.” “Why not?” asked Charlie. Andrew didn’t have an answer. I pointed out that if he was too shagged out by all the fucking then we could probably muster the strength to carry him to his new quarters, provided he could, in his delirium, remember where they were. “Oh, fuck off, Patrick.” So that was settled. We arranged ourselves to make the all-important draw. “We’ll do this in order,” Sam announced smugly, “biggest cock first,” and he drew a match: long. Peter drew long; Charlie drew short; Alan drew long. That meant Tim and I were short, so we didn’t have merter escort the usual fraternal argument about whose cock was the larger. It was Andrew’s turn to make some rules now. “If you lot are going to choose whether it’s your mouth or your arse that gets the attention, I want to choose the order you perform in.” This was accepted. “I want to leave Alan and Patrick to last, and Tim before them. So the order will be Charlie, Sam, Peter, Tim, Alan then Patrick.” Alan pointed out that he and I, being at the end of the queue, might find ourselves short-changed. “In that case two of you can double up,” offered Alan, “I don’t mind being spit-roasted.” This now required careful planning, and after some debate it was agreed that Andrew would fuck Charlie, then Sam and Peter would spit-roast him. Then we’d see how we felt about the next stage. All this planning had led to the loss of seven erections. Alan wasn’t the only one stroking his cock, however, and as space was cleared for Andrew to fuck Charlie a ring of spectators, all with nice firm cocks, gathered round. Charlie, being expert in these matters now, automatically got on all fours and pushed his arse in the air. “Fuck, Charlie, you’re really up for it,” muttered Andrew. Charlie surprised all those present (except Mulloys) by his reply. “Too fucking right, big boy, now fill me up.” “Well, my wee Teuchter, here’s a present frae Glesca,” said Andrew as he lined himself up. Andrew got down behind Charlie and licked his crack. “Fuck, Charlie, your arse is greased all ready for me.” “Of course,” said Charlie, “a good host always makes things nice for visitors.” Oh, Charlie, I thought to myself, you’ve come a long way in ten days. Andrew decided that Charlie needed no further preparation, so he lined his cock up at Charlie’s arsehole and slowly pushed in. He met a bit of resistance at first, but Charlie relaxed and soon Andrew was buried deep in. “Like that, Charlie, eh?” “Yes, but I’ll like it a lot more when you start fucking me.” “Go on, Andrew, he’s begging for it,” said Alan. I noticed that Sam and Tim had no wish to remain mere observers, and they had moved to a 69 position. In the time it took them to do so Peter and Alan had exchanged a look, and they too were soon similarly conjoined. I was the spare prick at this particular wedding, but it wasn’t going to be for long. The size of the three beds allowed me to squeeze in under Charlie’s body and put my lips round his cock. All seven of us were now happily busy. Who would get there first? Andrew was fucking Charlie fast and energetically, and I wasn’t surprised when he groaned and sank himself deep inside to empty his balls. “Yes, Charlie, yes, aaaaah!” and he collapsed onto Charlie’s back, he in turn collapsing on me. Luckily my teeth did no harm. From my position at the bottom of the heap I could just make out ragged applause from the other four, who had broken off their numerical exercise to witness Andrew’s first cum. Andrew’s cock slipped out, as did most of his cum. In the ordinary course of events I would have been down there getting as much of that protein into my stomach as I could, but this was not an ordinary evening’s fucking, and having a wet arse and a sticky cock would add to the general enjoyment. Sam and Peter moved into position to carry out the next part of the deal. “You’re going to have one at each end,” said Peter, “which of us do you want to fuck you.” Andrew looked at both cocks. There wasn’t really much contest, but he was tactful enough to give the impression that it was a difficult decision. “Sam up my arse and I’ll suck Peter,” he said. Positions were changed and Andrew knelt, awaiting invasion. I lay back to watch, Charlie in my arms. I leant to kiss him. To my delight he whispered “there’s cum leaking out of my arse. Can you reach down and rub it in where it’ll do the most good?” Charlie’s balls were soon smeared with Andrew’s cum, and there was enough left over for mine as well. “What’s a teuchter?” I asked. He whispered that it was what Lowland Scots called Highlanders if they wanted to insult them. In the context in which it had been used it seemed entirely appropriate. I cuddled him tight. I needed to remember that word and indeed, over the next 80 and more years, he was my wee teuchter in moments of particular tenderness. While all this was going on Sam and Peter were well on the way. Andrew was enjoying being deeply ploughed by the mighty Sam, and was sucking Peter’s cock with great vigour. Peter got there first, indicating that he was about to cum by simply saying “oh Christ, here it is” and giving Andrew no opportunity to suggest that it much be aimed anywhere other than straight into his mouth. Since he happily swallowed it we didn’t think the lack of a proper warning had reduced his pleasure. Charlie turned his face towards mine, and smiled. We kissed again. It’s always nice to see someone else enjoying their orgasm. Sam was