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Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 140 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 140 It was another week before a letter arrived from Ibadan. I went into the kitchen where Charlie and Kevin were busy preparing for the evening customers – among them the two queers, regulars with us. “Can you leave Kevin in charge for ten minutes? There’s a letter from Graham.” It was a bit early for a glass of wine, so Kevin said he would bring coffee in to us. He’s a good boy, and quick to respect the fact that although we all sleep together Charlie and I still need time on our own. We went through to the office and Charlie sat in the arm chair. “Read it to me,” he said. “Dear Patrick, and Dear Charlie too, “How lovely to hear from you both again after all these years. And what exciting news about good old Queen Mary! Yes, we’ll be there like a shot. It will be great to meet up with all the others. Nigel is in touch, of course, but apart from him and Jav we’ve not heard from any of the others. We must make sure we don’t lose touch again after the last voyage. If you’re organizing it all on Sir’s behalf you’ll know about all the others too – do write back and give us the news. “The fact that you wrote just to me means that Nigel must have given you instructions, as well as our address. We’re still together of course, but the atmosphere here in Nigeria is very tense. Being queer is taboo, so we have to be discreet. Prince is devoted to the country, and he’s done so much – we both have, if I’m honest – that it’s a fucking shame that we can’t just be ourselves, like Nigel and Jav are, or you two. (How are Tim and Sam – are they still together? You didn’t mention them, Patrick.) I wish we could go to another ex-colony where we could help them to develop as we’ve helped Nigeria, but where they were less up their own arses about things like being queer. A Christian country rather than a Muslim one perhaps. But Prince is from Nigeria, so he won’t move. I got him to promise that we would think again after we’ve been here for 10 years, but that’s still 5 years away. At least in a city like this there’s less danger of our throats being cut in a village raid. But we still have to be bloody careful. As British subjects we are known to the British diplomats, and as one or two of them share our strange habits we are probably safer than if no-one knew, but even so it’s a worry. “Enough of this gloomy stuff. When we come to the UK can we stay with you two and fuck each other silly without the neighbours getting all excited and demanding our heads on a pole? Prince read that bit and nibbled my ear. He says to tell you ‘yum yum’. “Do write back and give us more news. Just to me though. “With all our love to both of you, G & P xx” Kevin had brought the coffee and quietly left us to it. “We’re lucky, aren’t we,” said Charlie. “Yes, but in what way?” “Well, we can be who we are. Our clients either know or choose not to know. Same with our non-queer friends, and we’ve plenty of those. We have Kevin, and neither he nor the two boys before him have been any trouble.” “Far from it – they’ve added spice to our middle-aged lives.” “You know what I mean. No-one’s brought the Watch Committee round. We see Tim and Sam regularly. We enjoy our work. We make more than enough money. We’re bloody lucky.” Not for the first time I reminded him that he – we – owed it all to Alan. Charlie smiled at the memory of that fateful two seconds almost 30 years earlier. “Not just Alan, your lustful curiosity was pretty important too,” he said, reaching over and touching my hand. “What are you giving Bill and Ben tonight?” I asked. “You must stop calling them that. One day you’ll do it to their faces. Now try again.” I smiled. “Dear Charlie, what are you and Kevin rustling up for David and Jeremy tonight?” “That’s better. We put them off to go flying off to Liverpool and so I thought I would phone yesterday to see whether they fancied one of my specials. They’ve been here often enough to know that some things need more preparation than others.” “And?” “And they will each have a lobster – one Normande and one Thermidor. Kevin will have learned a great deal by nine o’clock tonight. We have two other couples, neither of them regulars, but both local. With any luck when they see lobsters appearing they might decide to come back. They will get the usual choices.” I wondered whether, after all the work he and Kevin would be putting in to the lobsters meant that, as a reward, Kevin might learn a few more things after Bill and Ben and the other four had gone home. ***** Charlie and Kevin busied themselves in the afternoon preparing for the evening’s customers. I don’t get involved – my side of the business is in the office. It’s been a wonderful partnership over the years. Charlie is a brilliant chef, inventive without being pretentious, and I’ve handled the ordering, the booking, the paperwork (and that grows with every year that passes), and most important ataköy escort of all, the wine. Well, all the drink, but the sherry and the brandy look after themselves pretty much. When we put Bill and Ben off I’d promised myself that they would get complimentary champagne and that Kevin would be trotted out to bring it. It would be the first time Kevin would make an appearance in the Dining Room – until