James Stuart
the Erotic Historian

The Country Manor

Chapters 19-20

Still he had not been idle in the past weeks. Once he had returned to the Manor after that terrible day when the boys were taken, he set about organising a large scale search of the Manor grounds, and the local area. Finding Jack was obviously a very high priority, and so Sam had investigated where the man had been living since he was thrown out of his job, and also what he had been up to. He soon discovered that Jack had been forced to leave the cottage he rented in the village, it seemed he had no savings, and thus could not afford the rent when he had lost his job. After that Jack had lodged with a local farmer, doing some odd jobs to pay for his board. However Sam learnt that the farmer soon threw Jack out after he had found him messing about with his young son. From there Jack had fallen in with a rather rough crowd, and could well have taken part in various criminal activities, though the local constabulary had no proof of him doing anything illegal. The upshot of all this was that in the weeks before the kidnapping Jack was of no fixed abode, and since then no one had seen nor heard of him. Three of his known associates had also disappeared, and it was assumed that these men had also taken part in the kidnapping.

Apart from his investigations locally, Sam had dispatched letters to all his known friends and associates, as well as to the police forces in all the neighbouring areas, and many further afield. A number of the members of his secret club were powerful men, and he had appealed to them to use their influence to ensure the disappearance was investigated as fully as possible. He had also been forced to write to all the club members in any case to call off the February and March parties, which for obvious reasons, neither he nor Charles would have been in the mood for. Many of the guests had returned letters expressing their sympathy, and understood Sam's position. Others were less kind, grumbling about missing out on enjoying some boy flesh for a couple of months.

Another unpleasant task that Sam had carried out was travelling down to Jamie's farm, and informing his parents about their son being kidnapped. Not surprisingly his mother in particular took it very hard, and Sam assured them both that he would do everything in his power to get their boy back. Neither parent blamed Sam, and obviously recognised that he shared their distress, having lost two sons of his own.

Yet despite all his efforts, Sam Grange had still received no news as to the whereabouts of the missing boys. He leaned back in his armchair and stared over at the other side of his study, to look at his remaining son. Charles was sitting on the floor reading a book. The young boy had still not come to terms with the disappearance of his two brothers and little friend. Sam had try to console him the best he could, but when the boy saw anything that reminded him of his missing brothers, he would often burst into tears. Actually the squire had hardly been separated from his boy at all during the last five weeks. He knew that the kidnappers had tried to get Charles as well, and Sam was worried that they might come back to try again. Consequently Sam rarely let the boy out of his sight, and he now permanently carried a revolver in his pocket. Charles was even sleeping in Sam's bed at night, as the boy refused to remain in his own room in that big bed which he had shared with his two brothers. Sam was surprised that after the third night following the kidnapping, the young boy started wanting sex before they slept. Sam had hardly been in the mood, but he recognised that during the time the two were coupling, it at least took their minds off the terrible events that had occurred.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and after he had bid the person to come in, a young maid entered the study.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but this telegram has just arrived."

Sam took the small piece of paper, and stared at it wondering who may have sent it. The moment the maid had left, he tore it open, and quickly read the contents.

Have news on your boys, please come to London

The telegram was signed by none other than the Prince, that member of the royal family that had frequently been a guest at one of the Manor parties. Like he had with many of his other friends, Sam had written to the Prince appealing for help, but he had not expected he would be the one that would discover anything. Still right now that was unimportant, this was the first bit of news he had heard in five weeks, and whilst Sam was a bit annoyed the Prince had not told him what the news was in the telegram, he knew there had to be a good reason. The squire consulted his watch. The next train was leaving in two hours, he intended to be on it.

"Charles, go upstairs and pack yourself a few clothes, we're leaving for London immediately,"

The local train took a half an hour to reach the nearest main line, where Sam and Charles changed to a fast train to London. Charles had been rather surprised at his father's sudden announcement, but was excited at going on the trip, as it had been some time since he had gone to London. Of course he was even more excited about hearing some news concerning his brothers and Jamie. He speculated that they may have been found, and would be waiting for them, but Sam told his son not to get his hopes up. Sam was only too aware that 'news' could just as easily be bad as good. Sam had considered leaving Charles at the Manor, but he was still uneasy at letting the boy out of his sight.

On arrival at Kings Cross station, they immediately hailed a taxi and were soon making their way to the Prince's London residence. The taxi stopped outside of a tall regal looking home, part of a long terrace of similarly grand houses located in one of the better parts of this large city. Sam paid the driver, and the cab trotted off down the road. After pushing the large doorbell at the entrance, the main door was open by a young servant, who bid them to come inside. The servant was a rather tall boy, he looked around 17, with long brown hair, combed neatly to give him a rather regal appearance. He was dressed very formally in a butler's outfit, and was a very good looking young man, which was hardly surprising given the tastes of the master of the house.

"I'll inform his highness that you are here," the boy said in a posh voice, after taking the name of the new arrivals. Sam and Charles were left standing for a while before the teenager returned.

"His highness has been expecting you. He is in the drawing room, you may see him now, follow me please."

The boy led them to a door down one of the corridors, and then with a bow he departed. Charles was so impatient he was about to open the door and run through until his father stopped him.

"Charles, I want you to wait outside for me here, I'll tell you what I've heard when I have finished talking with the Prince."

"What! I want to listen too," Charles complained.

"Just do as I say," his father returned sternly, and pointed to a chair in the corridor. "Just sit there till I come out."

Reluctantly Charles obeyed, and Sam knocked at the door then walked inside, closing the door behind him. In truth he had no objection to his son listening to the conversation, but Sam was worried that the Prince might have some very terrible news indeed, and if so, he wanted to break that to his young son himself.

"I'm glad you could come so soon," the Prince said to Sam as the two men warmly shook hands. "I'm sorry that the telegram was a bit brief, but some of the things I am going to tell you are a bit delicate, and not to be broadcast via the telegraph."

"I understand," Sam replied.

"Good. Well I'll start with the good news, I am almost certain the three boys are still alive."

This was what Sam had been wanted to hear for over a month now, and as the emotion overwhelmed him, he staggered back and fell into one of the armchairs, which was rather rude given that the Prince was still standing. In any case, his highness did not care, and was happy to see the obvious relief on Sam's face. He too took a chair, and drew it close to his friend.

"So where are my boys?" Sam asked at last.

"Unfortunately what I just gave you is the only good news, in truth we have no idea where your boys are, but we think we know who has them, and why he wants them."

"What! Who? Why? Where is he?" Sam stammered.

"I think it is best that I explain what I know, and how the investigation has progressed, it's only in the last day or so that a lot of things have come to light."

Sam nodded for the Prince to continue, and so he started.

"Well firstly I should say that your two sons and their friend were not the only boys that disappeared around that time. I am now aware of some 18 boys, of whom twelve were the sons of gentry, and six were commoner boys. There maybe more that were unreported, particularly if they were street boys, or sons of gypsies, we do not know. Nor are we certain that all these disappearances are related, but obviously it was suspicious, and the investigations of each were co-ordinated by an inspector Benson here in London. I'll mention more of him later, but unfortunately he is not the most competent of fellows.

Anyway, I managed to persuade the inspector to keep me informed on the investigation, which he has done. Finding a link between the individual kidnappings was difficult, as the boys taken were from all over the country, and no political or other connection between the affected families could be found. However our luck changed a few days ago when the police caught a man that had seized one the boys. He was not one of those that had taken your sons, indeed we have had no success in finding your former gamekeeper, or any of his accomplices. However, after interrogation this man eventually confessed, and told all.

What he said was that he was hired by a foreign gentleman to kidnap one boy belonging to a wealthy landowner in the North of England. He did not know the name of the man that employed him, but his instructions were to take the boy to Southampton, where he was to be handed over. This he did, the hand over occurring in a Warehouse number 23 at the port. We have since searched the place, and found nothing, but we did learn that a Mr Abdul Sefah used the warehouse. Now when I heard that I immediately thought about the Turkish man that stayed at my house for a short while about six months ago. He was called Abdul Maffah, though I now guess that both names were false. If you remember I brought him to one of your parties.

"My God," Sam exclaimed "I do remember him, he was the man that had wanted to purchase my sons. Was he behind the kidnappings then?"

"I did not know for certain at first. Yet I was suspicious, as I had introduced him to one other family who have also lost a son. I have since found out that he met all the others later on, as he travelled extensively in England, officially to promote trade links. When we questioned the man we had captured, the description he gave matches that of Abdul Maffah."

"So if he has my boys, all we have to do is find him?"

"Yes, but unfortunately that could be easier said than done. We have discovered that on the day after the boys were handed over at the warehouse, a Turkish registered ship left Southampton. I think we can assume that both the kidnapper, and all the boys are now out of the country."

"No matter how far he has taken them, I will chase him to get them back," Sam said angrily.

"I am sure you would, but right now we have no idea where the man has taken the boys. We do not even know if he intends to keep the boys himself, or sell them at a slave market. Such a thing might sound unbelievable to an Englishman, since slavery has been internationally banned for a while now, but such markets do still exist, particularly in Africa and the Middle East."

"Yet even if he does sell the boys, he is likely to return home at some point," Sam added. "If so I will find him there and get him to tell me where the children are."

"Yet we do not know exactly where his home is," the Prince added, "We could guess it was Turkey, but even if it is, Turkey is not a small country, and in truth he could be anywhere in what remains of the Ottoman empire."

"What can we do then?" Sam asked desperately.

"That's what I want to discuss now, but first I will call for some refreshments."

The wait outside of the door was increasingly frustrating Charles. He was just as eager to find out about his missing brothers as his father had been, but had been told to remain outside. Sam was so absorbed in the conversation with the Prince, he had clean forgotten about his young son.

At first Charles tried to listen in on the conversation through the door, but unfortunately the large wooden portal was so thick he could not hear a thing. Unable to find out anything, he sat sullenly back down. The youngster was pretty disappointed in the Prince's house, as he had rather expected them to visit him in some grand palace, not a just a town house, albeit a rather nice and well-decorated one. Charles was also surprised at how few servants were around. He had thought that someone as important as the Prince would have a home filled with staff, dashing around doing their master's bidding. Yet he had only seen that one young servant who had answered the door, and the deathly quiet indicated that if there was any more staff, there were certainly not many.

With little else to think about, it occurred to Charles that he and his father had left for London in such a hurry that they had skipped lunch. Now the hungry boy's stomach was starting to rumble, and Charles wondered how long he would have to wait before he might get something to eat. Well, he decided, if I am not allowed to listen to the adults talk, I might as well go and find some food. He thus got up and wandered down the corridor, wondering where the kitchen might be. He knew enough about this kind of house to guess that this was probably located in the servants' area in the cellars, and finding a narrow staircase leading down, Charles promptly took it.

At the bottom was a large room, and Charles soon worked out that he had found the kitchen. Yet once more there was no one around. Couldn't the Prince afford any staff? He expected this place to be buzzing with people cooking elaborate dishes. Still the young boy was more interested in food than anything else, so he started looking round to see if there was anything he could eat. Soon after he had started he heard sounds coming from nearby. He strained his ears, and could definitely hear gentle moaning. Charles determined the noise was coming from behind one of the doors at the far end of the kitchen, and with his curiosity aroused, he quietly made his way over.

The door was slightly ajar, and when Charles peered through the narrow gap, he was astonished by the sight before him. There, in a small pantry, lit only by a narrow sky light above it, was two teenage boys engaged in a rather vigorous fuck. Charles recognised the boy doing the fucking as the one that had let them into the house, his long hair now ruffled, as he rocked his head back and forth in ecstasy. His fine trousers had been pulled down to his knees, and the teenager was thrusting his rock hard penis into the asshole of the boy in front of him. The fuckee looked a bit younger than his mate, probably around 15 or so, though he was every bit as handsome, with short dark hair, and a gorgeous round ass. He too was dressed in fine clothing, though he also had his trousers round his knees. The younger boy did not seem to mind at all that a reasonable sized teenager pole was currently thrusting in and out of his rear, and was furiously masturbating his own prick as he moaned in pleasure.

