Queen Mary Scat Games with Bobby by badboi666
=============================================================================== If scat-related 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 such things between teenagers 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. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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You probably need a bit of introduction to this story. I (Patrick) and my twin brother Tim (both 16) are Bell Captains on Queen Mary - the real one, that is. The date is May 1938. We are in charge of six bell boys (all 15) whom we hire out to service male passengers who want sex with cute teenagers (we're all cute, naturally). Our stories are to be found in the Adult-Youth section under the title "Queen Mary Bell Boys", and the episode related here occurs in the middle of Chapter 101. The Nifty guys don't seem to mind a bit of piss creeping into the story, but shit is a step too far, but not, as you'll soon discover, for Bobby, who is just 13. Bobby, who is travelling with his "uncle", was visited by one of my bell boys - Vincent - the day before this story and expressed a desire to be shat on, but Vincent had had no warning, and of available shit there was none. Today, however ...
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At 1400 Tim knocked on Bobby's stateroom door as arranged. He hadn't had a shit since I told him about the plan 24 hours ago, and his bladder was getting uncomfortable - just how we both like it if fun and games are to be had. The door was opened by the man whom Bobby called "Uncle" (whose name we never discovered: not that it mattered - he had parted with the $280 I'd asked for, so he could call himself Genghis Khan for all I cared). Tim was dragged in by an excited Bobby. "Oh, you're not Patrick!" "No, I'm Tim, his younger and far sexier twin brother. How did you know I wasn't Patrick? We're supposed to be identical." "He has a spot on his chin and you don't." Simple really.
"Uncle" said he would be back in an hour. "Enjoy yourselves, you two. There's plenty of soap and smelly stuff to make you presentable again afterwards," and off he went, leaving Tim and Bobby looking at each other. Tim, the true professional as always, asked Bobby what he wanted. "Before you tell me, let's get our stuff off, and you need to know that I'm going to have to piss in ten minutes at the most." Bobby giggled. "With me it's about two minutes, so let's get into the bathroom."
Some of the staterooms in which we played with clients had very small bathrooms - no bath at all, but a shower. When we first joined the ship in 1936 from the slums of Liverpool neither of us had ever seen a shower, but now we could hardly remember not showering at least twice a day (and more often if the needs of clients required us to appear fresh as daisies). This stateroom, however, was up on Deck 9 and had a bigger bathroom with a proper bath as well as a separate shower. Tim took all this in: it would be impossible to get the stink of shit off in a bath, so it would be shitting in the bath and cleaning up in the shower. These things need to be planned.
When they were both naked Tim ran about an inch of hot water in the bath. "What's that for?" asked Bobby. "I thought you were an expert at this," said Tim, "lying in a cold empty bath is no fun, but if you're lying in warm water you can relax and enjoy all the hot warm water that's going to pour onto you." Bobby grinned. "Like right now?" "No, hold it till you're bursting - it's better that way. You still haven't told me what you want." Bobby got into the bath and laid down on his back. His cock was a nice hard five inches or so, rising from a little patch of hair, with good-sized balls in a smooth-as-baby's-bottom sac. Altogether right up Tim's street. Those of you who know us will know that Tim and I (and all the other bell boys) are routinely shaved, so that Tim had less hair than Bobby. He did have a couple more inches of cock though. He and I aren't tremendously well-hung, but we make up for that by being extremely inventive (and skilled, though I say so myself).
"Come on, Bobby, spit it out." "I want you to shit on me, Tim." "OK. Do you want to shit on me?" "Can I?" "Of course you can; that's why we're here. You want to play with it, Patrick said. What does that mean?" Bobby squirmed. "I don't really know. A boy at home told me about what he did with his big brother - he said they played with it - but I don't know what he meant." "Well, you'll know everything there is to know in an hour, Bobby, I promise," said my inventive and plausible brother. After all, he thought, 'playing with it' can really only mean one thing.
Having got all that settled Tim stood over Bobby. "You said you could only wait two minutes. Let me lie down and you can piss on me first," he said. They changed places. "Kneel so that your knees are beside my hips. That way you can aim your cock anywhere from my balls to my neck. I don't want piss on my face." "Nor do I," said Bobby, "it stings if you get it in your eyes." This was news to Tim - our occasional piss games invariably were carried out with eyes closed if the piss was coming from above our heads. Bobby knelt. "I'm bursting," he said. "Do it then, but only a bit. Keep plenty back." A few seconds later a stream of golden piss flew from Bobby's cock, splashing onto Tim's chest. "Mmm, that's nice," he murmured, rubbing it into his skin, "don't do any more." Bobby stopped as quickly as he could. "You do me now," he demanded.