then he had been confined to the kitchen (and the bedroom). I’d asked him to come into the office when Charlie didn’t need him for 10 minutes. Doubtless the two of them were busy dealing with the lobsters Charlie had chosen that morning. I went down to the cellar and brought up a bottle of fizz and a few reds and whites ready for the other diners. I hate not having things just so. We’d been careful to build a reputation for quality, and in a small place like ours that could only be done by having a narrow range of choices – three or four dishes only in each course – cooked to perfection, rather than a massive menu, some of which inevitably went to waste. When I got back Kevin was waiting in the office. “Has Charlie told you about tonight?” “No, Patrick, but he’s taught me a lot about lobsters, and there’s more to come later. I’m to learn the sauces.” “We’ve got six tonight, three couples. One of them, two queers who are regulars, are getting the lobsters and we had to put them off when we closed a couple of weeks ago. I want to thank them for being willing to be postponed, and the thanks come in three forms. One is a bottle of complimentary champagne. It’s not a great one, but it’ll do. They’ll get it as soon as they sit down.” Kevin listened politely, but so far nothing seemed to involve him. “Two is that you will be bringing it to them. I will open the bottle – it’s quite tricky – and you will serve it. You haven’t been out front before, and this will be a good time as there will be only six guests. Pour it very gently into the older man’s glass first, but only about half full. It will fizz up, so pour carefully. Then do the same for the other man. Then fill the first one a bit more, then the second one, then put the bottle in the ice bucket. Smile nicely, they’re good customers. Any questions so far?” “No. The important thing is to pour slowly, right?” “Right.” There was a pause. “What’s the third thing for thanking them?” “I haven’t decided yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll tell you. Now off you go back to Charlie.” He grinned. “He gave me a message for you, and I was to deliver it just before I left.” I waited. “What was it, Kevin?” “I was to say to you that he hopes you’re not going to throw me to the wolves. What did he mean? What wolves?” I assured him that there no wolves, and that he wasn’t going to get thrown to anyone. He seemed happy, and trotted back to Charlie, his neat little arse arousing me as it always did. Bill and Ben arrived on the dot as they always did, and I sat them at their usual table. As soon as I had done so Kevin appeared bearing the bottle I’d opened two minutes earlier. “This is on the house, gentlemen, and it’s Charlie’s and my way of thanking you for being inconvenienced a couple of weeks ago.” While I was saying this Kevin poured very carefully, as instructed, and smiled beautifully, as instructed, before going back – that arse again – into the kitchen, leaving the bottle in the ice bucket. I made a huge effort and didn’t watch Kevin’s arse, because I wanted to see what Bill and Ben thought. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Kevin’s arse would probably be discussed fairly enthusiastically. My task done, I left them to it. Charlie appeared with his bonne bouche and the evening went on as normal. 90 minutes later the other two couples were just leaving. Bill and Ben had demolished their lobsters (infinitely more elegantly than Tim and I had done in James and Bertie’s presence nearly 30 years earlier) and had lingered over sweet and cheese. It was time for Thing Three. I went into the kitchen where the two of them were relaxing. “The other four are going,” I said, “I’d like to give David and Jeremy something which will cement their loyalty to us.” Charlie knew that I was up to something. “What wickedness are you planning now? They’ve had free bubbly, what else do they need?” “They need their bill. And they need it brought by Kevin.” “Are you up for that, Kevin?” asked Charlie, “all you have to do is put it in front of David, smile and leave. Patrick will go in a few minutes later and they pay, and that’s it.” Kevin said he was fine with that. “Well, it’s not quite that easy,” I said, “because I’ve been watching them and they find your arse, Kevin, just as exciting as I do. No, before you get the wrong idea, I’m not suggesting they get to do anything with you, but I think it might be fun if they got a better look. So I suggest you strip off and put an apron on. Then when you turn round to go they’ll see your arse in all its perfect glory.” “You can’t!” said Charlie. “I don’t see why not. They’re as queer as we are, and there’s no-one else in the place. What about you, Kevin?” Kevin’s wide grin was enough to persuade Charlie that resistance was futile. “Oh, very well then.” And he went to find an apron that would display Kevin’s rear to best advantage. Two minutes later a lightly-clad Kevin approached the table and reverently laid the bill before David. The two of them had been talking earnestly and hadn’t noticed him approaching, merter escort but when the bill appeared they both looked up. “Pinch me, Jeremy, there’s a dear. I think an angel has come with the bill.” The angel grinned wickedly, and turned to go. He wiggled a tiny bit more than usual. “Come back, angel,” said Jeremy, “we need to be sure you’re real.” But Kevin had strict instructions to come straight back to the kitchen. When I went to collect payment I pulled up a chair – not something I usually do. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” I said. David and Jeremy agreed. “Very.” “He’s been with us for three months and Charlie’s training him in the kitchen. Do you think it’s time I trained him in waitering skills?” “Undoubtedly, and if you do you’ll probably attract more diners. I’m sure word will get round,” said David, “having a pretty lad bringing one’s grub adds so much to the whole experience.” I knew exactly how he felt, though of course I wouldn’t have dreamt of saying so. “Make sure he remembers his trousers though, Patrick. We don’t want ordinary diners to get the wrong idea.” I got their coats and they went off, floating on champagne, lobsters and Kevin’s arse. They left, as I had assumed they would, a stunning tip. I gave half of it to Kevin. Virtue should always be rewarded. The conspiratorial smiles between the two of them alerted me that something was up. “You’re up to something.” I said, “what is it?” “All in good time,” said Charlie, “Kevin’s earned a reward, don’t you think?” I said that after a meal like that they’d both earned a reward. “Those two were thrilled to bits at the delights beneath your apron, and they’ll be back a lot more often, I’m sure.” Kevin blushed – he blushes most attractively – and said that he had enjoyed the dare. I told him that I’d be showing him how to wait at table once Charlie released him from bondage. “You can have him tomorrow.” “I hope to have him before then,” I said, stroking the still-naked but no longer aproned arse. “Come on then,” said Charlie, “bed, I think.” Fifteen minutes later, the smell of onions no longer about the pair of them, I was in our big double bed with my lover and our current catamite snugly between us. As well as having a cute arse – one of the attributes which weighed so heavily when we looked for a kitchen boy – he had a nice uncut six-inch cock with a sprinkling of hairs. Before long they would have to go, but right now they weren’t a problem. Kevin is both versatile and wonderfully flexible. And he would rival the 15-year-old Tim for the sheer inventiveness of pushing the boundaries of queer sin. ***** I ought to tell you a bit more about Kevin at this point. When Robert had said he wanted to go to college – something which we both supported (financially too – we gave him �100 as a parting gift) – he said that he might have a replacement he could recommend. That was encouraging, given that our earlier recruitment procedures had been time-consuming, as well as (in most cases) fruitless. “Tell us,” said Charlie, who was always in charge of this kind of thing: after all, the boy was primarily a kitchen boy, and only a bedroom boy if his culinary skills were promising. I poured a glass of wine for each of us and Robert settled down (it was after we’d closed for the night, but too early for bed). “As you know, my younger brother and I have been doing stuff since we were 12 and 9. David isn’t interested in learning to be a chef – he started Art College in October. But he used to bring other boys he’d found at school to the house, and one of them, Kevin, is red hot. Well, he’s red hot for David and he’s red hot for me. If he has things – queer things – he won’t do David and I haven’t found them yet.” Kevin sounds promising,” I said, “but as you well know the main reason – the official one, that is – that you’re here is that we train you to be a chef. Is Kevin interested in that?” “He leaves school at Christmas, so he’ll want to earn some money. I’ve told him about what we do – in the kitchen, don’t worry – and he seemed interested. ‘Could you teach me that kind of stuff?’ he said. ‘No, of course not, I’m going to college to get proper qualifications,’ I said, ‘but the two men I work for would, I’m sure. They’ll need another boy when I start college next month’. He looked really keen. I don’t know whether he’s interested in bedroom stuff, but I guess you’ll give him a thorough interview.” He grinned, remembering the very thorough interview he had been given after the 20 or so initial applicants had been weeded down to just two four years earlier. (The other one failed to attend the interview because he had flu: his loss and Robert’s gain.) Remarkably few job interviews take up a whole weekend, quite a lot of it spent in the kitchen. Charlie and I grinned too. “I imagine we’ll find time,” said Charlie. “Will you bring him to see us?” Robert said that such a request had been anticipated, and Kevin would accompany Robert to the restaurant on the following day after school. “Tell him to tell his parents what he’s doing, and that it’s a job interview. He’ll be home by 10, tell him. If that seems late for a job interview tell him he has to know all the things that go on in a restaurant, and that includes cleaning up when the customers have gone.” Robert promised to say nothing about the things that went on in our restaurant after the cleaning up had been accomplished. “Good boy,” I said, and – as his glass was empty – bahçeşehir escort I took his hand and led him upstairs. Charlie followed, putting out the lights. The next evening was a hoot. We had a quiet night for once – the pre-Christmas round of parties was still two weeks away and most of our regulars were taking a week or two off from rich