Now normally Charles would have been surprised to see servants engaged in such activity, particularly ones of the same sex. However, considering the sexual tastes of the Prince, it was hardly surprising that he should elect to have two such lads on his staff. Charles settled down to enjoy the show, and feeling his own penis rapidly hardening, he started to undo his pants in order to pull it out. However, precisely at this moment, the boy almost jumped out of his skin as a loud bell in the kitchen wall rang out.

"Oh shit," the boy doing the fucking shouted, "I am almost there."

The bell rang again, and so the boy reluctantly pulled himself out of his partner and leaned down to pull up his trousers.

"Looks like his highness wants something, you better get up there and find out what he wants."

"Why me?" the younger boy complained, and looked every bit as disappointed at the interruption.

"Because I am the butler, and you're the page boy, that means you do as I say."

The page pulled a face at his friend as he too pulled up his trousers, and started to make himself look more presentable. Charles realised that he would soon be coming through the door, so he quickly backed off, so they would not realise that he had been spying on them. All the same the younger of the servants was rather startled when he saw Charles standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Err, I'm Charles, I came with my father to see the Prince, and I was looking for something to eat."

"It's alright Michael, I'll see to him, you get upstairs and serve the gentlemen," the older boy said, as he exited the pantry. Michael quickly left, leaving Charles alone with the 17-year-old butler. It was a young age for such an important position, but obviously the Prince had no one else to fill the role.

"My name is William," the tall teenager said, after he had eyed the youngster for a while, "I will fix you a sandwich if that is okay."

Charles indicated that would be great, and sat down at the kitchen table whilst the older boy prepared the food.

"Where are all the other staff?" Charles asked. "I had expected a Prince to have hundreds of servants."

"No, his highness doesn't like too many people around. Only Michael and me are resident servants, though there is a woman that comes in to do all the cooking, and three days a week a girl comes in to help with the cleaning. So why have you been left on your own?"

Charles explained that he had been excluded from the conversation of the two men, and made to wait outside. He also told William why they were here, and how much he wanted to hear any news about his missing brothers.

"That's typical of adults, leaving you in suspense like that," the young butler said in disgust.

"I don't suppose you know anything then?" Charles asked hopefully, not wishing to wait any longer.

As it happened William knew a fair bit, as the Prince had been concerned with little else than the boy kidnapping incidents for some time. He thus filled Charles in on most of the details that Sam had already learnt from the Prince. Young Charles was relieved that the Prince thought his brothers and friend were okay, but was most distressed to find out they had almost certainly left the country.

"But has no one any idea where they might be now?" Charles moaned.

"No, unfortunately not. That's what his highness is trying to find out. He is asking everyone who met the Turk to see if they have any ideas as to his true identity, or where he might live."

The teenager paused for a while before continuing.

"Of course master is only asking the numerous gentry the villain came in contact with, but I reckon he might learn more if he asked some of the servants as well, it's often the lesser folk that may discover some detail."

Charles thought the boy had a point, but then wondered whether the statement might have been said for more than just idle chatter.

"Do you know anything then?" Charles asked.

"Oh, probably not, but the Turk did stay here for a while, and although Michael was not working here yet, I was working for the Prince at the time as his page."

"Did you find out who the Turk was?" Charles said excitedly.

"No, but I might know something of use."

"Tell me, please, please, it might lead to where my brothers are," Charles pleaded, and leaping to his feet, leaned over the table towards the older boy on the other side.

"Well it's probably nothing, and it was all a while ago now, and I am not sure I can remember the details."

"You have to remember, try, please."

"Hmm, it's difficult, I wonder what might help me remember better."

Charles was confused at that, what could possibly help with someone's memory. Then it hit him how stupid he was. The young man was clearly having no problem with his memory, however he was holding out in the hope for some payment for the information. Charles could not blame him, domestic servants were not well paid, and it was little surprise he wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to supplement this.

"What if I pay you 10 shillings, will that help."

"Hmm, that should do it," William indicated.

"Okay, tells us what you know then."

"Well the funny thing about my memory is that it works better when the money is in my hand."

Charles had to smile, this boy was certainly smart. Still this did present him with a problem, and that was he had no money on him at all. Although Sam was fairly wealthy, he never gave his boys money, except at fairs, when he gave them a little to buy some food or to play the games. This was not meanness on Sam's part, all his sons were provided with everything they needed, and he saw no reason for them to carry cash. For their part, the boys never complained about this.

Of course Charles knew he only had to ask his Dad, and he would get the money. Yet he was worried that after this he would be sent away and not hear what was said, or maybe William would get into trouble if the Prince knew his young butler was demanding payment for the information. Also Charles was still smarting at being excluded from the discussion upstairs, and now was his chance to find out something, and he wanted to do it all by himself, without any help from his father. This would give him one up on his Dad, and teach him that he should never underestimate his clever middle son.

"Well I don't have the money on me, but maybe I could offer you something else."

"Oh, what exactly?" William was a bit concerned that the young kid might offer him some dumb toy. Of course this was not what the crafty young Charles had in mind, and he got straight to the point.

"I wondered if you might be willing to accept my ass instead of payment. Unless that is, you only fuck page boys."

William almost dropped over backwards when he heard this. He had hardly expected such an offer from so young a boy, nor the crude language used to deliver it. To add to his surprise was the shock that Charles had been watching him bugger Michael in the pantry.

"But, but, surely you are too young for such things, how old are you?"

"I'm 13, that's more than old enough," Charles replied.

"And you have been, well, in your words, fucked before?"

"Oh yes, plenty of times, and by bigger cocks than yours as well."

William shook his head in disbelief. He had been introduced to the wonders of sex at the age of 15, shortly after entering service in the Prince's residence. It had never really occurred to him that younger boys would do such things, and he wondered at what age Charles had started. On second thoughts he decided he did not want to know.

"So the deal is I get to fuck you, and then I tell you what I know. I have to warn you that the information I have may be of no use at all."

"I want to hear it whatever it is. Please agree, I guarantee you will love fucking me, and besides I bet you haven't buggered much gentry before."

Actually William had fucked the Prince, so he had had his cock up royalty. All the same he had never fucked anyone as young as the gorgeous young minx in front of him. Although he did want the money, the idea of getting into the boy's shapely buttocks was making the horny butler very hard. His body was still frustrated at having to break off its coupling with Michael, so William's mind was soon made up.

"Okay, I agree, but payment in advance."

Charles squealed in excitement, and started to unbuckle his trousers belt. William was a bit worried about fucking the youngster here in the kitchen, it would not look good if he was found buggering the guest's son. Yet it had gone too far now, and so he quickly moved round Charles' side of the table. When he arrived, the younger boy had already bared his bottom, his trousers were pushed down to his ankles. Charles then cleared a section of table, bent himself over it, and wiggled his bottom invitingly at the elder boy. William gulped at the lovely sight. He stood still for a moment while he admired the youngster's beautiful buttocks. They were pale white, firm and fleshy, but not at all fat. Unable to be satisfied with just looking, the young man dropped to his knees and buried his face into the soft warm flesh of Charles' bum. Alternately kissing each firm cheek, William ran his hands up and down the younger boy's flanks. He then prised the buttocks apart, and gazed at the treasure located within. Charles' pink asshole opened slightly at this, and gave some evidence to the boy's statement that he had been well fucked before.

As William buried his tongue into the younger kid's bum hole, Charles squealed in delight, his own cock now rock hard, and bouncing against the underside of the kitchen table.

"Fuck me now," the youngster gasped.

The young man rose back up, and tore down his trousers, releasing his rock hard penis, which sprung up vertical against his belly. Pre-cum was already leaking from the swollen head, so with no further lubrication required, William quickly lined it up against the youngster's asshole. He yelled in pleasure as he shoved it into the breach, and started to slowly sink down into the boy. William took his time, since he wanted to stretch out as long as possible the enjoyment of the initial penetration, and also because he was concerned he did not hurt the boy beneath him. He needed to have no worries on that side. Of all Sam's boys, Charles was the one that most enjoyed having a large pole stuck up his ass, and loved nothing better than a good hard buggering. Impatient to get all of the young butler's cock inside him, Charles pressed his rump back to speed up the process.

When William's loins met the soft behind of the younger boy, the young butler was certain he had been right to take a fuck rather than the money. This was without doubt the tightest, hottest little ass he had had the pleasure of penetrating, and so he paused a while to enjoy the constriction of the boy's anal channel on his own cock. However, sensing the impatience of the kid beneath him, he commenced a steady fucking action. William was amazed at the things Charles did to further increase the pleasure of the fucker. The horny young imp was continually rotating his hips, and manipulating his anal muscles to squeeze the hard prick inside. Without doubt, this was one boy that was born to be fucked.

As both boys got more and more excited, inevitably the fucking speeded up, and it soon drove Charles over the edge, as he splattered the underside of the table with his semen. William continued banging away, until his hormones got the relief it had missed whilst fucking the pageboy, and he flooded Charles' anus with spunk.

The two boys lay panting for a while, before they finally parted and restore their clothing. Charles had a huge grin on his face, and had clearly enjoyed the 'payment' he had given to the servant. As soon as the boys had recovered, Charles was eager to know what it was that William knew about the Turk.

"As I told you before, it's probably nothing, but it might be important. I really do not know much about the Turk himself, but I know a bit about the boy servant he brought along with him. He was about Michael's age, and was a beautiful lad, with dark skin and black hair. Since the Prince and his guest often went out alone together, me and this other servant got to spend quite a lot of time with each other. Unfortunately he did not speak any English, and I don't know a word of Turkish, so communication was clearly a problem. In any case we could both tell we had the hots for each other, so it was not long before we were spending our time making love up in my room. The language of sex is pretty universal, and the fact we could not talk together did not stop us from having a great time. Now I noticed that the lad had a tattoo on the top of his left buttock. Obviously I was intrigued to know why he had it, and so after a long process of sign language and sketches, I found out that he was once in a boy brothel. Such things seem to exist were he lived, and that all the boys in the place were given the tattoo. I also discovered that it was from this brothel that the Turk had purchased him. Now I guess you're wondering how all this identifies the Turk, but I reckon if you found out from the tattoo where the brothel was, it is a reasonable guess that the Turk lives close by."

It was a long shot, but that did not seem to bother Charles, who was quickly convinced that William was right.

"Great, do you remember what the tattoo looked like?"

"I can do better than that, I actually have a drawing of it, would you like to see?"

"Yes please," Charles replied, and jumped up in excitement.

The two boys quickly made there way up to the attic, which was where the two resident servants had their rooms. William's room was small, but nicely furnished, with a large soft looking bed in the centre. Charles sat down on this, whilst the young butler retrieved a bundle of papers from under the bed.

"As you can see, I am quite fond of drawing."

As William searched through the drawings to find the one he wanted, Charles looked through some of the others. It was soon clear that William was not just fond of drawing, he was very good at it as well. Some of the drawings were sketches of various objects in the room, but the majority was of human subjects. Of these a lot were of the pageboy Michael, and Charles was amused to see that William had persuaded the lad to pose nude.

"Michael's my willing model," William said, when he saw Charles admiring one of his nude portraits. "Here is one of the Turk's servant boy," and he handed the younger boy another drawing. Charles looked at a sketch of a very handsome youth in a rather erotic pose, where his erect penis was sticking up high. "He loved it when I drew him, and he would sit patiently for hours," William commented.

"Found it," a voice yelled in triumph, and he pulled out a sketch of the boy's tattoo. It was circular, with a number of small strange looking symbols within it. Charles had just started to study it, when he heard his father's voice crying out for him.

"Oops, better go," he said, "You don't mind if I borrow this for a while," and he leaned over and gently kissed the older boy on the lips. It was all the payment he needed, and William indicated that the drawing was his to keep.

Sam looked very harassed when Charles ran down to meet him, he had no wish to lose his last remaining son.

"I told you to stay put," Sam said sternly.

"I'm sorry daddy, but I got bored."

