queen-mary-bell-boys-88

Anal

Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 88 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 88 While we were showering and greasing (each other) up I told Tim that, unusually, coarse language had not been uttered by any of the three people present when I had made the arrangements. “You mean you didn’t tell them they could fuck us?” “Not in as many words, no. I said they could do whatever they liked ‘with, in or on, or best of all, up’ us. That caused Gilbert to giggle, so I think they got the message. I’ll use the F-word and we’ll see what reaction I get. We both know that dirty talk gets most of them going, but it might be different with these two.” On the way up I reminded him that 902 had been where James and Bertie had entertained us to lunch, and where we’d had a surprise 15th birthday party after Ashokan before Queen Mary went back into service. “Happy memories,” he said. “Yeah. Good times. Well, here we go.” At 2200 on the dot two identically-attired identical twins presented themselves smartly outside the door of Stateroom 902, high up in the First Class part of Queen Mary. “Ready?” asked the elder. “Ready,” replied the younger, who knocked discreetly. The door was cautiously opened, and when Gilbert, for it was he, saw that those seeking admission were the lusty boys over whom he and Hugh had been drooling for well over 24 hours the door was flung open and we were practically dragged in. “Here they are, my dear, the little darlings!” cried Gilbert. It requires much practice – of which of course Tim and I were not short – to avoid any hint of rolling movement of the eyeballs in situations like this, and I’m proud to say that Tim’s eyes and mine were fixed firmly on the faces of our hosts. It requires remarkably little practice to know when a whore should take the lead, and so both Tim and I leant forward (once the door was safely shut) and planted particularly sloppy kisses on the lips of Gilbert and Hugh. Tim broke off long enough to let me know that he believed we were going to be in for the night of our young lives. While Tim’s lips were briefly unconnected to his Hugh said that he and Gilbert had high hopes that Tim’s prediction would indeed be fulfilled. “Hughie, don’t you think we’d all be much more comfortable if we slipped out of these clothes?” Quick as a flash Tim attended to the disrobing of Hughie while I stuck with Gilbert. Neither was clad in very much, and they were reduced to the merest of modesty within a minute or less. Silk underoos, as Ken would have put it. And silk underoos with a gratifyingly large amount of useful-looking cock within too – both of them. Gilbert and Hugh may have affected to be short on the masculinity front, but their male fronts were promising. “Leave us out shred of modesty,” said Hugh, “it’s your turn to show us your beautiful bodies.” Gilbert and he sat together on the sofa: silk underoos on brocade Louis XVI upholstery. Did I wonder that evening how many courtesans had sat silkily on those bolts of cloth, or bolts like them, in Versailles? Of course not: the idea has only crossed my mind while recalling the whole hilarious event. Tim and I did our burlesque stripping act, much to the evident joy of our audience, who whooped, but managed to do so sotto voce. The neighbours must not be alerted to fun and games in 902. Naturally we were commando as usual, so when but trousers remained we went through a buttons-undone-one-by-one and a trousers-being-eased-oh-so-slowly over inviting 16-year-old arses. When we had done this months ago for an audience of fellow bell boys and invited crew members at one of our wet sessions celebrating someone’s birthday (Will? Francis? – I couldn’t remember) we were encouraged to cut, as it were, to the chase by enthusiastic (if vulgar) cries of ‘get ’em off’, but vulgarity was absent from 902. “Show us your treasures, dear boys” was evidently First Class pansy talk for ‘get ’em off’. The result, however, was the same. With our backs turned we lowered our trousers. We bent low to remove our feet from the puddled trouser on the floor, allowing a discreet glimpse of some of the treasures. We cast our trousers aside and turned round, erections and completely shaved genitalia finally displayed. “Fuck me, they’re hairless! Just how we like it,” said Gilbert. That was the language hurdle successfully negotiated then. “We’re here to do whatever you gentlemen want,” said Tim, “but it would be nice to know what you have in mind. Do you want to fuck us – we’d really like that?” Gilbert and Hugh moved apart on the Louis XVI, patting the warm spaces between them invitingly. “Come and get friendly, you lovely things,” said Gilbert. By chance I sat next to Hugh. “No,” cried Gilbert, “you’re mine, Patrick, at least to start with.” Tim and I exchanged places and our thighs were immediately stroked by our new employers, at least to start with. Both of took this (correctly, as was soon apparent) as the signal for us to stroke the silky