queen-mary-bell-boys-173queen-mary-bell-boys-173

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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 173 This was worrying, but as nothing had come of it their parents obviously hadn’t been informed. “What happened?” said Ade. “John had come back early because he was fed up with the music festival. He’d got a bus back to the village and had naturally taken advantage of being on his own to go into the taverna. Silly bugger had had too much, so when he came barging in to find Seppi deep inside his baby brother his first reaction was to burst out laughing. `What the fuck!’ he cried. Seppi pulled out, so the next thing John saw was a cock all nice and wet and a bloody sight bigger than his. His eyes opened wide just as my arse closed shut. Then he frowned and got all big-brothery. `You dirty buggers,’ he said. I knew John though, and I didn’t think that if he was as tiddly as he sounded he wasn’t going to spill the beans. Seppi was terrified, but I put my arm round him and told him it was OK. John saw the wine bottle at the same time I did, and I told him to help himself. `Boozing as well as buggering, I see,’ he said, `they won’t be pleased.’ My brother is dead vulgar, Patrick, because he swigged from the bottle.” (I gave the theatrical shudder which seemed called for.) “It must have been the drink, because he lay down on the bed and grabbed his crutch. `Seeing the cock on your chum makes me feel like a wank,’ he said `and there’s no way you can sneak about it either.’ Seppi and I watched as he wriggled out of his trousers and pulled his pants off. I hadn’t seen his cock erect for years, and it was quite impressive – not up to Seppi or you, Charlie, but a lot bigger than mine. He seemed to have forgotten us while he started to stroke the thing – the drink must have taken over. I whispered in Seppi’s ear and he looked alarmed. `Go on,’ I whispered, `it’ll be all right.’ Seppi waited until John was well launched, then he leant over and licked John’s cock head. Instinctively he took his hand away and his cock disappeared into Seppi’s mouth. `Oh fuck!’ cried John, but he didn’t do anything to stop Seppi. Well, you can work out what happened. Seppi sucked and sucked and John lurched up as he came. As he fell back on the bed his cock slipped out of Seppi’s mouth. `Here,’ I said, before he could swallow. Seppi managed to get to me and I got a mouthful of John’s spunk for the first time.” He paused. “The only time too.” “What happened?” “He fell asleep. Sex and drink can do that, you know. While he was asleep I got the camera and took some more pictures. I already had some of Seppi looking very sexy, but I took two more of Seppi with John’s cock in his mouth.” “You can’t take them to the chemist,” I said. “It’s not that kind of camera, Patrick, it’s a polaroid one where the pictures just come out of the bottom of the camera.” “And no doubt you’re going to show us,” said Ade. Simon grinned. “Of course, but we showed them to John when he woke up. `Breathe a word, big brother, and they get to see these.’ John was very quiet. `Did that really happen?’ We nodded. `What you have to do, John, is not come back here in the afternoon again. Seppi and I fuck each other. If you want to join in, that’s fine.’ He made a disgusted face, so it didn’t seem likely that I’d have to share Seppi. `So remember, not a word, OK?’ He nodded, `yeah, I agree, you little pervert.’ I pointed out that I might be a little pervert, but that Seppi was a great big pervert, a bloody sight bigger than he was. He smiled, `OK, Simon, truce.’ Then he went back to sleep. Five minutes later Seppi and I were back where we’d been before he came in. He kept his word, and never interrupted us again. And now I expect you’d like to see Seppi.” Seppi was pretty stunning – beautiful Mediterranean dark curls, a generous smile, a brown body radiating adolescent promise and, as Simon had found so fulfilling, a very large fat cock. Simon had chosen to illustrate it soft as well as hard, and there was little left to the imagination. If you hadn’t known that John was asleep the pictures of him with his eyes shut and Seppi’s mouth clamped over his cock (soft, but completely hidden) would have convinced you that both of them were equally involved. “Very convincing, Simon,” said Charlie. Ade cuddled Simon. “You had a good holiday then?” “Mmm. It’s nice to be home again though.” Clive and Margaret had enjoyed two weeks of culture away from their bored son, seeing him only in the evenings and over breakfast. After his little adventure John had kept himself inconspicuous, enjoying the music festival assiduously. Simon had enjoyed two weeks of unrestrained sex with Seppi, being bored as often as they could manage. ataköy escort Funnily enough when 9 o’clock came round parents and sons found each others’ company more agreeable than anyone had expected, no doubt because the day had been stimulating for everyone. “What happened when you were going to leave?” asked the ever-romantic Charlie. “We went up to the woods on our last afternoon and he fucked