Sam shook his head disapprovingly, but had neither the time nor the inclination to punish the boy. The pair immediately left, as Sam wanted to visit the inspector that was investigating the case of the missing boys. In the carriage on the way to see him, Sam filled Charles in on all he had learnt, though the boy had already heard a lot of it from William.

The inspector proved to be every bit as incompetent as the Prince had implied, and the man was most displeased when Sam insisted that his young son sat in on their discussions. Unfortunately the police had learnt nothing new, and the advice of the inspector was for Sam to sit tight, and leave the investigation to the proper authorities. When he left the station, Sam was certain that if it were left to that fool, he would never see his sons again.

Charles finally mentioned the drawing he had been given when the two of them had stopped in a small café just outside the station. Sam was pleased that his son had actually come up with something, but admitted to the boy that it was very unlikely that they could find out the origin of a place simply from a tattoo. Still he had absolutely no other leads, and having nothing to lose the pair set out to visit an old friend of his, who was a don at the local university. This man in turn referred them to another scholar, one that was an expert in Middle Eastern history and artefacts, and Sam asked him to try and find out where the origin of the tattoo might be. He mentioned that he though it could be from somewhere in Turkey, but he was not sure. The expert, who was called Professor Mills, was not certain, and said he did not really have the time to research into the matter. It was only after Sam had offered him a generous reward for discovering its origins that the man agreed to take on the task.

Sam decided that they would remain in London for a while, both to see if any more information came from the official investigation, and also in case Professor Mills discovered anything about the tattoo. The Prince was very happy to put them up at his home, and so Sam and Charles shared a very grand guest bedroom. During the day, Sam and the Prince were frequently out, trying to see what they could discover, but Charles normally remained in the home, under the care of the two young servants. Not surprisingly these three quickly got up to various erotic games once the two older boys had finished their duties. They sucked, fucked and otherwise played with each other in every conceivable situation, and the two servant boys were constantly amazed at their young guest, who never seemed to tire of riding one stiff cock after another. Charles particularly liked it when he was fucking Michael at the same time as William was ramming his cock up the young teenager's own tight asshole. Whilst they were resting, William took advantage of being able to sketch two boys together, something he had not been able to do before. The two younger boys held various lewd poses for him, and by the end, many of the drawings were downright pornographic.

After almost a week of waiting, Sam was starting to get very frustrated. He had been to see Professor Mills most days, but was always given some excuse, like he needed to talk with a colleague, or he was waiting for a book to be delivered that could help him. However on the morning of the fifth day of their visit to the Prince, a message was received from the university that Professor Mills had some news for them. Straight after getting this, Sam and Charles departed to go and see him.

"It is good of you to come so quickly," the Professor remarked after Sam and Charles had been shown into his office.

"As you know, I need the information urgently," Sam replied. "So what is it that you have discovered?"

"Well, I'll start by saying that I was initially perplexed, until I found out that the symbols within this drawing are in fact of Greek origin, not Turkish."

"What, so it came from Greece?"

"Not exactly, although they are Greek symbols, I am now fairly certain that they are Ionian Greek."

"What's the difference?" Sam asked.

"Ionian Greece is the name given to the many Greek cities that once prospered along the western coast of what is now Turkey. These cities have long been destroyed, and this drawing has some symbols that originated from one of them."

Sam was a bit disappointed with this answer, he had hoped that the tattoo had come from a brothel that still existed. "I have been told that these symbols are still in use," he explained to the professor.

"That is quite possible, indeed my guess is that they were used by the Turkish city of Izmir, which lies close to the ruins of the Greek city associated with these symbols. It is quite common that a city uses symbols or ideas from a lost civilisation nearby."

"So if I wanted to find exactly who drew this, then I should visit Izmir?" Sam asked.

"Seems the best place, but of course they may have been used from almost anywhere," The professor got up, and moved round to the same side of the table as Charles and Sam were sat.

"There is something else I should point out. Do you see these marks here," The man pointed out various characters on the drawing, and then rather unexpectedly covered up Charles' ears.

"These are sexual symbols frequently used by brothels," he whispered.

Sam was not surprised at hearing this, as he knew the tattoo had been placed on an occupant of a brothel.

"And what's more," the professor continued, his hands pressed even tighter over Charles' ears. "The symbols imply that it was not a female brothel, but a male one. Such things were quite common in the Greek areas at the time, as the men were rather fond of young boys."

Sam tried to look shocked, but the man was not telling him anything he did not already know. All the same it convinced him that the professor had done a good job, and had not simply made it all up to get his payment. As he knew the part about the symbols being associated with a boy brothel was correct, he assumed that the man was also right about from where they had originated.

The whole thing could still be a red herring, but now Sam finally had a name of a place to go. He knew the sensible thing was to remain in England for further news, but he was driven by his emotions, not his logic. Something made him think that this mysterious clue would lead to his sons, as if fate itself had placed it in his path.

Having made his decision to go to Turkey, Sam returned to the Prince's house and informed his highness of his plans. The Prince did not agree with Sam's thinking, but understood that the man could not simply wait idly if there was the remotest possibility of him finding his sons. The Prince assured his friend he would continue the investigation from here, and would try to send Sam some word should he find anything out.

Sam's next visit was to the local shipping office where he found out about how to get to Turkey. He had decided to go by boat, even though it would be quicker to go by land. Unfortunately the land route passed through a number of unstable countries, and Sam thought it was more important that he actually arrived at all, than he be there a week or so earlier. Britannia ruled the waves, so he felt safer on a boat. The shipping office explained to him that the best route was for him to travel to Gibraltar from Southampton, and there change ship for a vessel that sailed to Athens. From Athens he could get a boat to Izmir. The visit to Gibraltar was another reason Sam wanted to go by boat. He was sure that if the Turk's ship was bound for the Mediterranean it would have passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, and quite likely had docked to refuel at the British Naval port. He wondered if he might be able to discover its final destination from the authorities there. At the very least he needed to know if the ship had indeed passed through the Straits, since if it had continued down the coast of Africa, it was clearly a waste of time for Sam to go to Izmir. Sam decided to catch a boat that left Southampton the following evening, as that would give him sometime to return home and get his affairs sorted out before he left. He was well aware that he could be gone for quite a while.

His next port of call was his London bank, where he made a considerable withdrawal to ensure he was not short of cash on his journey. Sam was aware that he might have to end up buying his son's and Jamie back, and he wanted the necessary funds to do so.

Catching the next train home, they arrived back in the late afternoon, and Sam set about organising things. He dispatched a number of telegrams, and informed Stephen, the new foreman, that he would be looking after the estate for a several weeks whilst he was away. Fortunately Stephen had proved to be an excellent replacement for Jack, and was a good deal more competent, so Sam felt he was leaving the Manor in good hands. To keep a check on things, Sam asked the doctor, who lived locally, to be formally in charge of the purse strings, even if he had no role in the day to day running of the estate affairs. He also left the doctor in charge of the next party at the Manor, and any future ones until he returned. Charles commented with a laugh that he was sure the next party would have a medical theme.

This left the thorny issue of what to do with his middle son. He was reluctant to be parted with the boy, but he was concerned that the journey he was about to take could have its dangers, and he felt it was safer that Charles remained behind. He thought the best solution was if he went to stay with his sister, but when Charles heard the suggestion he was horrified. The idea of being under the care of his cousins' old nanny was unthinkable. Besides, he wanted to help find his brothers, and as he correctly pointed out to his father, if it was not for him they would have never have found out about Izmir in the first place. Sam was sympathetic, but still unhappy with his young son accompanying him. However, when Charles said that if he was left behind he would runaway and find his own way to Turkey, Sam relented. He knew only too well that his son meant it, and if so it would be better if he came with Sam, where his father could keep an eye on him.

The pair left early the following morning, where they again took the train to London, crossed over the city, and then caught another train to Southampton. Once on board Sam could see that Charles was very tired, they had been up late the night before getting ready, and the young boy had been so excited he had not slept much. Thus shortly after they had sat down in the train compartment, the boy stretched himself out and dropped off, his head lying in his father's lap. Fortunately there was only two other people in the compartment, an elderly woman, and a pompous looking gentleman, so Charles and Sam had one side to themselves. The old woman smiled as she looked at the tranquil scene of the boy sleeping, whilst the man scowled when he noticed the lad had the cheek to have his boots on the seat. In first class as well!

Sam took no notice of either of his fellow passengers, but simply ran his hand through his son's long dark hair, and gently stroked the face of the sleeping child. As he gazed lovingly at his peaceful little boy, it struck him how much alike Charles was to his mother. His face certainly had an almost feminine appearance, though Sam knew only too well that underneath Charles was all boy, and would box the ears of anyone that said otherwise. As he was reminded of his wife, Sam once again thought of how much he still missed her. She was such a wonderful woman, a good mother and wife, always happy and laughing. In some ways she was a bit like a boy herself, being a bit mischievous, and was always the one that liked to get hands on with any problem. He guessed that was what had attracted him to her in the first place. Sam knew only too well how different his life would have been these last years had she not died, particularly sexually, but he still wanted her back. Yet that was impossible, and he knew it. Cut down by disease in her youth and beauty, she was lost to him forever. Yet his missing sons were not, and Sam was determined he was not going to lose anyone else, he would go through anything to get them back.

On arrival at Southampton, they took a taxi to the port, and Sam purchased their tickets. They then boarded the ship, which was a steamship, though not a particularly large one, and located their cabin. Having dumped their luggage, they knew they had quite a few hours to wait. The ship did not depart till late into the evening, and it was still only mid afternoon. They had lunch to kill some time, but after this, since they were so close to the docks, Sam thought they might as well have a quick look round. It was a long shot, but he wanted to see if there were any clues to what had happened there some nights back, when his sons and Jamie were taken to the docks before they were put onboard ship. He knew the police will have already investigated, but there was a chance they might have missed something, or he might chat to someone who had seen something.

So with his ever present son, the two of them left the ship and went off to explore. He had hardly been wandering around the docks for a more than a few minutes when Sam was wondering if this was a good idea. The area was filled with some rather unsavoury characters, in addition to some dubious looking taverns. Sam was certain it was no place for a gentleman, and in particular his son. A fair number of prostitutes hung around on corners, or in doorways, the women putting on a smile for him as he went past. It was not the depravity of the area he objected to his boy seeing, given the things his young eyes had already witnessed in the Manor parties, this was mild by comparison. He was simply concerned for the boy's safety, should any of the roughians decide to try and relief Sam of his wallet. Fortunately Sam had a revolver in his pocket, so he was ready to face anything nasty.

Since he was here, he decided he might as well try his luck for information. On him Sam had two photographs, one of each missing son, which he had had taken a couple of years back. They were slightly out of date, but the boys had not changed that much. He showed the photos to many of the people they met, to see if any of them remembered having seen the boys, but he always got the same shake of the head. The prostitutes he asked were generally more interested in getting him as a customer than in looking at the photos, but some of them were sympathetic when he explained his boys were missing. After an hour or so of such investigations, there was a moment of excitement when on seeing the photos, a man beckoned the pair to follow him. They did this, and Sam was getting a bit concerned when they went some distance down a rather dark alley. However the man stopped, asked Sam to wait, then disappeared into a rather broken down doorway. A couple of minutes later he returned, and with him were a couple of boys. Unfortunately they were not John and Billy, but two street boys, 11 or 12 years of age, with scruffy fair hair and blue eyes. They were barefoot and dressed in little more than rags, with one of the boys' small genitals in sight through a large tear in his shorts. It dawned on Sam that the man had thought he wanted any two boys looking like the ones in the photos.

"They will suck you for a sixpence, or a shilling for their bottoms," the man announced, and the two children smiled up at Sam, almost begging him to take them. As pretty as the two were, it was not what he was looking for, and after thanking the man for his help, both Charles and Sam quickly retreated back to the main street, ignoring the shouts of the man saying they could have them both for four pence.