food. Thus when the two boys arrived at 6 o’clock there were only two tables booked, and both of them were early eaters. I left Charlie and Robert to do what needed to be done in the kitchen, and I took Kevin into the office, sitting him in front of my desk, all formal-like. At least it was worth pretending that a proper job interview was about to start. “How old are you, Kevin?” “I will be 15 in two weeks, Sir.” “I’m not Sir, Kevin, I’m Patrick, and my partner is Charlie. That’s what you call us.” Yes Sir, sorry, Patrick.” “Robert tells me you’re leaving school at the end of term, and that you think it would be interesting to work for us here.” He nodded. “Do you know anything about cooking?” It turned out that his mother had involved him and his sister (a year older) in what went on in the kitchen from an early age, and both of them were fairly competent at basic stuff. “Like what?” I asked – our basic stuff and Kevin’s mum’s basic stuff might well be very different. “I can do a proper breakfast, bacon, eggs, all that stuff. I can make a cottage pie and … ” I stopped him there. “That sounds pretty good, Kevin, not many boys start here with the basics already under their belt.” I asked him to stay while I went to consult Charlie for a moment. In the kitchen they were busy, but not too busy to accept a glass of wine. “He’s got a good basic knowledge of everyday family food,” I said, “I’d like him to come through and make a cottage pie, which he says he can do. Do you have all he’ll need?” Charlie turned to Robert. “Your first introduction to restaurant management, Robert. Do we?” Robert mentally ticked off everything that would be needed for pastry, for the filling – “with vegetables?” “Of course.” A few seconds more thinking. “Yes, Charlie, we do.” Very well,” I said, “can he come in and prepare it now?” “Yes, we’re in control here. I’ll clear him a space where he’s not under our feet and he can get on with it.” “In that case, Robert, go into the office, give him this glass of wine – taking your own – sit in my chair and talk to him for five minutes. If after four minutes you feel inclined to go round to his side and kiss him – you do kiss, I suppose? – that would be helpful. Then when I come in unexpectedly – and you make damn sure it is unexpectedly, Robert – the next few questions I have to ask him will seem more natural.” Robert’s grin, already complicitly wide, got even wider. “You see, Robert, how much you’re learning about the other skills of management,” said Charlie, “this one’s usually called seduction. Off you go.” Four and a half minutes later I was outside my office. The talking has stopped and the murmuring which replaced it some seconds ago had stopped also. Count to 10, Patrick, and breeze in. My timing was pretty good. Their lips were still engaged on their task. Robert slowly stood up. Kevin’s expression was one of horror and a gorgeous blush rose slowly up his neck. “Pull up the other chair, Robert, sit down, and explain some of the other aspects of your job.” It was Robert’s turn to be shocked. I nodded. “Yes, Robert. I come in here and find you two all over each other, and that tells me that Kevin is as interested in you as we are. So go ahead. But before you do,” I went on, turning to Kevin, “nothing that gets said in this room in the next five minutes gets spoken about outside this room? You either agree or you go home now.” Robert turned to Kevin. “Stay, Kevin, it’ll be worth it, I promise.” Kevin promised. Robert spilt the beans. Kevin’s eyes indicated keen interest (they were not the only part of him signalling) and when Robert had finished (describing in some detail a particularly energetic night when we were celebrating Charlie’s birthday) Kevin looked me in the eye. “I’ve never done it with a man, Patrick, but it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.” I smiled and told him that the only hurdle still to be overcome awaited him in the kitchen. “You’re not going to get Charlie to fuck him?” said Robert in surprise. “No, Robert, he’s going to make a cottage pie.” Charlie did fuck him, as did I, during the following weekend when Robert came in to hand over. It was a busy couple of days, what with one thing and another. Oh, by the way, Kevin is 5’1″, slim, uncut, 6 inches rising to 7.5 if he’s really trying, nice smooth balls, arse like … well, you’ve seen it, haven’t you. And best of all, from the point of view of celebratory occasions, his birthday and mine are only a few days apart. For a brief few days therefore, Charlie got to fuck a 14-year-old again. “Quite like old times,” he said as the four of us finally fell asleep at about 1 o’clock that first Sunday morning. ***** The fuck the three of us shared after Bill and Ben had gone was pretty good too. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 141 as arrangements for the final voyage get under way. The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and the boy I describe as “me” is really cute. I’m sure he had adventures … I will be reacquainting myself with these pictures in Queen Mary 2 when I make another pair of Atlantic crossings in April. There will be a three-week pause in the adventures of our eight friends. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. =============================================================================

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