They changed places and Tim soaked the boy from his neck to his belly. Bobby squirmed happily. "I love the feeling of hot piss splashing on me," he said. "Uncle doesn't do piss withe me, but he knows I love it, so he's happy for me to play with boys who do." "Does Uncle fuck you?" "Oh yes. He's been fucking me since I was 9. He's not really my uncle. I'm an orphan and he looks after me." "Do you like being fucked by Uncle?" "Yes, but don't let's talk about him. I want to do things with you, Tim." "Stand up then, and we'll do something different."
Bobby stood up, piss running down his legs, and Tim knelt and put his lips round the boy's cock. Nothing happened, so Tim said, "I want you to piss, Bobby, it's fun." Before applying his lips again Tim gently rolled back Bobby's foreskin and licked the exposed glans. Bobby shuddered and an involuntary jet of piss hit Tim's face. Unfazed by this he clamped his lips back on and nodded. Bobby started to piss, the flow increasing as his confidence in pissing in a forbidden - and hitherto untried - place grew. Tim swallowed, losing none of it. After 20 seconds or so Tim signalled that Bobby should stop. The piss went on for the inevitable few seconds while Bobby struggled to cut off the flow. Tim stood up, a big cheesy grin on his face. "Fuck me, Bobby, you piss a lot!" "Didn't it taste horrible?" "No, it tasted of piss. I like swallowing piss if it's not too strong. First thing in the morning is vile, but if you've drunk a lot beforehand it doesn't taste of much at all." He paused. "You should try." Bobby was hesitant, but Tim was having none of it. "Come on Bobby, this is all about new things. Try it for a few seconds." Tim stood and Bobby, after a moment's hesitation, knelt and applied himself to the task. Tim drew back his foreskin and Bobby licked all the right places. Clearly Uncle and he knew about such matters. Bobby gingerly took Tim's cock - half-hard by this time - into his mouth and Tim put his hands gently on the boy's head. "Here it is," he whispered as the piss started to flow. Bobby swallowed manfully and after five seconds Tim stopped. Bobby removed his mouth long enough to say "more", so that hurdle was satisfactorily negotiated. Tim pissed on for another ten seconds - he wanted both of them to be able to go on pissing off and on for the rest of the hour.
"I liked that a lot more than I thought I would," said Bobby. "Good. From now on either of us pisses when he likes where he likes - not on faces, we agreed - without warning. Suddenly feeling hot piss hitting you is very sexy. OK?" "Yeah. But when are you going to shit on me?"
Tim told him to lie down again in water that was still warm, but now distinctly yellow. "I'm going to squat over you and start to shit. I'll face away from you so you can see my arse open and the shit coming out. Once I feel the piece of shit touching your chest I'll move down towards your feet so that the shit lands in a line down your middle. When I've done all I can I'll come back up again. Don't touch the shit unless it looks like rolling off you into the water - if that happens pick it up and put it back. OK?" "Yeah. It sounds really hot. I want it now, Tim. I need to shit really badly too - will I be able to soon?" Tim assured him that he would be shitting within a few minutes, and got into position.
"See if you can get a finger up my arse," murmured Tim, "go on, it won't hurt." Bobby wet a finger and pushed it into Tim's ring. "Wow! I can feel your shit." At that moment Tim began to push gently and Bobby felt hot sit pushing his finger out. He could see Tim's arse opening, only a few inches from his eyes. He'd never seen this before, and as Tim's arse opened wide and the shit began to be pushed out Bobby was in ecstasy. He felt the weight of the turd as it touched his chest. As Tim slowly scooted away from him he saw the turd fall onto his chest and make a line down his belly. When it was about 10 inches long it broke in two. "Fuck!" breathed Bobby, "that's so hot, Tim." "There's more, hang on. Feel up inside me again." This time Bobby had two fingers into Tim's arse, still open. He could feel more squishy shit. Tim pushed hard, and the last few inches coiled round onto Bobby's cock - exactly where Tim had aimed.