me again. That time he lasted ages. Must have been at least half an hour. Then we cuddled and kissed for ages. Then he fucked me again. It was just like being back home here,” and he turned to kiss Ade. That was twice he’d called here ‘home’. “Is Seppi heart-broken?” I said lightly. “I expect so. He won’t find anyone as sexy as me, after all.” Simon had indeed enjoyed his bit of rough. Seppi’s loss was our gain, and before real life took over at 1259 (it was a cold lunch) Charlie and I had visited Seppi’s Paradise and found it as delightful as it always had been. And just as welcoming to old friends. ***** Four weeks later Clive and Margaret came to dinner. A week earlier Charlie had phoned with the choices Simon was able to cook for them. Clive passed the phone to Margaret as what went on in the kitchen was really women’s stuff. Charlie told me afterwards that he hoped Margaret secretly voted Labour just to annoy him. Margaret sounded very impressed that in a mere month Simon was deemed capable of such things and promised to phone back later that morning with their choice. Charlie pointed out that they would have to order the same things, otherwise the whole point of the exercise would be lost. As it happened it was Ade who took the message as Charlie was out and Simon and I were busy when she rang. “That’s quite a challenge you’ve set him, but Charlie and I are confident that he’s up to it,” he said. It was agreed they would show up at 7.30 as before. When Simon and I came downstairs we found Ade and Charlie looking pleased. “At least we know what he’s got to concentrate on in the next week,” said Charlie. He looked fondly at Simon. “No more morning sessions for the next week,” he said with a smile, “work instead.” In the three weeks since he’d returned the three adults had gradually evolved a satisfactory way of living together with Simon. Ade and he slept together in the spare bed most nights, though we still occasionally welcomed one or both of them into ours. Simon was adamant that his arse was still going to welcome Charlie and me, and over the first week or so we accommodated him one at a time on most mornings. It was a strange set-up, but it worked well enough for us. Charlie spent the afternoon teaching him and in the evening the three of them were busy in the kitchen. Simon spent one morning with me, one with Charlie (both in bed) and one morning with Ade buying what we needed. Ade seemed as happy with this arrangement as the rest of us. Charlie and I knew that at our age – we were then around 60 – we were slowing down, and long before we finally retired we would be strangers to Simon’s bed. Perhaps not strangers, but occasional welcome visitors. We hadn’t reached that stage yet. That morning Charlie had got up for breakfast and I stayed in bed. Simon left Ade’s bed and climbed in beside me at around 0830. You’ll remember that in my days as a Queen Mary bell boy I was not at my best in the morning, but as I got older things must have changed, because when Simon used to come to bed I was very alert and spry. He used to cuddle and sometimes the pair of us would drift off to sleep again before the hormones started their merry work. He would dive down and greet my cock in a friendly way, licking and sucking and generally making it ready for the fucking it was being called upon to perform. Charlie and I compared notes, and we found that Simon no longer wanted to fuck either of us. We could hardly blame him when Ade’s body was so much … well, nicer than our rather used ones. Simon was happy – no, I’ve understated that again – Simon was as keen as ever to be fucked: the wrinkliness and lack of youth in the body fucking him didn’t seem to detract from his pleasure. And fucking him remained a very great pleasure indeed. That morning he sucked my cock as usual, and gave similar attention to my balls – still shaved as they had always been. “I want to rim you, Simon,” I murmured, and as this wasn’t part of our routine he wriggled happily. It’s all too easy to let sex become stale, and Charlie and I have always tried (not always successfully, I fear) to inject a touch of the unexpected. Simon was so accustomed to being fucked that foreplay was no longer necessary – and that made it all the more welcome when it happened, as it did that day. My tongue journeyed up and down along his perineum, dancing lightly round his arse – dilated instinctively – but not entering, despite the clear signs which said ‘in here, please’. I knew that today was the day when the menu would be decided, and that therefore he would be excited when Charlie told him. What better was of filling a couple of hours while a boy waits for important news than by filling his arse with – well, anything. We had been to London while Simon was merter escort in Italy, and the three of us had bought a selection of anythings, some of which Simon was very eager to have filling his arse. The anything I chose to use that morning lived in our bedroom, and was not available unless Simon was in our bed. It was a black rubber cock about 10 inches long and somewhat wider than