integuments, now concealing quite encouragingly large erections. “Mmm,” murmured Hugh, “silk on cock is so sexy.” Tim continued for about three beats, stroking, stroking, then murmured, adding action to his words, “but fingers on cock are even sexier, Hugh.” Tim’s fingers were inside the silken cocoon, stroking the hidden treasure. It remained hidden for only a few seconds longer as Hugh lifted his arse off the sofa and wriggled his underoos off. His cock was hard, uncircumcised, a good 8 inches long and almost as thick as my wrist – truly a challenge. This would be a night to remember. Seeing his partner thus denuded, and his very fine cock available for admiration, Gilbert upped his arse and whisked his silken garment off as well. Casual examination indicated that Hughie’s was bigger and thicker, but by very little. I descended to the vernacular. “Wow! what enormous cocks; Tim, we’re going to have our arses well and truly ataköy escort stretched tonight.” Tim – I love him dearly – followed me down, but added his own touch of pansy. “Yummy!” “You want to fuck us,” I said, “and we want to be fucked. Why are we sitting here?” It was a risky strategy as Gilbert and Hugh might have preferred to take the lead in the let’s-get-on-with-it process, but neither of them seemed to mind. “Such forward lusty boys,” said Gilbert, “how can we oldsters resist their youthful charms.” It wasn’t a question, but if it had been we soon discovered the answer. Gilbert and Hugh stood up, leading their catamites daintily by the hand to a very large bed. When Tim and I have been fucked by James and Bertie it had been in two separate beds, but Gilbert and Hugh had had them pushed together. Six people could have lain down on it without touching. The four who now found themselves on it were certainly not not touching. Gilbert and Hugh had lain themselves down on their backs and pulled us on top of them. It was evidently kissing time. One can do so much more while one’s lips and tongue are busy however. Supple boys can reach down and fondle large cocks, which fit so conveniently into a boy’s hands. Skilled boys who are quite keen to feel those cocks in their arses will easily arrange matters so that their buttocks are close to the cocks, and can rub the heads of the cocks in an inviting manner against those buttocks, now splayed apart. “Oh Gilbert,” I sighed,” I want your cock so much. Put it in, please, I need it.” Gilbert was happy to oblige. “Sit on it then, Patrick. You can do the work, you wicked boy.” “It may be that you cock isn’t wet enough. I need to get it properly juiced up,” and I was down on it like a robin on a worm (a peculiarly inapt simile). Gilbert moaned happily. Hugh and Tim meanwhile were similarly engaged except that Hugh had hauled Tim into a 69 position. Tim was sucking Hugh’s cock and Hugh was tonguing Tim’s arse. “Mine’s all lubed up – what about yours?” Gilbert couldn’t reach my arse as it was way down by his feet, but I stopped long enough to say that professional boys like us were lubed at all times. “You’re nice and ready now, Gilbert,” I said, giving the purple head of his cock, standing proudly (and wetly) free from his foreskin, a final swipe of my tongue, “I need it up me.” I resumed my squatting position over him and with his cock in my right hand I lowered myself onto it. I decided to let him drive once the head was in. To tease him I tightened my sphincter just as I felt his cock head touch my arse lips. “Ooh, it’s so big!” I was pleased to hear a sigh. Then, without warning, I relaxed and pushed and about four inches of red hot Gilbert disappeared. “Oh fuck, Hughie, I’m in,” cried Gilbert. I wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was: I knew he was in – well, half-way; he knew he was in; why did Hughie need this information? Was it to drive him to heights of lust that he would not have reached on his own? Was my beloved brother not sexy enough for Hughie to get it up (him) without encouragement from Gilbert? So many questions! Concentrate, Patrick, stop being silly. You are here to earn your money, and you do that by giving Gilbert and, if the earlier remarks were anything to go by, subsequently Hugh, the fuck of if not their lives, then certainly of this transatlantic crossing. “Fuck me, Gilbert,” I murmured accordingly, “shoot your hot lava up my vulnerable little teen arse.” Drivel to your ears as it was drivel to mine all that time ago – 80 years and more – but electrifying to Gilbert, whose mantle of suavity had been cast off with every inch by which his cock had disappeared into the warm welcoming well-lubed darkness. He whacked the rest of it in as hard as he could. Now you know that this is appropriately right up my street, but a good whore knows when to cry out piteously and plead for mercy. “Ooh! it’s so big, Gilbert, you’re tearing me apart,” while all the while wallowing in the red hot sexual ecstasy of being penetrated and stretched by a really good-sized cock. The engine attached to the cock was in full working