Tim stood up. "Like what you see, Bobby?" "Oh Christ, yes. I've dreamed of this for years. Every day when I shit I wish it was with another boy." "You are one sick kid, Bobby - just like me." Without warning Tim squatted down and pressed his body onto Bobby's, the shit smearing both their bodies. Bobby's eyes widened at the sensuous overload this caused: the heat of the still warm shit spreading over his whole front, the stink, the sheer depravity and awfulness - all these filled his brain with conflicting messages of heightened pleasure - added to now by more intense feelings as he felt Tim's piss coursing over their filthy bodies. "Like that, Bobby?" whispered Tim. Bobby nodded. "I'm pissing too," he said after a few seconds.
"Come on, turn over. It's time for you to perform," said Tim. He stood up and Bobby rather gingerly began to stand as well. His whole front was plastered with wet shit from his nipples to below his balls. Tim smeared most of it into the boy's skin before lying down in the now brown water. "Come on, Bobby, shit on me. Do it where you like. Anywhere from my chest down."
Bobby had much less control, perhaps because he had much more urgency. He squatted over Tim's belly. "I want to watch you as I do it," he said. Tim grinned. "Yeah. Me too. Go on, Bobby, push like fuck." Bobby required no further inducement, and fifteen seconds after he started there was a large pile of shit on Tim's belly. Bobby was breathless with the effort. "Stay above me and piss as much as you can," said Tim. With a considerable effort Bobby went on hovering above Tim while he emptied his bladder, the piss gushing onto Tim's body, guided a bit by Tim who reached forward to hold the boy's cock. Tim still had a good amount of piss left. He knew where it was going to end up.
"I can't keep up any longer," cried Bobby and he sat down into the pile of shit on Tim's belly. Tim reached down and got as much as he could in his hands. "Come on up here," he said, "while I give you something to remember." Bobby wriggled forward and knelt, his knees either side of Tim's ribs. Tim then smeared shit - whose? did it matter? - onto Bobby's cock (instantly fully erect) and balls. Bobby closed his eyes in sheer pleasure. "Oh, Tim, I want this to go on for ever." "You do mine now." Bobby got his hands on Tim's cock for the first time, and rubbed shit into it. "And my balls. And my arse," instructed Tim. Bobby was a good pupil, and within a couple of minutes they were both covered.
"There's three things left," said Tim, "get down on all fours with your arse in the air." "You're going to fuck me," said Bobby gleefully and got into position. Shit is a wonderful lubricant and Tim's cock was straight into Bobby without any hesitation. "Oh, fuck, that's hot, Tim." "What about this then? It's called pissfucking," and Tim emptied the rest of his bladder deep inside the 13-year-old. As he wasn't expecting it he made no effort to keep the volume of piss in, and while Tim was still pissing it was flowing out of Bobby's arse down the boy's legs. Tim kept his cock in after he'd finished. He reached round and felt Bobby's cock - hard as iron and demanding release. "Yes, Tim," breathed Bobby, "wank me hard - make me come with your shitty hands."
As they were both in the bath it was possible for Tim to wank Bobby with one hand while holding, rolling, squeezing ("aaah!") his balls with the other. Very soon ,,, ah! ... aah! ... aaaaaaaah! and spunk flew from Bobby's shit-covered cock into the filthy water. Bobby - breathless but fulfilled - stayed on all fours while the sexual tension slowly ebbed from him. Tim pulled his cock out. "Lie on your back. I'm going to cum on you." To Tim's great surprise and delight Bobby said "no, wait." He reached for a face flannel and wiped Tim's cock as clean as he could, then gave Tim the most unexpected blow job of his life. He told me afterwards that his cock must still have had a lot of shit on it, but Bobby hadn't seemed to be bothered. "I came buckets, Patrick. We've been missing out, you and I."
Five minutes later the shit had all gone down the bath plug, washed down with lots of hot water. Fifteen minutes after that the two of them - each washing the other - had had four showers, three with soap and the fourth with the "smelly stuff" - which turned out to be expensive (and very efficient) shower liquid of some kind. Neither of them could smell shit on the other, although in a room still heavily redolent of their recent pleasures they weren't the best judges of whether somebody smelt a bit shitty.
They left the bathroom and dressed. There was no sign of Uncle. "Will he mind the smell in the bathroom?" , "I don't suppose so: he knows what was going to happen, after all." "Did you enjoy that, Bobby?" "I think you know the answer to that, Tim. In two days' time we'll reach port and I'll never see you again. I will never forget the last hour as long as I live." "That's nice, Bobby. I hope you meet a nice boy when you get home who wants to play shit games as much as I do." Tim gave him a chaste kiss.
When he put his head round the door of Cabin 1 I had a good sniff. "You'll do," I said, "now tell me all about it."
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