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Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 167 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 167 At 1130 the next morning we got home – a home not burnt down, nor even lightly singed. Ade had coffee in front of us within minutes and Charlie and I settled down to the story of how well he had coped – perfectly well, as it turned out. “Bill and Ben were in two nights ago, and were alarmed that you weren’t here. I told them about your mum, Charlie – I hope that’s all right.” “Of course it is. What did they say? How did they react to there being only a table d’hote?” asked Charlie, anxious to have any feedback which might need to be addressed. “They asked why, and I explained that as there was only me I couldn’t do a proper a la carte without help. ‘Very wise,’ said Jeremy, ‘and how are you coping, Adrian?’ I told him that everything was going smoothly, and asked if they were happy to have a restricted choice. ‘Very happy, dear boy.’ That was David. Do you know, Charlie, I think they fancy me as much as they did when I was just a sweet boy of 16. Jeremy said he thought you were very trusting, leaving such a young lad in charge, but I just smiled, the way you taught me, Patrick.” (Bill and Ben had been keen to see whether Ade was as pleasing to look at as Kevin had been `on those few occasions when we have been allowed a view not made available to other customers’. Needless to say we had kept Ade’s arse always veiled for the first year or so, confident that Bill and Ben would keep coming back in the hope of a treat. It had been Ade’s idea, when we told him that Kevin had been willing to display himself, that if Bill and Ben were daft enough to pay good money to see his arse he wouldn’t wish to deprive them of the opportunity at some point. “When do you think that might be, Ade?” I had asked. He’d been with us for 15 months, and it was the summer of 1969. He was a little over 16 then. “Why not when one of them next has a birthday. Do they come here to celebrate?” I said I would find out. The next time Jeremy phoned to make a booking I made up some story about a couple who’d been in the night before to celebrate the husband’s 40th birthday. “Since his wife had briefed us we pushed the boat out for them.” I let that lie for a few moments. “Would you push the boat out if it was our birthday?” he said. Naturally I said we’d do what we could to make the birthday memorable, but we didn’t know when their birthdays were. It turned out that Jeremy’s birthday was in February, but that David’s was in three weeks, in early July. A date was made. I told Ade and Charlie. When the evening arrived and all the other customers had gone Ade brought in the bill, exactly as Kevin had done that first time, clad only in an apron. “Is this the birthday treat you’ve been promising me, Patrick?” said David as he and Jeremy gazed at Ade’s arse as he went back to the kitchen. “No, that comes later, David.” David’s delight was complete when the the treat finally arrived: a naked Ade bearing a half bottle of a really good pudding wine and four glasses. Charlie, in his chef gear, and I in my DJ sat with Bill and Ben aa Ade went round the table … really slowly … and poured four glasses. He put the bottle on the table, naturally bending over to do so (and naturally doing so between Jeremy and David) before going back to the safety of the kitchen and his clothes. “Happy birthday, David,” I said. The tip had, as before, been very generous. Bill and Ben had been keen for a repeat on successive birthdays, but no repeat had happened. “Just smile enigmatically,” I had told Ade.) Ade had had to smile quite hard that evening, but his honour had remained unsullied. He hadn’t had any problems with the restricted table d’hote menus either. “Back to normal tomorrow then,” said Charlie. Ade asked how things had gone in Durness, and was amused by the description of the funeral. He particularly enjoyed the peppermints (as I had done during the long ataköy escort passages of which I had understood nothing). After we’d exhausted that topic it was time to exhaust each other. It was after 1500 and nothing needed doing in the kitchen for over two hours. Charlie stood up and took Ade’s hand. “Come on,” he said, “it’s been four days and we’ve had to be very well behaved.” Ade grinned. “Built up, has it? Mine too. Should be memorable.” It’s funny how the excitement of a naked body you know so well is increased when you haven’t seen it for even a few days. Ade at 22 was hairless of course, and could easily have passed for a lad of 18 or so. He was always small and would never be taller than about 5’6″ – several inches shorter than Charlie’s 6’2″ and my 5’11”. We didn’t have kilograms in those days outside laboratories, so he weighed in at an neat 8 stone or so. The only bit of Ade that was anything to write home about (apart from his beautiful smile and feet-deep eyes) was the bit that was about to engage our attention: bits, rather, for as well as his cock, now 8 inches at rest and a good 9 when hard, were his full balls and his cute inviting arse. Charlie was lying on his back with a come-and-get-me look on his face. Ade knelt between his legs, his arse in the air. Ade applied his tongue to Charlie’s cock and soon had all of it in his mouth. (Ade had acquired the deep-throating skill in secret by dint of hours of practice and had first demonstrated it on my 50th birthday when he was 18. Since then it had formed a major part of our bedtime games.) I applied myself to the most delightful prospect: a boy’s – or what still looked like a boy’s – arse: open, smooth, inviting me to seek for nectar as a bee is invited to plunge into an orchid. “Mmm, I love what you’re doing back there, Patrick.” “Me too, Ade, it’s funny how much I’ve missed this. They don’t have sodomy in Sutherland yet.” Ade removed his mouth from Charlie’s cock long enough to say that as long as it was permitted here he couldn’t give a monkey’s about Sutherland. “I’ll drink to that,” said Charlie, “now let’s just have fun, shall we. Come on, Ade, you must be thirsty – I’ve saved something nice for you.” Rather surprisingly in view of the fact that none of us had come for some days all three of us lasted a nice long time before we climaxed that afternoon. Ade gave Charlie a prolonged blow job, deep-throating him on each inward plunge and swirling his tongue round Charlie’s cock-head in between. Charlie’s foreskin retracts itself when his cock is in someone’s mouth, so he got the full erotic benefit of Ade’s lips and tongue. I played around with my lips and occasionally my cock while Ade was busy – I didn’t want to endanger Charlie by plunging into Ade’s inviting arse unexpectedly. My finger entered slowly though, and Ade’s wriggle invited a second, whereupon a second wriggle invited a third. When all three were in Ade leant back briefly so that my hand was jammed up as far as three fingers could go. “Mmm, that’s nice, Patrick – I’ve missed feeling full up back there. Now push hard and keep them in while I get Charlie to cum in my mouth. Charlie, however, was some minutes away at that stage. I didn’t want to play prostate music in Ade while he was concentrating, so I contented myself with making my hand as big as I could. Soon Charlie began to squirm. I knew he was close and suddenly his body arched as his cock tried to push itself even deeper into the warm dark space it felt at home in. Charlie may be queer, but his cock hasn’t twigged yet that it’s not a cunt it’s trying to bury itself in. Ade was ready for this though, and leant back as Charlie pushed forward. I looked round, past Ade, to see Charlie’s stomach muscles contract as his balls pumped one … two … three … four good hard jets. Had Ade’s tonsils not been in the way I reckon they’d have hit me, five feet away. As soon as Charlie had stopped heaving my fingers were out and my cock was rammed hard up Ade’s arse – that’s how he likes it. “Oh fuck, Patrick, yesss, yesss, now … aaah! … fuck me hard.” I grabbed his hips and did his bidding. Sometimes Ade likes to be fucked as though he’s being raped, and this was one such occasion. Charlie knew what was coming. so he stayed put on his back in what would soon be the firing line. His cock softened and lay on his belly, a few drops of spunk still oozing from his foreskin, now safely covering merter escort his cock. Even fucking Ade as vigorously as he was demanding I managed to keep going for well over five minutes when Ade growled that he was nearly there – no-one had touched his cock – and a few seconds later I felt his arse tighten round my cock as he shot a huge load onto Charlie’s chest. I say ‘chest’, for that is where most of it went. The first shot went further and Charlie’s attempt to catch it in his mouth was partially successful, the rest hitting his nose. When Ade had finished (it was one of those cums which poured, rather than squirted) I resumed heavy duty fucking. Ade lowered the upper part of his body – was he hoovering up his own spunk? – and as my fucking got faster and I got nearer he groaned “pull out and do it on my back.” He was only just in time. The result of my labours was a series of six long lines of hot pearly delight reaching up to his shoulder blades. “Aaah! I love feeling your spunk landing on me, Patrick.” “And I love cleaning it off you, Ade, so lie down and let me do what needs to be done.” No, not me – Charlie on this occasion. Real life resumed the next day. ***** When Charlie was 60 in 1980 we decided we ought to start to plan for retiring. “I don’t want to be doing this in five years’ time,” he told me. Ade was 27 that year and we decided to make him a partner. He had always said that he would never leave, and if we were thinking about retiring it made sense to begin to hand the business over to him. The three of us sat down one morning to thrash the whole thing out. Ade was delighted when I offered him a share of the business. “What do I need to do?” he said. “You need to sign a partnership deed which we’ll get drawn up,” I told him, “you get 10% of the business and Charlie and I keep 45% each. Each year you get another 4% so that in five years’ time you have 30% and Charlie and I have 35% each. We worry about what happen then when we get there. “I’m really grateful, both of you,” he said, “it’s been a great experience these last 12 years, and if you really are planning to hang up your apron, Charlie, I’d like the chance to carry on. Mind you,” he added after a pause, “I’ll need help.” I wondered if this would come up. “I won’t beat about the bush, Charlie, I want to find a boy, just like you two found me. And to save you asking, yes, I want him to share my bed as well.” Charlie said that we would have no objection, provided that Ade wasn’t limiting any boy’s bedroom duties to just Ade’s bed (not that he had one in which he slept – the three of us still kept up our old habits). I asked Ade whether he had given any thought to recruiting. “After all, we didn’t recruit you – you practically begged to be taken on. Before you each boy had tended to recruit his successor.” “Ideally I – we – want a boy of 15 to start fairly soon. That will give him five years to learn what’s what before I’m on my own running things – that’s