order, and I received, as the Duke observed, hard pounding. Lovely sexy heat-generating hard pounding. Gilbert had stopped being a faintly ridiculous pansy and had become an unexpectedly good tiger, fucking for all he was worth. I loved it. They were having fun a couple of feet to my right as well. Hugh was also on his back with Tim happily impaled. As we were facing our clients we could each see that both of them had their eyes tight shut, concentrating perhaps on trying not to have a heart attack. Tim and I grinned at each other. He got hold of his cock and started to wank it, so I did the same. “Race you,” he mouthed. “OK.” We hadn’t had many wank races since we were much younger, and never before while being fucked. You mustn’t think that we were being casual – as far as I was concerned Gilbert was giving my insides a heavy dose of exciting electric thrills. However I knew that if I came my arse would tighten and squeeze his cock. He would probably come a lot quicker, but that didn’t worry me as I knew there would be more fucks to come, but as my arse tightened the feeling of his cock swelling up my arse would be pretty damn good for me too. I’ve no doubt that Tim thought the same: we’re twins, after all. Our fists flew. “Oh Hugh, I’m coming!” cried Tim, and I looked over to see four, five, six! fine spurts of cum fly out of him to land (in the case of the first) on the pillow and on Hugh’s chest. “Mmm!” muttered Hugh, “spunk from a beautiful boy,” and redoubled his efforts. My cock was about to squirt too, so I aimed a bit lower. All of mine went on Gilbert’s belly where I rubbed it into his skin. “Oh, fuck, Patrick,” he panted, “you gorgeous sexy boy,” but that’s when he came. My arse muscles had done their job. It felt as though his cock put an extra inch in its girth while he pumped into me. He was a really good fucker, and a really powerful comer. I collapsed onto him, my cum pooling between us, his cock still large and welcoming up my arse, tingling with delight. Hugh had come too, and Tim’s beatific smile probably matched mine. We both sought the lips underneath us. “That was the best fuck I’ve had for a long time,” I heard Tim say, “I love a big fat cock, and when you came it felt twice as big.” merter escort “Foolish boy,” said Hugh dreamily, “but you say the nicest things.” I leant forward and whispered in Gilbert’s ear. “Tim and I like to clean each other’s arses unless you and Hugh would like to.” “You mean shower?” “No, I mean clean with our tongues, Gilbert. Your cum and my arse juices for Tim and Hugh’s and Tim’s for me. But if you and Hugh … ” I left the offer dangling. “No, no, go ahead,” he said, “it will be a treat for Hughie and me to watch. Hughie, we’re about to see something rare and beautiful, I think. Prepare to be astounded, my dear.” Post-coital pansydom was clearly back. Still, I wasn’t complaining. Tim and I made ourselves comfortable. It was better to have a quasi-69 (only scooted a bit further down so that our mouths were opposite each other’s arses, rather than cocks) with one of us on his back rather than side by side. We’d perfected this over a long time, and after 10 minutes or so we’d swop so that the other one was on top. That night I was on my back, so what emerged from Tim’s arse tended to drip onto me. Both Gilbert and Hugh had come a large quantity, so we each had plenty to suck from the other. Early on in our Queen Mary experience one of our fellow bell boys – I think it was Andrew – had decided, after a careful sampling, that Tim’s arse juice and mine were indistinguishable. This wasn’t something either of us had known, and it gave each of us a nice feeling to know. Each of us was happily at work, and the audience was quietly appreciative. “My goodness, Hugh, they’re an inventive pair, aren’t they.” “Mmm, and supple too. I wish we’d had the idea of doing that before we got too old to bend like that.” All of this, and more, was audible to us as we slurped on. After what seemed about the right time Tim tapped my hips – the signal to change places. When we were settled again and gravity resumed its work I gave a little push and Tim was treated to a goodly dollop of whatever was up there. I felt his tongue lashing round my arse lips – whatever it was (x’s spunk or my arse juice) seemed to be enjoyable. Satisfactorily freshened up we were almost ready to get it on with Gilbert and Hugh. Naturally we changed partners, but this time we were told to suck their cocks. Hugh was on his back, so I gently separated his legs. “Let the dog see the rabbit, Hugh,” I said, a remark hardly original but one which evinced a merry titter from Gilbert. “How naughty of Patrick to call it a rabbit, Hughie, when in a few moments he’ll turn it into a ravening wolf!” Rabbit, wolf, whatever, I thought, from where I’m kneeling (between Hugh’s white hairless legs) it’s more like a middle-aged man’s only-just-come cock, and it’ll take me some time, and all of my considerable skill, to reawaken it. It was big, but it was sluggish. I