any of the cocks on the premises. As soon as he saw it for the first time Simon’s eyes lit up. “Is that for me?” Ade nodded, “only if you’re good though.” Simon, when put to the test in a foursome, was very good indeed. Simon called the black rubber cock Flash. Flash made an appearance that morning and I rubbed it along his perineum, my tongue alternating with Flash in getting the boy fired up. I tongued his cock again and was rewarded with a large amount of precum. “Flash now, or fingers?” He didn’t hesitate. “Three fingers, please Patrick, then Flash. I’ll tell you before I come, and if you fuck me then we should come together.” Obedient to his request I greased my fingers and in they went. Simon likes all three in at once: he told us that the suddenness is what turns him on. I felt for his prostate and stroked it gently. Simon’s moans were beginning, but I knew we still had a long way to go. I don’t remember how well I managed to delay coming when I was his age, but however he’d learnt to do it Simon could hold back for a long time. Maybe he’d mastered the 17-times and was working on the 23-times now. After a good ten minutes of my three fingers gently stroking his prostate Simon murmured “Flash”, so out came my fingers and in went Flash. Perversely he likes Flash to disappear very slowly – this, he explained, was because fingers didn’t do stretching like Flash did, and stretching was best enjoyed when enjoyed slowly. It took me three or four minutes to get Flash as far in as it went – leaving less than an inch outside. When Flash first came to live with us over an inch and a half remained unaccommodated. Simon groaned as more of Flash pushed its way in. “Oh God, that’s so fucking filling. Keep it there, Patrick.” Flash had a hard rubber plate at the bottom, presumably so that a user might lower himself onto it. The plate is an excellent sounding-board, and when I tapped it with my fingers the vibrations went right up Flash and deep inside Simon. Simon yelped – there is no other word – and I stopped immediately. “No. no, don’t for Christ’s sake stop, that’s so unbelievable.” I was pleased to learn a new trick at my age, and I went on with my rhythmic assault on Flash. It wasn’t long before Simon begged me to remove Flash and “get yours up me before I explode.” I’ve always welcomed clear instructions, and Flash was whipped out and I was in there in a heartbeat. This wasn’t an occasion when Simon was to be given a choice about how our orgasms were to be achieved – it was fast and furious. He took only 20 seconds or so – Flash had done most of the work, but I knew he loved being fucked hard after he’d come and his nerves were still jangling. When I drove in as deep as my modest 6 inches would allow, and pulsed what my balls had to offer up where the pulses were most wanted Simon cried out. Much as we both would have wished that my cock would stay where it was for ever neither of us thought it was a wish likely to be granted. Inevitably I shrunk and slipped out. Inevitably spunk started to leak from Simon’s still wide-open arse. We were old hands though, and a swift turn from Simon ensured that all that had been spunky was clean a mere … fifteen minutes later. “You enjoyed that, the pair of you, from the sound of things,” said Ade as he made a restorative full English for us not long after the last of the spunk had disappeared. “Mmm.” Simon can be very laconic sometimes. Charlie came back, took one look at two people breakfasting at the late hour of 1000, raised his eyebrows and said “Flash?” “Mmm.” “Why do you call it that anyway? It’s black, so Flash doesn’t makes sense.” “Fucks like a shire horse,” said Simon with a happy grin between mouthfuls of his full English. ***** As I said, Clive and Margaret came to dinner. Charlie had given them three choices of entree (starters and pud were the same on all three sample menus, both of them designed to impress his parents with Simon’s newly-learned skills). One fowl and two meat (this was long before vegetarians had demanded that their interests be catered for by anything more exciting than a quickly-rustled-up mushroom omelette). Clive graciously allowed Margaret to choose – after all, his mind was on higher things – and after ten minutes of agonizing she plumped for Chicken Kiev. I’ve never dared to do that, she thought, and it will be good for Clive to have to eat garlic and pretend he loves it. A close study of the menus (and since she’d never done Chicken Kiev it would have needed a few moments of studying a recipe book) would have revealed to Margaret that the skills Simon was being called upon to demonstrate were remarkably similar across all three. Charlie and Ade had thought very carefully, and Ade had made the final three choices the day after Simon came for the bahçeşehir escort summer. Charlie and Ade worked hard with Simon, who (so Charlie told me) turned out to be a very quick learner. The three of them agreed that Simon would cook the chosen meal for Charlie and me for lunch the day before Clive and Margaret came. As it was a Monday we wouldn’t lose much business by being