After this little episode it occurred to Sam that it was not only female prostitutes selling their bodies in this area. Now he was thinking about it, it was obvious that a number of the teenage boys he saw loitering on the streets were looking for customers rather than trouble. As they continued to wander round, he noticed here and there a younger boy, typically with an older kid or a man, but obviously available for just a few coins. Sam showed one man his photos, and as the chap was slowly shaking his head at them, a young boy stood next to him, no older than 8 or 9, said.

"Please mister, I suck good, and you can fuck me hard, please sir, I'm so hungry," The plea was given in such a heart rendering voice, that Sam, much against his better judgement, slipped the boy a shilling then went on his way. He knew giving money was to invite being pestered by beggars, but he felt so sorry for the little kid. As soon as Sam's back was turned the man with the boy made a grab for the coin, but the young scamp was too quick for him, and with a dodge ran off down the street to spend his prize at one of the street stalls in the area.

After a few hours of no luck, Sam was about to give up. It was almost dark now, and the boat was due to leave in another couple of hours or so, so he thought it best that they got back. The pair had wandered into a part of the docks where there were less folk around, it was right on the quay itself, but no loading or unloading was happening at this time. As they started to walk back, Sam still stopped to ask people, and show them his photos, and one elderly looking man paused as he saw them, then scratched his head as if trying to recollect something. Sam looked eagerly at the man, hoping he knew something, but Charles was paying no notice. Having seen nothing but shaking heads or dubious looks, the boy had given up hope of finding out anything, and so was just looking around. Suddenly his eye caught a large number over one of the buildings, the number 23.

"Look daddy, it's warehouse 23, that's were John, Billy and Jamie were taken," and the boy immediately ran off towards it.

"Err, heh, come back," Sam yelled, and quickly turning back to the man he had been showing the photos he said "Well, have you seen them or not?"

"Well, hmmm, maybe, the older boy looks familiar, but let's see, where did I see him, hmmm, let me think."

Meanwhile Charles had reached Warehouse 23, and had discovered the huge doors at the front were locked. However the doors did not meet very well in the middle, and Charles, with a bit of effort managed to squeeze his slim frame through the gap and into the building.

On gaining entrance, the boy paused for a short while. It was quite dark in here, the sole illumination coming through two large skylights high in the roof, but as it was almost nighttime outdoors, only a little light shone down into the huge area of the warehouse. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, Charles could make out many crates, sacks and other such objects scattered around the building. As the realisation hit young Charles that the three boys that meant most to him in the world had been in this very room just a few weeks ago, his heart started to beat fast, and he was gripped with a crazy thought. What if, in his haste to get away, the Turk had missed some boys. What if he had locked a few in some crate, and they had been forgotten. Illogical as such an idea might be, it crept more and more into Charles' young mind, until it had overtaken his good sense entirely, so that it was the only thing he could think about.

"John, Billy, Jamie!," he yelled desperately, and then started running from crate to crate, either trying to prise them open or knocking on them in the hope that any trapped persons inside would give a response. He ran quicker and quicker, and as his heart started to burst, tears formed in his eyes as he thought of the boys he loved having starved to death in one of these accursed crates.

"Heh, Woyh, who have we here?," a voice said out of the darkness, and suddenly Charles was brought back to his senses, as he felt himself being grabbed around the waist and lifted into the air.

"Well, if it isn't young Master Charles, what luck it is us running into one another again," The voice was low and rough, and it was a voice that chilled Charles to the very bone. The voice of the one man he loathed the most. It was Jack.

"Let me go, let me go," Charles wailed, his legs kicking in the air as he struggled.

"Now, now, let's not be unsociable laddie, not now we have only just met up, now quieten down," Charles was about to let out a cry, but he felt the cool sharp point of a knife scrape his throat, and the scream died in his lungs.

"One noise out of you boy, and it will be your last," Jack said, the malice dripping from the words as he spoke. The child remained silent, only the heavy thumping of his heart could be heard. Jack lowered the boy to the floor, and then hauled him down so that they were both sitting, with Charles' back leaning against the man's chest. Charles was beside himself with fear, he just could not understand what Jack was doing here. Yet the explanation was simply enough. After handing the boys over to the Turk, Jack had remained near the docks as he decided what he would do next. He knew he could never return to the area he had come from, since Charles had no doubt informed everyone that he was one the kidnappers, so he was well aware that he was a hunted man. However, the money he had been paid for his evil deed had not lasted long, as he it squandered it on drink and boys. Not even having the cash for a room in an inn, he had returned to the same warehouse he had delivered the boys, knowing it was easy to break into, and unoccupied at night.

A heavy silence fell on the pair, and then Charles shivered in disgust as he felt the revolting man rubbing his nose into his hair, and he could smell the man's vile breath.

"Oh, how lucky I am to have found you Master Charles," Jack said breaking the silence, emphasising the word 'Master' in a mocking tone. "I have fallen on rather hard times you see, and with you, I can make a nice living. In this area, there is a big demand for pretty boys like yourself. Let me see, a common street boy sells his ass for a mere shilling, but for a fresh, noble boy like you, I should be able to get twice that. Now, if I can get ten customers per day, that's, Wow, a pound a day, you're going to be a goldmine. Ten cocks up your ass a day, that's not too much for you, is it pretty? I know what a horny little rear you have. Mind you, most of the customers are big sailors round here, who like fucking a boy hard, and treating him rough. Oh yes, it is time some luck came my way, you are really…"

"Step away from that boy," a voice cut out of the darkness, and interrupted Jack's rambling. "Let him go, I have a gun, whoever you are, I warn you I will shoot."

Sam had arrived on the scene. Having finally realised that the old man he had been talking to knew nothing, and had been simply hoping to get a payment, Sam had dashed off to find his son. Being too big to squeeze through the gap his young son had used, Sam had gone to the rear of the warehouse, and managed to get a window open. As he searched for his son, he had heard voices and gone to investigate.

Jack froze when he heard the voice, breaking him from the dream he had been conjuring for what he could do with Charles. Yet when he recognised the voice of his former master, the squire, a kind of grim calm had settled on him, like a man that is about to face an expected date with destiny.

"Ha, if it isn't that old windbag, Mr Grange, you have pointed a gun at me before and nothing came of it, and this time I have a weapon myself, and I have your boy."

The room was very dark, and the two men could only just make out the shape of each other in the dim light, yet Sam knew the voice of his former gamekeeper immediately, and his mood swiftly changed to one of rage.

"Jack, is that you? You bastard, what have you done with my sons?"

"Oh they earned me a few crowns, little more, certainly not enough to compensate me for losing my job. Still they are far away now, you will never see them again."

Sam took a step forward, and he stared intently on the shadows before him. In his fury he momentarily considered shooting for the man's head, but he soon dismissed the idea. Not only was it too dark to be sure of his target, but his hand was now shaking, and he was never a great shot even when he was calm. He knew he could not risk hitting his son. All the same the step forward was enough to give his former employee the jitters, and his voice rasped out.

"Come no closer Grange, or I will kill your boy now," The point of his blade pushed further against the boy's neck, and poor Charles let out a yelp. Sam froze in his tracks, and then said.

"Come Jack, let us sort this out properly, as men. We do not need weapons, let the boy go, and we can fight properly with fists, don't you want the pleasure of hitting me."

Jack laughed when he heard this. "What, do you think I am one of you gentlemen friends, that will recognise a matter of honour, and will bravely step into a duel. You underestimate me, I have the edge, I have your son, now lower that weapon immediately, or you will lose the only child you have left."

Sam hesitated, unsure of his next move, but Jack was impatient.

"NOW!!," he yelled, and rapping his arms tighter round the boy, crushed him enough to cause him to squeal.

"Alright, alright, I am putting the weapon down."

"Very good right down on the floor."

Sam obeyed, and Jack could see the heavy revolver lying on the warehouse floor.

"Now kick it over to me."

Again Sam hesitated, but Jack would not wait. "I shall count to ten, if you have not kicked it over, the boy dies. One, two, three, four, five, six…" Jack stopped when he heard the sound of the weapon being kicked towards him. He could see it properly know, he could make out the smooth wood on its handle, the long metal barrel and trigger. For him, it looked a beautiful weapon, one of which he would be happy to own, but first he had a task for it.

Reaching over for the gun, Jack pulled his hand back when he realised it was slightly further away than he had thought.

"Well my friend, it is payback time," Jack chuckled, then he lunged for the revolver. In so doing his grip on Charles loosened, the knife falling away from his captive. Charles seized his chance, he wriggled from the man's grip, and immediately ran away. He had barely covered two paces, when he heard an almighty bang behind him. Spinning round the boy saw the two dark shapes of the men, the crouching Jack, and his standing father. For a few heart-stopping moments nothing moved, but then the crouched figure slumped back and fell on his back. Charles immediately ran over to his father, and threw his arms around him. Sam stood for a moment like a statue, the small, single shot hand pistol he had pulled from his jacket still gripped tightly in his hand. He had only brought the weapon along as an after thought, yet he realised now that it was a decision that had saved his life.

Sam broke out of his trance, and spent a few moments comforting his young son before he told Charles to remain where he was while he walked over to Jack. When he approached the motionless figure he bent down to inspect it. The bullet had hit Jack in the chest, possibly puncturing his heart, Sam knew he had had a lucky shot. It was clear the man was dead, and although it meant Sam could learn nothing more from him, he was not sorry. Lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, was the man that had been the cause of so much heartbreak for his family, Sam would feel no guilt over his death. Still he knew it was unwise to remain here any longer, so retrieving his revolver, he returned to his son. Taking the boy by the hand he led him to the window he had used to get in, and the pair clamoured out. Sam glanced around to ensure they had not been seen leaving the warehouse, but no one was around, and the sun had completely vanished now, so the entire area was shielded in darkness.

Walking quickly away, Sam thought about the little he had learned from the wretched man. He now knew for certain that his sons had been amongst those taken to warehouse 23, and then placed on board a ship. He was now more determined than ever to sail to Turkey and find them, it was clear they were no longer in England. As the man and boy left Jack's body long behind them, Sam had no fear of being brought to account for the shooting. Murders in this rough area were not uncommon, and no doubt when the body was found the next morning, the investigation would be short, and not particularly thorough. In any case, he would be far away by then.

It took some twenty minutes of brisk walk before they once more saw the ship that would take them to Gibraltar. The quay and the deck were swarming with arriving passengers, clambering on board with their luggage, or waving to friends and loved ones that were to remain behind. Sam and Charles pushed through the crowds and made their way up the gangplank onto the ship. Halfway up, Charles saw something that made him stop, then his face lit up in sudden joy, and he ran the rest of the way, flinging his arms round a figure stood on the deck. It was none other than Colonel Henry McDonald, the Scotsman having swapped the military uniform he normally wore at the Manor parties, and was standing there in rather more practical travelling clothes.

"Ohh, Uncle Henry, have you come to help find my brother and friend," the boy wailed, tears now streaming down his face as he hugged the old man, the horror of what had happened that night wiped away in his joy.

"Of course me dear laddie, you dinna think I would miss owt on this little adventure did yer."

Sam had joined the pair, and he shook the old man warmly by the hand. "Thanks for coming Henry, I'm sorry for the rather short notice."

"Twas no problem Sammy, I got yer telegram last night, and was on the first train out of Edinburgh in the morning. Of course I came, you know there's nothing I won't do for you or yer boys."

"I have to warn you Henry, we could be chasing shadows, but I will be pleased to have your experience along. You have been to Turkey before?"

"Yes, but only briefly. When I served in the Scot Grey's during the Crimean war we stopped in Turkey on our way to Russia. The Turks were our allies then, but on the whole they made pitiful soldiers. It pains me to think one of them scoundrels has nabbed yer boys."

Meanwhile, Charles, who had finally let go of the old man, was searching frantically round his waist for a missing item.

"Uncle Henry, where is your sword?"

The old man broke into a huge smile, then bending over so he was close to the child's ear, he pointed at a long thin case that was part of his baggage. "Dinna you worry lad, I have that with me, and if anyone comes between me and yer brothers, they'll have some of her majesty's steel to contend with," Charles just beamed and hugged the man once more. Now he knew there was nothing stopping them.