licked and sucked, taking one ball into my mouth and gently rolling it round. Hugh squirmed nicely, so the other one got the same treatment. I lifted his knees, hoping he’d managed to get them over my shoulder, allowing me to get at his arse. I reckoned that Brer Rabbit would be livelier if Brer Prostate was invited to join in. My fingers probed the very edge of his arsehole. “Mmm, you’re a very bad boy, Patrick.” “I take it you really mean I’m being very good.” “Mmm.” But it was dry in there, and my vaseline was in my pocket, cast in a corner. “Hang on, Hugh, while I get something to make you nice and slippery.” I was back in position in a few seconds. “My arse has missed you,” he said. “I’m back now,” I whispered to his arsehole, and two fingers were evidence of the truth of what I’d said. “Mmm, I like that.” I wriggled them about a bit before the magic third sought admission. Brer Rabbit was now wide awake, so as the three fingers did what they always do my mouth was engulfing Hugh’s cock, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. I licked the underneath of his cock from his balls, slowly, slowly along his piss-pipe to the frenulum where my tongue dwelt a while. Hugh squirmed a lot more, as did my fingers. “I’m not far away,” he moaned, “I want it in your mouth.” It was my turn to say “mmm”. Fingers, tongue, lips all went to work with renewed vigour, and Hugh’s squirming morphed into full-scale writhing. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh …” and another startlingly copious series of spunky jets flooded my mouth. If I could come as much at his age, I thought, I’ll be a happy man. Four good spurts and a couple of dribbles exhausted Hugh’s balls. I scooped up what remained on his cock and bent forward to give him a kiss. It was the least I could do. When I moved to lie beside him while he recovered I saw what Tim and Gilbert were up to. They had been watching us, and had only started to re-engage as Hugh came. “My turn, Tim,” said Gilbert, ” can you do the same to me?” “No, but I can do it better.” We whores don’t feel that such remarks are to be taken as criticism: they are meant for the client’s benefit only. I have to admit that my brother is pretty good, though. Watching him and Gilbert was stimulating, even though I’ve seen it many times. When Gilbert came, in the same manner as Hugh had done, and Tim moved to lie beside him the four of us were side by side on the big bed, Tim and I between Gilbert and Hugh. “We haven’t come yet, and you are each two ahead of us,” I said, “we need to catch up a bit. How would you like us to come, and where?” Gilbert and Hugh then discussed this over our heads, as it were. “If they’re here all night, Hughie, then lusty boys like them can manage three, wouldn’t you say. So that’s one in my mouth, one up my arse, and another one I can’t work out yet. What about you?” Hugh didn’t demur. “As ever, Gilbert dear, you’ve hit the nail on the head. I don’t know about you, but I want Patrick to fuck me. There’s something animal about a 15-year-old when his cock’s busy fucking – they’re like nothing else on earth. Will you fuck me, dear boy?” I moved over and put my lips next to his ears. “Yes, Hugh, I’ll fuck you with pleasure. It will be best if you stay on your back and lift your legs over my shoulders. That way will be less tiring for you, and I want to fuck you for as long as I can before I come. Do you want me to come up your arse?” “Of course, dear boy. The sensation of powerful jets of your delicious virile spunk coating my ancient insides bahçeşehir escort is why you are here. Come, boy, let’s to action!” Very Shakespearian, our Hugh. Long experience had taught me that while I was a competent fucker it wasn’t the activity at which I excelled. Nonetheless Hugh wasn’t to know that, so I set about the preliminaries. More vaseline was pressed into service. Once I had got a decent amount well up inside him I said I was ready. Up went his legs, revealing the target. I’d already got it good and wet, so when I presented my cock at the gates entry was not denied. I slipped in straight away. Hugh moaned happily, although if Gilbert fucked him regularly, as seemed likely, it wasn’t the size of my cock that thrilled him, but its age. I knew I could come pretty quickly, and had that been what Hugh wanted then it would have happened. All I’d have had to do was treat his arse as my fist, and imagine I was having a quiet wank. But I’d promised him a long session, so I simply put the idea of Hugh and his pansy middle-aged arse out of my mind. Steady rhythmic fucking could be made to last almost without limit. Once I sensed Hugh getting antsy I could make myself come quite fast. In I went. As I expected, Hugh’s arse was roomy, and my cock didn’t really touch the sides. Still, I had a job to do. However I quickly found that Hugh’s arse wasn’t going to provide enough friction to make me come, so I decided I would try to fuck him for long enough that he would become uncomfortable on his back with his