maintaining a good rhythm, forcing his cock deep up Andrew’s insides. He was holding Andrews’s hips, pulling him onto his cock as his cock was plunging into Andrew. “Oh, God, Sam, that’s hot, fuck me hard, I’m close again.” This wasn’t bad going, as he’d cum only about ten minutes bahçeşehir escort earlier. Sam speeded up, hoping perhaps to shoot into Andrew at the same time Andrew shot onto the bed. As the speed of Sam’s fucking increased so did the noise both of them were making, and I was glad that cabins 3 and 4 weren’t there to hear. At last Sam cried out and his cock squirted spunk deep into Andrew. Tim was well placed to see everything, and as Sam came Tim took hold of Andrew’s hard cock, still wet from being in Charlie, and wanked him to a rewardingly large orgasm. Since he knew he might well be sleeping on that bit of bed, Tim was shrewd enough to use his other hand to catch most of what flew out of Andrew’s cock. I wondered if he was going to swallow it – he usually does – but this lot was destined for his own lubrication. He shuffled over to where Charlie and I were lying. “This is for you two, call it a wedding present,” and he wanked himself onto our bellies. “What a nice boy!” said Charlie, “thank you, brother-in-law.” The air was filled with the reek of sex. Some of us needed a rest. Andrew had come twice, Sam, Peter and Tim once. Alan, Charlie and I still hadn’t. We resumed our 69, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the rest of them were watching. This would be something for them to remember. I wriggled onto my back, our mouths still engulfing the other’s cock. Now I could get my hands on Charlie’s arse. We slurped and sucked, fondling each other’s balls and arse crack, and moaning lustfully. Every cell in my skin was tingling with the touch of Charlie’s skin; the inside of my mouth was tingling with the taste of his cock, the heat of it, the sheer joy of it, the masculine power of my lover’s cock in the most personal part of my body; my arse was tingling because it was my lover’s fingers which were pulling my cheeks apart, running along my crack, questing for entry to my other personal space. Suddenly, without warning – always the best way with someone you love – he flooded my mouth with his tasty hot Charlie-flavoured spunk. The loveliest taste I know. And I was overwhelmed and poured my love into him. We then had our usual reaction to mutual orgasms – tears of delight, love, sheer infinite joy. “You must forgive them,” said Tim, “they’re quite fond of each other and cry a lot. They’ll grow out of it one day.” “I hope not,” said Sam, “because you, squirt, and I are just the same.” This was familiar stuff to Alan and Peter, but it was clearly news to Andrew. “I hear Tim say something about a wedding present, and I thought he was joking, but you two really are in love, aren’t you?” Charlie and I nodded happily. “Yes,” I said, “don’t ask us to explain it because we can’t. It just is. It’s like being hit by a thunderbolt. One day you’re just a kid of 14 with a developed taste for fucking, the next you’ve met this boy and fallen in love. Sometimes I daren’t breathe in case it’s a dream and I wake up.” Charlie laughed. “It’s no dream. I’m real.” Tim said that whatever it was was catching, because he and Sam had got it too. “Fuck me,” breathed Andrew, “and all this has happened since we left Southampton?” Four boys nodded. The casting of lots meant that Andrew’s next partners would be Tim, Alan and me. Fate had also decreed that Alan would be fucking Andrew, and he would be fucking Mulloys. I knew that Tim would, like me, choose to be fucked rather than sucking Andrew off. Andrew had a nice cock, and he’d come in both our mouths on the way across to New York, but his cock belonged up an arse, not in a mouth. Tim was first up, as it were. “You’re going to fuck me, Andrew, and you’re going to do it my way,” said Tim. “What’s your way?” asked Andrew, “isn’t how I fucked Charlie the only way?” “You have a short memory,” Tim said. “When you fucked Patrick he was on his back and you fucked him like Chris probably says he fucks girls. But you’re going to fuck me the best way there is. Lie on your back.” Andrew looks perplexed. “Just do it,” I said quietly, “he knows what he’s talking about.” Andrew did as Tim asked him, allowing us all to perv on his smooth body and his fine upstanding cock. It did occur to me that if we ever had to find a reserve Andrew might well be where I’d look first. He was nice to look at, and he certainly enjoyed sex with other boys. But we would probably never find out. Tim climbed over him and squatted down in the right place. “Now hold your cock straight up while I get it in me.” Andrew grinned at what was about to happen. “This is new,” he said. Sam said that it was the best way, “you’ll feel all sorts of things up there you’ve not felt before.” It wasn’t quite how I’d have expressed it, but Andrew didn’t seem to have noticed. Tim lowered himself and as he felt his cock being sucked in by the warm wet arse lips above it Andrew couldn’t help thrusting up. At that moment Tim dropped, and in half a second Andrew’s pubes were tight against Tim’s arse cheeks. “Oh God, that’s good,” he said, “now fuck me, Andrew, fuck me into the middle of next week.” =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 32 as things change. 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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