if you don’t retire before then.” Charlie said he could plan for five years, “maybe a bit longer if you need it, say six at most.” “He can’t leave school until he’s 16,” I said, “does that spoil your plan to get a 15-year-old into your bed, Ade?” Ade merely smiled. I expect he wasn’t that fussed. We spent quarter of an hour talking round how we would find such a treasure, but we got nowhere. “Something will occur to you, Patrick,” said Charlie, “it always does.” About a fortnight later I had a phone call from Jeremy. There was nothing unusual about that – he rang to book a table every few weeks. This time, however, his request was different. “Can I come in and talk to you, Patrick, about something interesting?” Since this was so out of the ordinary I agreed that I had a spare half hour the next morning. I wondered whether there was a celebration of some sort, although David’s birthday was months away and so was Jeremy’s. I realize that I haven’t told you much about these two regular – and very good – customers. When they first came to us in the early 1960s they must have been in their late twenties. By the time they appeared for about the third or fourth time I got into conversation with them (that was my habit with anyone who looked like becoming a regular). It was obvious to me that they were a couple, and I imagine equally obvious to them that Charlie and I were as well. That helped things along nicely. They ran a garden centre on the bahçeşehir escort outskirts of the town, having met at university. By the time Jeremy made his phone call they were approaching 50. The next morning Jeremy appeared at 1130 as promised. Two glasses of La Ina stood before us. Jeremy got down to business. “I have a favour to ask of you, Patrick, and it’s one I think you will be interested in. Can I take it that this conversation is confidential? Charlie can know, of course.” I nodded, intrigued. “My brother has three children – two boys and a girl. Elizabeth is going to university in the autumn and the elder boy, John, will be joining us in the garden centre when he leaves school in July. He’s been looking forward to it since he was about 10, and he’s never wavered in his desire to work with plants and so on.” I said how refreshing it was to find teenagers with a clear idea of what career they wanted to follow, but I thought we hadn’t reached the point yet. “Simon is 14,” went on Jeremy, “and he’s had several career choices – spaceman, engine driver, all the usual small boy things. He’s very sparky and he keeps David and me abreast of every aspect of his life.” I asked where this family lived – if Simon kept David abreast of things it must mean that he visited Bill and Ben fairly regularly. “They live in Luton and we visit them or they visit us every couple of weeks. Anyway, Simon’s current desire is where you come in. I wouldn’t even think of raising this unless Simon seemed serious.” Get on with it, I thought. “Simon announced on his 12th birthday that he wanted to be a world-famous chef. None of us paid much attention, but since then he’s been absolutely determined that that’s what he wants. Now forget the world-famous bit, Patrick, but is it a career that he ought to pursue?” That floored me rather. I had to think. I said that it was hard work but that if it was what the boy wanted nothing should stand in his way. “What are you asking me, Jeremy? Is this the favour?” “I want you to take him on for a short while in the school holidays to let him see what actually happens working in a kitchen. I don’t expect you to pay him, but I want him to be treated as you would treat a real apprentice – give him the jobs he would have to do if it was real.” I said I couldn’t give him an answer without talking to Charlie – it would be his decision one way or the other. “That’s what I expected, Patrick. Will you ask him?” I promised to phone Jeremy the next day, and he left quickly, knowing that I had work to do. Once lunch was over I had a quiet word with Charlie, asking him to leave all the clearing up to Ade. Once we were in the office I told him about Jeremy’s favour. “I don’t mind,” he said, “and even if it comes to nothing Ade will learn about training an apprentice. Tell Jeremy he can come, but it has to be for a proper length of time – four weeks, say. I don’t care what Jeremy says, we must pay the boy a reasonable wage.” I agreed. Charlie hadn’t finished though. “You do see the real problem though, don’t you?” I had, but I wanted Charlie to say it first. “Bill and Ben know we’re queers, and they must be as certain that Ade is as well. Parading him around naked rather suggests that the three of us are, how shall I put it, relaxed being naked in each other’s company.” I smiled: Charlie had hit the nail on the head. “Jeremy must know that Simon will be plunged into what my brother would call a hotbed of sodomy. But Jeremy is no fool, so it seems to me that Jeremy knows that Simon would find such a plunging agreeable. Do you agree?” I did. “I’ll go and see him among the flower pots tomorrow, and get him into his office, turning the tables. I think I can be quite blunt about what Simon would be exposed to, and I’ll let Jeremy pick it up from there. If he thinks it’s OK knowing what he knows about us, shall I say it’s on for the boy to come here for a month?” “And as often as he wants,” said Charlie coarsely, “14, did you say? I shall look forward to telling Ade. After all, he’s the one with the need.” =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 168 as Simon spends time with us. 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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