legs up. When he said he needed to move I would stop and see what happened next. I was somewhat taken aback when 15 minutes passed with no comment from him beyond little sighs and moans of an encouraging nature. I decided to speed up – could I fake it, I wondered. It was then that Hugh said that he had to lower his legs. I whipped my cock out and had it touching his lips before he could suggest anywhere else for it. “Mmm, feed me your hot hard cock, Patrick.” Feed him I did, and I was pleased to feel expert oral technique rapidly getting me close. “I’m close, Hugh.” He continued to lick and suck mist expertly, and his efforts were rewarded when my balls erupted. “Oh, fuck, Hugh, that’s the biggest cum I’ve had for days,” I murmured as more spunk pulsed, then dribbled, forth. “And very tasty cum it is too, my boy.” My cock subsided and Hugh allowed it to slip out of his mouth. “Look,” he whispered, pointing to where Tim had his cock in Gilbert’s mouth. We watched as Gilbert squeezed Tim’s arse cheeks as he face-fucked him. “Yes, yes, aaah!” as he delivered a volley of spunk. Gilbert’s throat muscles moved convulsively as Tim’s load reached the back of his throat and he swallowed … and again … and again. Five jets flew from Tim’s cock, and five jets were greedily swallowed. “Thank you, Tim, that was delicious. Soon it will be time to taste Patrick’s juicy offering, and compared. Hugh will do the same, won’t you, dear?” “Soon” turned out to be getting on for an hour as the two of them said they wanted us to have time so that we were able to produce a worthwhile load. During this hour there was much stroking and cuddling. With some clients the in-between bouts of relaxed cuddling can be very pleasant, but I have to confess both Tim and I found Gilbert and Hugh a bit much. Still, we made damn sure that neither of them had any inkling that we were not, like them, in very heaven. After a while Tim reached over and tapped my arse. I nodded. Tim murmured in Hugh’s ear that he was feeling sexy again. “Feel my cock, Hugh, it’s hard, and it needs you to suck it.” As he said this Tim felt for Hugh’s cock and, seeing that it was still soft, turned round to get his lips round it. “Mine wants to 69 with me, Gilbert. What about yours?” Naturally when I heard this I was onto soft Gilbert (but even soft it was pretty big) and I got it in my mouth. As we were several inches shorter than Gilbert or Hugh it was our arses, rather than our cocks, which were well positioned for mouth music. They were bloody good at it. I love being rimmed by someone who knows what they’re doing, and my moans were utterly genuine, the effect on my cock, already hard, was to make it harder and my needs more urgent. “I need to cum, Gilbert, and I’ll shoot on your belly if I don’t get my cock into your mouth right now.” “Then move, dear boy, move with all haste!” I scooted round and pushed my cock between his open lips. Within five seconds I was blasting the back of his throat – well, `blasting’ is maybe a bit strong after the massive cum an hour earlier, but it was plentiful and Gilbert was delighted to have more Mulloy goodness to consume. He made no comment however, and I slipped out. “Lie beside me, my dear, until Hughie and Tim have finished.” From the groans coming from two feet away this would not take long, and Tim was soon pulsing as I had done a few minutes earlier. “Oh, Tim, that was delicious,” sighed Hugh. “Gilbert dearest, I don’t think I could detect any difference between the balsam these two young beauties produced.” “No indeed, Hughie, nor could I. What a lucky pair of old queens we are to have lit on such treasures.” The only proper reply to such a remark, not that it was addressed to us, was to smile enigmatically. All four of us were exhausted by then, and Tim and I were arranged between them in preparation for sleep. Luckily sleep arrived quickly. At around 0615 when I woke it was evident that neither Gilbert nor Hugh was a lark, and the application of fingers and lips did nothing to elicit any kind of encouraging response. Tim had more luck than I did, fir at least Hugh roused himself enough to say that further activity wasn’t going to happen. “Thank you both, boys, it was a splendid night. Don’t wake Gilbert, there’s dears. Slip out quietly,” he whispered. Tim and I wriggled out of bed, dressed ourselves quickly and were about to go when Hugh hissed at us. “Here,” he said, and produced $50 from the drawer beside the bed. In return for such bounty, lark or no lark, we both came back to the bed and kissed him. “Pass that on to Gilbert,” I said as we left. =============================================================================== The fun will continue in Chapter 89 as we sail towards Southampton and Arthur’s dietary requirements are met by Graham, happier now that his secret was out, and Javid. The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing last year, 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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