Chapter 20
Sharpshooter

Sam, Henry and Charles had spent two days at Gibraltar, and as well as showing Charles the rather cute apes that lived on the rock, they had spent a lot of time asking various officials and companies if they knew anything about the Turk's boat. The port authorities told them that a vessel of the correct name docked at the port some six weeks earlier, and they confirmed that it had passed through the straits into the Mediterranean. Unfortunately the crew had failed to fill in the next destination part in the ship's leaving papers, so Sam still had no firm idea of where it was going. They also found the commercial company that had re-supplied the vessel. The manager told them that they had delivered both coal for the boat's boiler, and extra food. The man had found two things a bit strange about his customer. Firstly they had refused to allow any of his own men on board whilst the goods were delivered, and secondly the large quantity of food that had been supplied. He had seen the boat had a crew of less than a dozen men, and had wondered why they had taken so many rations on board. This confirmed to Sam that the ship was indeed carrying a reasonable number of captives, so like the Prince had said, it seemed certain now that a lot more boys had been taken than the three he was searching for. Sam was pleased to hear that at least the kidnapper was feeding his young charges.

Overall the stopover in Gibraltar had not told him as much as he would have liked, but it did not contradict his present course of action either. He was still determined to push on for Izmir.

Turning round Sam looked over at his young son, who was sleeping peacefully on his stomach in the single bed they shared. The covers had been pulled down as Sam had got out, and apart from the lower part of his legs, all of the boy's lovely nude frame could be seen. The small strip of light from the porthole fell directly across his gorgeous white bottom, enhancing the eroticism of the scene. Sam did not want to disturb his son, but unable to resist, he walked over and gently kissed each of those voluptuous globes. It had been a light contact, but it was enough to bring the boy out of the sleeping world, and he awoke, looking round alive and alert, in that wonderful manner that only children seem able to achieve.

Charles smiled at his father, though this quickly turned to a frown, and he said.

"Why are you already dressed daddy? I thought we might have some fun this morning," Admiring the boy's sexy body had given the man a hard on, and there was little he would have liked more, but unfortunately he had other plans.

"I would love to precious, but I have no time now. I met a Turkish Gentleman in the bar last night, and I have agreed to play bridge with him in the lounge. Hopefully he might be able to tell me something useful about his country, you know, customs and the like."

"Okay. Can I come and watch?"

"Oh Charles, you know children are not allowed in the lounge," The boy pulled a face when he heard that. The ship they had embarked on was certainly a larger, grander one than that they had caught in Southampton. It was an Ocean Liner that had sailed from America, but it had lots of silly rules.

"Just stay here," Sam said, and spotting a book on the bedside table, he added "Why don't you read your book for a while, what is it?"

"It's great," Charles said enthusiastically. "It is called Ancient Myths and Legends of Turkey, I found it in the ship's library. Maybe I will find something useful as well."

"Ha, well I can't see how a legend can help us," Sam laughed.

"But it can daddy. I read yesterday about a dragon that lives in the hills there, if we can find it, and tame it, we could take on an army," Sam smiled when he heard this. Sometimes he forgot that how ever clever his son was, he still had the imagination of a child, though Sam would never wish to take that from him.

"Just stay out of trouble," was the last thing Sam said, and after kissing the boy on his eyes and his lips, he got up and left the room.

Charles sulked a bit at first when his father was gone, and although he picked up his book, he was not in the mood for reading. The plain fact was he was feeling randy, like he did most mornings. His cock was rock hard, and he was eager to please it. Unfortunately he had not had sex at all the night before, as Sam had not returned to their room until after the boy was asleep, and now his adolescent hormones were screaming for release.

"I know what, I will go and play with Uncle Henry," the kid shouted out, and leaping out of bed he dashed over to the door which led to the old soldier's cabin, since it was adjoined to theirs. The youngster's idea was immediately wrecked when he looked in dismay at the old man's empty bed. Either Henry had joined his father in bridge, or he had gone for one of those earlier morning walks the old man was so keen on.

"Poo," Charles said, and walked disconsolently back to his own bed. Lying back down, he could well have resorted to the final resort, that one good friend that never deserts a man or boy in their hour of need, namely the hand. Yet although Charles knew very well how to masturbate, he had simply never done it alone. Growing up with two horny brothers, he had always had playmates for sexual games, and the idea of doing it on his own was almost perverted.

Thinking of his brothers made his heart weal up again, he missed them so much. His dad and Uncle Henry did their best to keep him happy, but he longed for the company of other boys his age. Being on a large ship like this, Charles was certain he would be able to find another boy he could make friends with, but alas that had not been possible. On this ship, the only other boys were very small ones, closely chaperoned by eagle-eyed nannies or mothers. None were either over 8 or under 18. Just his luck, there was no shortage of teenage girls, as for some reason there was plenty of them on this journey. Girls, Yuk! what was he supposed to do with them? He had only met a few in his young life, and they had all proved to be dull and boring, running off to their mothers at the slightest hint of mischief. It seemed he was destined to have no friends on this boat.

Returning to his book, he tried to lose his frustrations in a tale about a sea monster that ravaged the ships of the Aegean, and after a half hour of this, his cock had become limp, but he was still feeling randy. He had just reached a particular violent bit involving a sailor being eaten alive, when there was a light knock on the door. Charles wondered who it was, the cleaners did not do their room till early afternoon, but assuming it was a chambermaid of some sort, the boy covered himself up and shouted out for whoever it was to come in.

Imagine his surprise when through the door came not some woman, but a boy, about his age, dressed in a smart uniform. It was if God had been reading the boy's thoughts, and had sent him a playmate from the heavens. However, rather than offering Charles a quick fuck, the newcomer looked rather startled when he saw the boy in bed, and stammered.

"Err…, Sorry to disturb you, but it is Wednesday, I come around and clean the passenger's shoes and boots. I can come back later."

"Oh, no, no, you can do them now, if you do not mind," Charles said quickly, not wanting to let the boy disappear now that he had found him. Charles pointed to a corner, and said that his and his father's footwear were normally kept there.

As the youngster walked into the room, Charles had a good look at him. He had short light brown hair with brown eyes to match, and his face was finely made, having a slim, regal appearance, with red pouting lips. Although not a stunning beauty, the kid was still quite handsome, certainly to a sex-starved teenager like Charles. He looked very smart in his cabin boy uniform, and Charles wondered why he had not seen him before. Obviously this ship tried to keep its younger crew out of the way of the passengers. No doubt another silly rule.

"Err, I only see a single pair of boots here. Is that all there is?" the cabin boy said.

"That can not be right," Charles replied, and getting out of bed, went other to see. All that was there was his father's spare boots. As Charles stood there calmly assessing the situation, the other boy's face had gone completely red. Naturally young Charles had not a single thing on, and was stood there with everything laid bare for all to see. The young shoe cleaner was astounded to see that the raven haired boy seemed completely unconcerned at his own nudity, which of course was the situation, Charles having no shame of his body, particularly in front of another boy. Too embarrassed to mention it, the cabin boy said nothing.

"Hmmm, I have a pair of boots as well," Charles mused, then wandering over to the cupboard he pulled a pair out. He walked back over to the still speechless boy, placed them next to his father's pair, then added. "Now I have some shoes, they should be somewhere in here." He glanced around, and then got down on all fours to look under the bed. Arching his back and spreading his legs, Charles gave the cabin boy a rather obscene view of his very shapely ass. Although the young crewman was still stunned by the other lad's shameful display of his naked body, he couldn't pull his eyes away from it. Looking straight at the little pink asshole, which was in full view given Charles' adopted position, the boy noticed the anus was slightly open, so he could literally look right into the other boy.

"Found them!" Charles announced in triumph, and pulling out a pair of smart brown shoes from under the bed, he wandered over and handed them to the cabin boy. Determined to regain some composure, the brown haired boy decided to find somewhere to sit where he could get on with his work, and not look too conscious about being rather better dressed. There was only one chair in the room, and that was cluttered with various books, some open on a particular page.

"Can I move those?" the boy asked, in as composed a voice as he could muster, but it still came out rather squeakily.

"Hmmm, you better not," Charles replied, "Daddy is looking at these books, and it is better if they are not disturbed."

"That's okay, I will sit on the floor."

"Oh, that is not very nice, you can sit on my bed," Charles pointed at the other single bed in the room, which was currently fully made up. "I mean Dad's bed," Charles quickly corrected himself, realising that it would look mightily suspicious if he admitted that he was sleeping in his father's bed. In fact he had not spent a single night in his own bed, as he preferred squeezing in with his dad, even if it was a bit cramped. They normally messed the other bed up a bit before the maids came round in the afternoon, so it would look like both beds had been slept in.

"Err, alright," the cabin boy said, and picking up the boots, shoes and his cleaning box he went over to sit on the bed to work. He did not want to argue, as he was keen for the other boy to return to his bed, so to relieve his own embarrassment. He started to work on Sam's boots, keeping his eyes on his work so as not to make it look like he was staring. He heard the bed creaking, and assuming it meant that the other kid had got back under the covers, he looked up and was stunned for a second time. Far from covering himself up, Charles was lying on his stomach above the blankets, calmly reading his book. The cabin boy blushed again, and lowered his eyes. Yet he couldn't stop himself from shooting glances at the beautiful pale body stretched out in front of him. He could not understand why, but the sight of the youngster's naked body was making him very excited. Having been bought up as the only child of very prudish parents, the young crewman had been taught how sinful nudity was, and one should never reveal one's body to others. He had hardly ever seen anyone naked, not even another child. Before he had managed to get this job through a friend of his fathers, he had always had a bedroom of his own. Now he shared with three adult crewmen, but they always slept in the undergarments, and apart from the odd flash of a bare chest he had never seen any of them nude. He didn't really want to either, as none of the men he shared with were particularly attractive.

However the boy before him was another matter. His skin was perfect, white, smooth and unblemished. No amount of fat sagged from Charles' lovely body, and his beautiful snowy buttocks curved up perfectly from his straight back, before descending again to meet his long slim legs. The cabin boy felt his penis start to harden, something that had been happening a lot recently, though he did not understand why, having never been told even the most basic things about his growing body. Mostly he had found it a nuisance, as he was conscious of it showing through the tight uniform he wore. As he worked furiously on the boots, his eyes kept gazing more often and for ever longer periods at the forbidden sight before him. He was sure the other boy was too interested in his book to notice his stares, but he blushed furiously when the nude boy suddenly turned his head and gazed straight into his eyes.

"Oh, we have not been properly introduced," Charles said. "My name is Charles." He stretched his hand out to the startled boot cleaner.

"Err, err, I'm Thomas, Thomas Simpson," he stammered.

"Pleased to meet you Thomas," With the conversation started, the cabin boy decided to ask the one question that had been burning in his mind since the other boy had first popped out of bed.

"Are you normally, err, like this inside the cabin?"

"Like what?" Charles asked, knowing exactly what he meant, but wanted to hear the boy say it.

"You know, undressed, naked."

"Oh, well only if there are no ladies present. I prefer sleeping and reading nude, it's more comfortable, don't you think?"

"Err, well I don't know, I have never tried."

"Shame, why not?"

"Mother says that a man or a woman should never show their bodies to anyone, except when they are married."

"But you are not a man."

"What, I am!"

"Nonsense," Charles exclaimed, "You are just a boy like me. How old are you?" Thomas blushed at being told he was just a child, and mumbled that he was thirteen.

"Thirteen, so am I," Charles said. "What month is your birthday?"

"December."

"Oh, me too, what day."

"10th."

"I was born on the 12th, so you are two days older than me, what a coincidence. Still I am surprised, I thought you looked smaller than me."

"I am not!" the other boy replied, not liking the accusation of being small, particularly now he was a worker.

"Well only one way to see," and Charles swung off the bed, and stood up directly in front of the boy. "Come on stand up as well and we can see."