closed for lunch that day. Ade would be on hand to lend a hand, but only if he saw that it was needed. Simon set to work after an early breakfast – there was no fucking that morning. At 1300 we sat down with a glass of Chablis to eat Smoked Mackerel Mousse. The Chicken Kiev appeared on the dot of 1315, and with it another glass of Chablis seemed called for. We were finished by 1330, so Charlie made a note that the pud should appear 25 minutes after the chicken. “They may eat more slowly than we do, and anyway it’s only right that they should have a gap before the next course. The timing is vital though.” I knew all this, but I could understand Charlie’s slight nervousness on behalf of his pupil. The Vanilla Soufflé arrived and disappeared quickly. “Tomorrow we’ll offer the cheese trolley after, of course,” said Charlie, “will you have a red ready if they order?” I smiled. I knew that the four of us would be joining Clive and Margaret when the cheese appeared – that signified relaxing time for Simon and his mentors. Possibly because I had had no part in teaching Simon the skills he was demonstrating I felt none of the tension that Charlie (and no doubt the other two) were suffering from. “That was pretty good, Charlie, and if he can do that again tomorrow they’ll be thrilled – and so will Simon. You’ve really done well, all of you.” Charlie smiled. “There were a couple of minor things which I would have done differently, but ‘different’ isn’t ‘wrong’ in this game. Two chefs will have two ways of doing something as simple as mashed potato, so I won’t correct him. I’m really pleased, and I shall tell him so.” We didn’t bother with cheese as there’s no preparation involved, so when Simon and Ade came in to hear the verdict (thoughtfully bringing coffee for four) Charlie stood up, his arms wide open and a broad beam on his face. Simon rushed forward to be enfolded. “You’ll do,” said Charlie. ***** When Ade came to clear the soufflé away Clive and Margaret were bowled over. “And did Simon do that all on his own?” asked his proud mother. “You must ask him,” said Charlie, coming in with the cheese trolley. The big table had been cleared as soon as the party of four had gone and Charlie quickly set it for six. “Please come over here,” he said, “and we’ll join you for the cheese.” Clive rubbed his hands in a fine demonstration of bonhomie. “That really was very fine, Charlie, you’re a great teacher.” “That’s because Simon is a first class boy to teach, Clive. He absorbs everything he’s exposed to, and can’t have too much to keep him occupied.” Luckily the incipient pepper attack was something I just managed to avoid. I directed Clive and Margaret to two seats so that Simon could take his place between them when he brought in the crusty bread and the fruit. I busied myself with claret and glasses. Ade and Charlie followed Simon and the three of us sat together opposite the proud parents and their proud son, still in his chef’s gear (as were Ade and Charlie). “I’m so proud of you, dear,” said Margaret, giving her boy a hug. “Yes, well done, old chap. You must have been up at the crack of dawn to do all that.” Simon said that it been tricky, but that he’d really enjoyed himself. “And Charlie’s a really good teacher. I wish it was Easter and I could come here to work properly.” ***** He did, of course. During the two terms before then he was with us most weekends, and by agreement with his parents he came to us for the few days before Christmas to see just how hectic a kitchen can be. Easter came and he came to live with us permanently. Ade and he had the small bedroom as theirs, and gradually Simon spent fewer occasions in our bed. Neither Charlie nor I was too disappointed by this as we were definitely slowing down in terms of ardour. Still, once a month or so suited all of us nicely. Ade insisted that Simon continued the tradition (which Ade had kept faithfully) of being shaved when necessary, and by the time he was 18 Simon, naked, was as lovely a sight as you could imagine. He was slim and wiry, but his arms and chest were those of a young man; his cock rose a good 8 inches from his belly and his full balls hung low (and immensely suckable); his arse – ah! his arse. That important part of him had stayed as pert and as invitingly fuckable as it had been when he had been a mere 14. Ade had seen to it that it hadn’t healed up, as Simon had once feared. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 174. Charlie and I have retired and take to the sea again. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real, as are the details of the final voyage. I first saw the boys while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and had the pleasure of seeing them again in April 2019, smiling at the knowledge of all the things that had befallen them since I first saw them, and thought again how cute “I” was. I’m sure he had adventures in real life … Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. =============================================================================

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