However Thomas' attention was taken by another thing that was standing up, namely Charles' prick, which was erect and pointing its full four inches straight into the air. Stunned he stared a short while at it, then realising what he was doing he blushed deep red again, and quickly bolted upright to take his eyes off it.

"Well we are about the same," Charles said, as he noticed his eyes were level with that of the cabin boy. "But you are wearing socks and shoes, and as you said, I am not wearing anything."

Charles lay back down on the bed again, only this time he lay on his side facing the other boy, his beautiful curved cock in full view. Thomas tried to return to his work, but found it difficult, for some unknown reason he found the sight of the teenager's erection fascinating, and his own prick had got a lot harder.

Charles kept chatting on in his normal way, about all sorts of rubbish. Thomas was not listening to most of it, but he kept looking at Charles as it gave him a chance to sneak a glance at the other boy's hard penis. His eyes grew even wider when he noticed that Charles had started playing with his cock, slowly drawing his foreskin back and forth so that the shiny purple head kept popping into view. Despite his shock over this rather disgraceful behaviour, Thomas was really starting to like the dark haired boy. His friendly manner made a big change to the way most of the guests treated him, they looked down on the cabin boy as if he was a lesser life form. He decided he would seize the opportunity to ask the one question that he had never been able to ask anyone else.

"What makes it go hard like that, and how can you make it go away?"

"Hmm, what?" Charles said with a grin. "Oh, you mean this," and he tugged his cock to show the boy he understood what it was they were talking about. The cabin boy's question had confirmed what Charles had already suspected, this kid was utterly clueless when it came to sex. The cheeky teenager shuddered in delight at the fun he could have teaching him.

"Why do you want it to go away? I enjoy it when it's hard," Charles said.

"Well I do sometimes, but not when I am working, it's embarrassing, I am sure people can tell."

Charles giggled at the thought of some prim and proper lady seeing the boy's erection through his tight uniform.

"Okay, if you want I can tell you how to make it go away."

Thomas hesitated at first, then agreed, he needed to know, and he felt this was an opportunity unlikely to happen again.

"Are you hard now?" Charles asked, he could see the boy was, but he wanted the hapless lad to admit it.

"Err, yes." In fact he had never felt it so hard before.

"Okay, let's start."

Charles swung off the bed, and stood before Thomas again, his boyhood swaying just inches from the kid's face. He took the shoes from the boy and placed them on the floor, then pushing him down so that he was laid back on the other bed, Charles started undoing the youth's belt.

"What are you doing?" the panic stricken cabin boy stammered.

"I can't show you if I can't see it, can I?" Thomas realised he had a point, and since he had requested this help, it was difficult to back out now. Yet the thought that someone else would see him naked, particularly given the state he was in, was frightening. No one had seen his genitals since his mother had stopped bathing him at the age of 8, yet that changed as Charles yanked the boy's trousers to his knees. He then pulled up the shirt to get a better look.

"Hmm, that's nice," Charles said as he admired the boy's cock and balls. Not only were the two boys almost exactly the same age, they were also at virtually the same point in puberty as well. Thomas was still hairless, like Charles, and his four-inch penis was about the same size, though it was thinner and straighter than the dark haired boy's.

"Shove up," Charles demanded, and when Thomas had obeyed, the naked boy laid himself down next to his new friend. The very close proximity of the pair was making Thomas excited and nervous at the same time, but when the side of his bottom came into contact with the smooth warm skin of Charles' own flank, it was an added thrill, and he shuddered in pleasure.

"Now you have to manipulate your stick, like this," Charles said, and demonstrated by slowly wanking himself.

"That will make it return to normal?"

"Not straight away, but it's the first step, go on you try."

Thomas started, but it was a rather clumsy, half-hearted effort, with him just moving his fingers up and down the shaft.

"Hmmm, that's not exactly right, let me show you," and pushing away the cabin boy's own hand, Charles grasped the pulsating rod, and started to masturbate the boy. Although embarrassed at another person touching his most private part, Thomas soon relaxed as he began to enjoy the feel of Charles' expert fingers. However when his friend started to draw pack the foreskin, he suddenly yelled out in pain. The boy's shaft had remained firmly within it's covering throughout it's life, and as Thomas had never masturbated before, it was little surprise that the skin was so tight.

"Hmm, I think we are in need of some lubrication," Charles said, and then without further delay, he slithered down and took the boy's tool into his mouth. Thomas almost freaked out when he saw Charles do that, but as soon as he felt the boy's soft lips and tongue lapping away at his privates his complaint died in his throat, and he laid back to enjoy his first ever blowjob. After Charles had sucked the boy for a while, he again try to pull back the skin, and this time it slid more easily, and the small cock head popped out into the world for the first time. Charles licked it, and he detected another shudder of pleasure run through the owner. Swallowing it again, Charles speeded up his motions, whilst stroking the kid's flanks at the same time. From the ever quickening panting he could tell the boy was getting close to release. Thomas could not believe the feelings coursing through his body, he had never felt anything like it before. The pleasure was most concentrated in his groin, and as the other kid sucked him he felt it building up more and more intense directly under his cock, until he was sure it would be too much, and he was going to die. Yet then it hit him, his first ever orgasm, and as his hips bucked with his cumming, he screamed out in delight, and then went limp.

Charles straightened up to look at the boy, as he savoured the taste of the kid's virgin sperm in his mouth, before swallowing it down. There had not been much, Charles' preferred the good mouthful he got from a man, but the thought that he had drunk the kid's first ever cum was an added thrill.

"Pretty good eh, did you enjoy that?" Charles said, though he knew the answer already.

"Err, that was amazing, I have never felt anything like it."

"Ha, you now see that there is more to your pole than just using it to piss through. You will also note that I have done as you asked, you thing is soft again."

Thomas looked down to see his prick had shrivelled up to its normal couple of inches of soft flesh. He smiled at the other boy, and thanked him. As he lay slowly recovering from his experience his eyes once again looked at the nude form of the pale skinned boy, and he noticed that Charles' own prick was still at full mast.

"Oh, what about you," he said, "Are you not going to get rid of it?"

"I could, but it is more fun when another boy does it," Charles added.

Thomas knew what the other boy meant, and he was a bit nervous about doing it. Yet he knew he owed this lovely lad a lot, and it would have been very unfair to refuse. Reaching over he lightly grasped Charles' prick and slowly began to pull it. Concerned not to hurt him, Thomas did it slowly, just moving the outer skin slightly back and forth.

"You can do it faster," Charles gasped, "And hold it tight, try pulling the skin till the head pops out. Don't worry, it will not break off." Thomas did as he asked, and soon Charles felt his pleasure building up. Of course he would have very much liked it if the other kid had gone down to blow him as well, but he realised that Thomas was quite a shy, timid boy, and it was little surprise that he would not take to sucking so quickly. So he shut his eyes and enjoyed the hand job. Despite the cabin boy's lack of experience, Charles had been so turned on by seducing him, it was not too long before he felt his climax building up. He groaned as he discharged his load over his belly, the first squirt shooting almost up to the level of his nipples.

"What was that?" Thomas asked, as he looked down at the sticky liquid Charles had ejaculated.

"That's cum, all boys shoot it out once they are old enough."

"Did I?"

"Yes, I swallowed it."

"Ugh, that sound's gross."

"Not at all, it tasted great. Cum has lots of good things in it, and makes you grow up strong," Charles added rather cheekily, quoting the common lie given by men when persuading a boy to drink their spunk. Using his finger Charles scrapped about half the liquid from his belly, then fed it to himself. He then gathered up the rest, and offered it to Thomas. Reluctant at first, the boy licked it off Charles' fingers, though there was too little of it to give him a proper appreciation of the taste of young male milk.

The two boys lay staring up at the ceiling for some minutes, each occupied by his own thoughts of what had happened. Suddenly Thomas remembered his duties.

"Opps, I better be getting on with my work," No sooner had he said this when Charles leapt up, straddled on top of the other boy, and grabbed his arms to pin them down.

"You will have to throw me off first," Charles laughed.

Thomas grinned up at him, and attempted to fight the boy off him, though he was not trying too hard as he was enjoying the game a lot more than shoe cleaning. The cabin boy still had his trousers at his knees, and with Charles sitting directly on his lap, the two boys' naked loins rubbed together as they fought. Naturally an event occurred that Charles knew all along would happen, something he had in fact planned, they both became rock hard again.

"Oh look, it's happened again," Charles exclaimed, as both boys looked down at their throbbing boyhood's.

"Is that bad?" Thomas asked rather nervously.

"Hmm, can be, it does not normally happen so quickly after shooting," Charles lied, knowing full well how soon a young teenager can be aroused again.

"What do we have to do?" Thomas asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Well, in this situation only buggery can save the day, you're the eldest so you can be top, I will be bottom," Thomas had absolutely no idea what Charles was talking about.

"What will happen if we do not?"

"Oh, bad things, it might even drop off," Charles said, trying to sound serious. "Come on, this can get a bit active so we better have your uniform off so it does not get spoilt." Charles was eager to get the boy naked, but Thomas was not too keen.

"What! but I can not, I have work to do, what if your father comes back?." The thought of being caught naked by a passenger was almost as awful to the shy boy as the prospect of his cock falling off.

"Oh Daddy will be gone for hours yet, and you can always tell your employers we had twenty pairs of dirty shoes and it took you all morning, come on, no time to lose."

Charles knew that he was being a bit rotten, taking advantage of the boy's naivety for his own purposes. Yet he was not going to do anything the kid wouldn't love, and from his own rather jovial mood, he was sure that Thomas realised he was not really in any danger.

Loosening the boy's tie, and then undoing his top shirt buttons, Charles pulled Thomas' entire upper layer of clothing up over his head in one tug, turning the whole lot inside out as he did it. He tossed the bundle onto the other bed, and then spun round to get his shoes, socks and trousers off. As he worked, crafty Charles kept gyrating his hips so that Thomas' prick was rubbing against the soft cheeks of his bum. This was to ensure the boy remained aroused, and not realise that his cock would go soft again quite happily if left on its own.

When he had succeeded in stripping the kid completely, Charles sat back to feast his eyes on the boy's sexy young body, then got on top of him, sliding his body up and down to enjoy the full body contact. Thomas was enjoying this too, and wondered if this was what buggery was. Charles twisted them both round so that he was on the bottom, then told his friend to kneel between his legs. No sooner had the cabin boy done this, when Charles pulled his legs right up to his chest, and grabbed the back of his knees to hold them in position.

"Right then stick it in," Charles said, desperate to feel a cock up his bum.

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked.

"Put your thing into my hole."

"What hole?"

"My bottom hole stupid, I ain't a girl, it's the only one I've got."

Thomas looked shell shocked when he finally realised what he had to do. The idea of sticking his penis into the place another boy shat out of was not one that immediately appealed to him.

"But, that's horrible and dirty," he said.

"No it isn't, I am very clean, and I assure you, you will love it, now put it in now, we have to be quick."

Thomas could see that Charles was correct about the first point, at least the part he could see. The boy's pink hairless asshole was completely clean. Realising that everything that he had done with Charles up to this point had been very enjoyable, he decided to trust his new friend that this next activity would be okay as well. Besides things had gone too far now, so he overcame his initial revulsion at what Charles had asked him to do, and got on with it.

Placing his cock head at the entrance, he pushed in, and was surprised to see how easily the boy's anus lips parted to admit him in. Of course Charles' often fucked hole was accustomed to receiving far bigger visitors than the cock of the cabin boy, so the four inch penis quickly slid into the hilt.

"Hmm that's nice, what do you think?" Charles asked.

"Err, it feels funny."

The experienced catamite squeezed his anal muscles to constrict the other boy's penis, then repeated the question.

"That felt great," Thomas admitted.

"Starting pushing in and out, it will feel even better," Charles said, and the cabin boy immediately took his advice. After just a few thrusts, the boy being buggered started cooing in delight, and reached down to wank his own erection. From his quickening breathing, and the wild look in his eyes, Charles could see that Thomas was enjoying this too.

"Faster," Charles gasped, and it was an order he kept repeating until the cabin boy was slamming into his ass at a frantic rate. Given the fact that both boys had climaxed just a short time before, it took them longer to build up to an orgasm this time. Sweat was pouring down them both by the time Charles shot a second load of sperm over his belly. Thomas took even longer, and screamed in ecstasy as he emptied his balls in to the other boy's ass, before collapsing in exhaustion on top of him.

They lay recovering for a few minutes in that position, with Thomas' head resting on Charles' shoulder. Charles twisted his own head round, so that he could look directly into his impaler's eyes, then he lightly kissed him on his lips. If another boy had done that just 30 minutes before, Thomas would have recoiled in disgust. Yet now it seemed so natural and touching, that he smiled, and kissed him back.

"I had better warn you Thomas," Charles said. "That me and my Dad are very keen about having immaculately clean shoes. Any chance of you coming back to do them each day?"

A few hours later Charles was finally dressed and went out to look for his dad. Thomas had actually done the job he had gone in to do before he had departed, though Charles had insisted he worked in the nude, so he could enjoy watching him. Charles found his father on the main deck, chatting to a foreign looking gentleman the boy assumed was the Turk he had left to play bridge with. Sam introduced his son, and the other man smiled down at Charles, patting him gently on the head. They heard the bell ring indicating lunch would soon be served, and Sam invited the Turk to join them. The man graciously declined, saying he had another appointment, so they departed company with him and went to the first class dinning hall. Here they met up with Henry, and the three of them sat down at their normal table.

Over dinner Sam told Charles and Henry everything he had learnt from the Turk during his bridge game, and from a long chat on the deck afterwards. The man turned out to a good talker, and was no great fan of his own country, so fortunately he did not feed Sam a load of propaganda about what a great place it was. As Sam found out, the Turk had emigrated to America some years before, and was returning to visit some relatives. He gave an extensive description of the political background of the place, which was basically one of steady decline of a once great empire. The sultan, the supreme ruler, was losing his grasp on power, and Turkey, along with the Ottoman Empire it ruled, was known as the sick man of Europe within political circles. Of the many countries she once had in her grasp, a lot of these had fallen under the effective rule of one of the great powers, particularly the British and the French. A further embarrassment was the fact that the empire was virtually bankrupt, leaving the management of its financial affairs effectively in the hands of foreign bankers. With such a background, it was hardly surprising that internally the country was quite unstable.

Sam also managed to find out something about a subject that was very relevant to his hunt, namely the status of slavery. He was surprised to hear that under pressure from the British Government, the Sultan had abolished slavery throughout the empire almost forty years earlier, in 1847. The measure had been very unpopular, and there were even riots in protest. To start with the new law was widely ignored, and slavery flourished as it had for centuries before. However eventually things were tightened up, and it became more difficult for slave traders and owners. The Turk had informed Sam that he has heard that slaves are still held in many parts of his country today, particularly in rural areas, but it is rather more discrete these days, as there were no more people sold openly at a public market. The real problem to stamping it out was the widespread powers of the local rulers, whom were frequently also slave owners. Corruption was rampant throughout local administrations, and the co-operation of the authorities could easily be bought.

All this was rather worrying to Sam, who had been hoping to enlist the help of the law enforcement officers in getting his sons back, should he find them. Yet it now seemed clear that he could come against some powerful forces that would make it much more difficult, probably dangerous. He realised he was going to have be very careful, and might have to resort to illegal means to get his boys back, in which case they were on their own.

Following dinner the two men and the boy left for a brisk walk up on the deck to help their food settle. They had only been walking a short while, when they were startled to hear three shots shatter the peace of the ship. Sam immediately pulled Charles close to him, and his hand slipped in to his jacket to touch his revolver. However, just seconds after the shots had been fired, a loud applause broke out, and it was clear the gunfire had not been in anger. Heading off in the direction of the noise, they spotted a large crowd gathered near the stern of the ship, on the second class deck. Making their way to see what the attraction was, Sam could see that an audience had formed a semi-circle enclosing the end of deck, and within this stood a tallish man, with a pistol in each hand. Two other men could be seen hastily placing tin cans on the deck rail, no doubt to be used as targets.

"I can't see," Charles complained, as he got on his tiptoes to try and look over the heads of the crowd. Unfortunately Charles was at that awkward age, where he was too old to be hoisted onto his Dad's shoulders, but he was still a good head short of full height, so he could not look over people's heads on his own. He tried pushing through, but having no luck, he dropped to his knees and started crawling through the legs of the onlookers in order to get to the front.

Sam was above average height, so could see quite easily, though old Henry had to stretch a bit to get a decent view. The shooter was a cleanly shaven man, and looked to be in his early to mid forties. He was dressed in a smart, but in Sam's opinion, rather tacky, brown suit, and wore a wide brimmed hat on his head. As the last of his targets was put into place, he stood facing away from them, then spun and opened fire. One after another, the tin cans were struck by the bullets and went flying into the sea below. As the last one vanished, the crowd once more broke into wild applause, and the marksman calmly blew the smoke from the barrels of his pistols, then bowed before his audience.

"He certainly fancies himself," Sam said rather disdainfully.

"Aye, that maybe true," Henry observed, but taking the more military perspective, he added, "But there's no denying that the man is one hell of a good shooter."

Of course Charles cared little about the modesty or otherwise of the performer, he was simply enjoying the show. Not surprisingly at the front of the crowd it was mostly kids, whom had pushed their way through, and sat down on the deck to get a good view. They watched mesmerised as the shooter reloaded his revolvers, and supervised his helpers in the placement of the hapless tin cans that would become his next victims. Not content with simply shooting a single can, he would have them arranged on top of each other where he would shoot off the top ones first. Or a helper would throw one up and he would blast it as it flew through the air. The man was clearly a showman, and joked with the audience as he carried out the various feats. There was a roar of laughter as he stood facing away from the targets, then bent over to shoot them from between his legs. However the climax of the event, and the feat for which he got the loudest applause, was when he arranged some cans in a pyramid, and managed to shoot out the middle one, whilst leaving the rest of the structure in place.

When he was finished, a portly gentleman near to the marksman shouted out.

"Folks, that was Frank Samson, all the way from the United States of America, let's here some appreciation for him putting on this fine show." More wild clapping broke out, but Sam just sighed.

"An American, I should have guessed." Following the entertainment, they relocated Charles and went off to have a drink in one of the small cafes on the boat. The boy chatted endless about the wonderful show he had seen, and using his fingers as guns, imitated the actions that had been done. The two men did not say much, they were simply pleased to see the child happy.

"I've got a great idea," Charles said to his dad. "Why don't you hire the gunman to help us get John, Billy and Jamie back. The way he shoots, he could knock out an army."

"Don't be silly Charles, I had not intended knocking out anybody's army."

"But he would be useful if we had to fight," Charles insisted.

"I think you are getting a bit carried away, don't you agree Henry?"

"Well the boy might have a point," Henry said, and Sam was astounded to hear Henry supporting one of Charles' wild schemes. "We might end up having to take the boys back by force, and I ain't as young as I was once, and you Sammy, you ain't had no military training at all."

"But he is just a showman, not a hired gunman, you are failing to see the difference. What good to us is a man that shoots tin cans!"

"We dunna know his background, Sam," Henry remarked. "Shooting like that, I find it hard to believe he ain't never been in the army."

The argument continued for some time, until in exasperation Sam put up his hands, and said, "Alright, alright, I'll think about it, now consider the matter closed."

As good as his word, Sam did think about it, and the more he did, the more the odd idea appealed to him. After what the Turk had told him, he was aware that things might get nasty, and he would have to take things in to his own hands. He had assumed that if it came to this, he could hire help locally. Yet that was fraught with dangers of its own, as he could end up being betrayed by those he was paying. At least the gunman had no local loyalties, and being an American they shared a common language, and he would be someone he could trust a lot more.

Over the next day or so, Sam made some discrete enquiries to see if he could find out anything more about this Frank Samson. He discovered that he was in fact simply a passenger on the ship, not a hired entertainer, and had done the show as an impromptu performance following a request from another passenger. This passenger was the fat man that had called for the applause, and locating him, Sam had a few drinks in the bar with him to see if he could learn something about the background of the gunman. The man was an old acquaintance of the American, and knew a fair bit about his history. Frank turned out to be quite a character, with a colourful past, and a reputation as a womaniser. As a young man, he had served with distinction in General Lee's army in the civil war, fighting for the confederates. After which he had had a variety of jobs, such as a guard, a cowboy, even a lawman, before he formed his own Wild-West group to make a living putting on shows. The fat man explained in detail some of the gunfights that Frank had been in, including some where he had fought off seemingly impossible odds. Even accounting for some clear exaggeration, it was obvious to Sam that the American had not spent his life shooting at tin cans. It was clear he had a wild side to him, but he had a number of qualities that made him a suitable helper, so Sam decided he would try to hire him.

On the morning of the fourth day following that which he had witnessed the shooting show, as the ship was steaming off the coast of Italy, Sam made his move. He found Frank in the bar chatting to a lady, but just as the American was about to make a move of his own, the said lady's husband arrived on the scene, and politely reclaimed her. Sam Grange introduced himself, and offered to buy Frank a drink, an offer he immediately accepted, and asked the barman for a large whiskey. Sam had been thinking for sometime how he would approach the task of attempting to recruit the gunman, but he decided that if he was to expect this man to be trustworthy, he might as well start with the whole truth. Thus Sam told Frank the entire sorry story, about his sons being kidnapped, the long wait he had for news, and the fact that he had to go to a country he knew little about to hopefully seize them back. It was a longish story, and the American, to his credit, was attentive, even though he was more accustomed to talking than listening. At the conclusion, Sam said he felt he needed some help, particularly if things got nasty, and an expert gunman fitted that requirement very well.

"So I would be very pleased if I could hire your services, hopefully it will only be for a few weeks, and I can offer you a very reasonable payment," Sam finished off with.

Frank took a deep breath when the Englishman had finished, and gulped down a healthy swig of his whiskey.

"That's some sorry tale friend, I don't have any children of my own, but I can understand how you must be feeling to have two of yours taken away."

"Will you help me then?"

"With respect, I feel you may have read too many stories about the Wild West in your newspapers, we American's are not a nation of gunmen for hire."

"I understand that, but you are hardly an average American," Sam said, hoping some flattery would aid things. "If you had been selling those tin cans, rather than shooting them, I would not be asking you."

The American laughed at his comment, and agreed he was no salesman. "I would really like to help you, but unfortunately I have another appointment, and can not."

"As I said," Sam insisted, "I am hoping I will not need your services for long, you could sent word that you will be delayed."

"It's not that simple, you see I am bound for a shooting competition, it is in India, and is held by one of the local Rajahs every four years. It is very prestigious, many of the world's top shooters attend. I came in third last time, I am hoping to win it this year. The event starts soon after I am scheduled to arrive, and I unfortunately have no time to make a diversion."

"If it is simply a matter of money, I can up my offer, I will match the prize money."

"It is not just the money, although I will not hide the fact that the prize money would be nice. However, for a man in the entertainment industry, such as I, the fame of a competition win can be more lucrative than the money won."

Sam could see that the American's mind was made up, and the Englishman was too proud to beg.

"I understand, very well, I wish you luck with your shooting event. Good day sir."

"And I wish you luck with the hunt for your boys," Frank added as Sam left.

It was just after lunch when Sam told his son the failure of his recruitment attempt, and Charles was bitterly disappointed.

"What! Who cares about a silly shooting competition, surely my brothers and Jamie are more important than that," Charles moaned.

"Too you, me and Henry that may be true, to him, this event was very important too. We have to respect his decision, I can not force him to help us." Charles' face took on a dejected pout, and he dashed out of the room. Henry was about to set off after the boy, but Sam called him back.

"Leave him, he'll he alright. Charles doesn't like it when he can't get his own way, but he will get over it. He has to learn things don't always work out like he plans."

In fact Charles had another reason for leaving the room other than just because he was angry. For the last four days he had been meeting up with young Thomas the cabin boy, who was allowed three hours off in the afternoons, before he was expected to help out in the kitchens for the evening meal. Unfortunately the young crewman had not been allowed to clean the same passenger's boots each day, so this time in the afternoon was the only time him and Charles could be together. Normally the two of them first did something to amuse themselves around the ship, before retiring to an unoccupied crew room for them to have some sexual fun. He located Thomas quickly this day, and poured out to the boy his disappointment that his dad could not hire the ace gunman. Thomas was sympathetic, but could obviously not help in the matter. He asked Charles whether he still wanted to go through with what they had planed for that day, though Charles quickly said of course he did.

This plan was to try and get one over two little brats that were passengers on the boat. The pair, a boy and a girl of some 7 or 8 years of age, had attempted to create havoc when ever possible, and had deliberately messed up a large display cabinet Thomas had spent all day setting up. They had also managed to destroy a slide, which was about the only amusement provided for the very young kids on the ship. Yet these two little devils changed into instant angels when in the sight of their nanny, so never got taken to account for their antics. Charles was always one to take it on his own shoulders to bring justice to the world, particularly if he could have some fun himself doing it. A gentleman passenger had already been a victim to this. The man in question had been incredibly grumpy, and seemed to spent most of the day shouting at anyone around, particularly the children, telling them to stop running, or to stop talking and so forth. Charles had asked Thomas to let him into the man's room, using the master key the servants had. The cabin boy, much against his better judgement, had agreed, and the pair had sprinkled itching powder into the gentleman's bed. Needless to say, the man did not shout at anyone the following day, being too busy endlessly scratching himself, much to the amusement of the two boys that were the culprits.

Thomas was not normally a mischievous sort, unlike young Charles. Yet he loved getting up to no good with his new friend, and was pleased when he heard that the brat revenge plan would still go ahead. The pair knew that the two young devils always took a midday nap just after lunch, after which their nanny took them up to the deck and purchased them an ice cream. This was the moment the pair would strike. Thomas intercepted the nanny and distracted her with a question about dinner arrangements, and in that instant, Charles grabbed the two ice creams, throwing one over the pretty dress of the girl, and the other over the smart navy suit worn by the boy. It took just a flash of time, before the mischievous teenager had vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The two young children immediately started screaming, but when the nanny turned round, she was left with no other conclusion other than that the pair had been fighting, and had thrown their ice creams at each other. Shocked at the horrendous state of their clothes, the woman ignored the pleas of innocence from the pair, as she took each one by the ear and led them off to their room. Charles and Thomas obviously shadowed the little group, and as they waited just outside the room, they jumped in delight when they heard the familiar sound of some implement striking a bare bottom, as one of the pair was receiving a long overdue hiding. The boys outside were annoyed they could not see what was going on, as they would have liked to know what instrument of correction the old nanny wielded. Yet from the loud squeals from first the girl and then afterwards the boy, they guessed it was probably a very hard hairbrush. Laughing and congratulating themselves, the two partners in crime ran off to have some fun of a different kind altogether.

Frank gazed out across the sea at the slowly falling sun, the light beginning to fade in the early evening of that fine day. He had located a small, deserted part of the ship, finally having a few moments to himself, without fear of being pestered by some other passenger on the ship. Not that he really minded all the adoring questions of his past antics, particularly if the asker was an attractive female. Yet it was nice to have a bit of peace once in a while. Yet of all the interruptions he had had, there was one that was still bothering him. It had been more than a day since the Englishman had try to hire him, and he could not get away from the idea that the man had thought he had refused simply because he was afraid. Now Frank was no coward, and had never been one to refuse a fight if there was no other way. Yet despite this, he still found the Englishman's story a bit hard to swallow. All this talk of boys being kidnapped, and dragged off to some far corner of the world, it sounded a bit far-fetched, more in place in some fictional novel. Frank had a suspicion that Sam was in fact a British secret agent, out on a mission to assassinate the Sultan of Turkey, and looking for a gullible foreigner to pull the trigger. Well fuck him, Frank Samson was not that stupid. No, he was going to that shooting competition no matter what.

A fresh wind blew across the deck, and Frank decided it was time to head in doors. He had hardly stepped through the door when he was mobbed by a small group of youngsters all holding various scraps of paper, no doubt waiting for the addition of the showman's signature. He guessed the little group had ganged together to get the courage to confront him. Frank sighed, so much for peace, but he knew he only had himself to blame for agreeing to do that show earlier in the trip. He cheered up a lot when he noticed that the first two in line was a pair of very pretty teenage sisters, both with long flowing blond hair, and sparkling green eyes. He reckoned the eldest girl looked around 18 or 19, and had the slim figure and fine developing breasts to make any red- blooded male's heart racing. The two gave him their names, and he wrote an appropriate ditty for them before appending his signature. Once complete, the two girls seemed delighted with their prize and ran off giggling, no doubt to show it off to their parents or friends. Frank had to stoop down to examine the next two, being just young kids, one girl and a little boy. Having got what they came for, they departed too. The last was another teenage girl, and was certainly the prettiest of the lot. She wore a tight bonnet on her head, outside of which flew her jet black hair framing her lovely pale face containing a voluptuous pair of full red lips. She had on a long green dress, that hugged her body very nicely, and when she smiled sweetly at the man, his heart melted. The girl looked younger than the first two he had given his autograph, and whilst she did not have much in the breast department, the rest of her body was perfect.

"Your name miss," the American stammered when he had stopped looking at her.

"All my friends call me Lotte," she replied.

Deciding to be a friend, Frank wrote, 'To the Charming Lotte from a humble gunman' then signed his name. Lotte looked most pleased with her autograph, and beamed at the man. However, unlike all the other kids, she did not run off once she had obtained her prize, but stood still as the two regarded each other for a while.

"Excuse me sir, but I was rather thirsty, and all the cafes have closed. I do not like to go into the bar on my own, would you be kind enough to escort me." Frank was hardly likely to refuse such an offer from such a pretty girl, so offering her his arm the pair wandered off towards the bar. They took a small table in a quiet corner of the room, and Frank ordered a large whiskey for himself, whilst his female companion requested a lemonade. They chatted as they drank, the young girl he was with being quite talkative, and was often bombarding him with questions about his life as a gunman. When he questioned her, he discovered that she was travelling with her aunt to Egypt where her parents were working. The aunt had complained of feeling a bit sick that evening, so had gone to bed early, leaving her young niece alone. The girl told Frank that she was sixteen, and although he thought she looked a bit younger than that, he saw no reason why she would lie.

"It must be so exciting being a show man," the girl said enthusiastically, "I've always wanted to join a circus, but my parents would never let me."

"Well life as an entertainer has its good sides, but some times it ain't so great. Some people treat you like real shit." The moment that final word had slipped out of his mouth, Frank knew he had made a mistake. This was a proper young English lady he was speaking to, not one of his drinking mates, or some Louisiana whore. He stamped his own foot as penance for his foul language, and immediately apologised to the girl. Lotte just brought a hand to her mouth and giggled.

They talked for at least an hour, during which time the man was downing a fair few whiskies, paying more attention to the beautiful creature in front of him, rather than how much he was drinking. He was thus feeling a little light headed, and quickly agreed when the girl suggested that they go for a walk on the deck.

A beautiful red sunset lit up the sky as the man and girl made their way onto the deck.

"This is lovely," Lotte said, then added "Oh look, it is the ship photographer, please Frank, can we have our photo taken together." The man had no objections, and they grabbed the photographer as he was packing his stuff away. He grumbled at the lack of light, but using the sunset as the background, he posed the pair, and took the photograph.

"It will be ready tomorrow," the photographer announced. "To which room will I sent it?"

"Room 51," Lotte said quickly.

"Shall I bill the same room?" Lotte said nothing, but gave Frank a sweet look.

"No, of course not," the American stammered, "Put it on my bill, room 17."

With the photo taken, Lotte was in even better spirits, and chatted on enthusiastically about how jealous all her friends would be when they saw the photo. The walked round the deck for a short while, then the girl said, in a lowered voice.

"Frank, there is one thing I have always wanted to do. I want to find out what it feels like to have real guns in my hands. Please Frank, can I touch yours." Frank would have preferred to put something other than his guns in her pretty hands, but he never the less agreed to her request, and offering her his arm once again, the pair set off to the American's cabin. Frank was a bit annoyed to see a young cabin boy polishing some brass candlesticks just outside his room. He did not particular wish to be seen escorting such a young girl into his room, but saw now that this could not be avoided. As he showed Lotte into his room, Frank returned to the boy outside, and slipping him a shilling, said.

"Make sure we are not disturbed."

The boy smiled, and said "Of course, Sir."

Frank had to laugh at his own stupidity after he had entered the room and shut the door. Why did he have to worry about being disturbed, clearly this girl was a complete innocent, nothing untoward was going to happen. Still, he can dream, so he wandered over to where he kept his revolvers. They were in a locked cabinet, so removing a key from his pocket, he unlocked it, and took out a wooden box that held his weapons. Lotte was standing in the centre of the room at the bottom of his bed. Frank thought she had a different look about her since she had entered his room, her eyes were wilder, more mysterious. He walked up to her, and was about to open the box, and remove the revolvers inside, when the girl's hand shot out and stopped him.

"You know, I didn't really come here to look at your guns."

"You didn't," Frank said with a gulp.

Lotte gently took the box from the startled man's hand, and lay it down on a small table nearby.

"Err, so what did you come for?" the man asked nervously.

"For you Frank, for you," and without warning the girl curled her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the lips. Lotte held the embrace for a long time, and when she finally broke off, Frank was looking rather stunned. This encounter had taken a rather unexpected turn, though he had greatly enjoyed the feel of the girl's soft lips on his own, and was not complaining about the way things were working out. Lotte gently pushed Frank, and the not particularly sober man, dropped down on to the bed. The girl started to pull off the gunman's boots, and Frank began undoing the buttons of his jacket and shirt. Once his feet were bare, Lotte undid the man's belt and peeled off his trousers. Frank had completed removing the top half of his clothes and was lying there clad in no more than his under trousers. The girl paused a moment to examine the shooter's body. For his mid-forties, Frank had kept himself quite fit. He still had a powerful body, and had avoided the over large belly that afflicted many men around his age. A layer of fine black hair covered his chest and shoulders. Lotte smiled at the man, a smile so sweet his heart started beating even faster. Her small hands reached over to take hold of the top of his last remaining garment, and with a single tug she pulled it down, and off his body. Frank's seven-inch cock flopped in to view, he was already hard from the excitement of what was happening. The man was rather pleased to see it in this state, he had had a horrible thought that he might have been unable to get it up given his partly inebriated state.

Lotte looked down at the shooter's prick, grinning at the owner. She reached over to lightly stroke it, and the feel of her soft hands made the tool even harder. Frank started to feel a bit embarrassed, given that he was now completely naked, and the girl was still fully dressed, and he decided to do something about this. Leaning up he undid a couple of buttons at the back of her dress, giving him a glimpse of the smooth skin of her lovely back. Yet Lotte quickly reached round and pushed the man's hands away.

"No, let me do it," she said, and pushed Frank down on to his back again, before lightly kissing him on the forehead. The American was a bit disappointed, there was little he wanted to do more than disrobe this ravishing creature, but he did not want to scare her off and blow what was set to be an unbelievable evening. Lotte got up and walked over to the room's single porthole, pulling the curtains closed. She then went to the small oil lamp next to the bed, which was providing the only source of illumination in the room, and blew it out.

Fuck it's dark in here, Frank thought, it was as if he had been suddenly struck blind. He was a bit pissed off that he would not be able to see the girl as she undressed, but guessed that she must be shy. This seemed a bit odd, given how readily she had started proceedings, but he had long given up trying to understand the mysterious youngster. He heard some gently rustling, and he could tell various garments were dropping to the floor. As his pupils dilated to the full in the dense darkness, Frank noticed a dim shaft of light coming from a gap between the curtains. His heart leaped as he could just make out a silhouette of the girl's body, and his excitement multiplied when he saw her dress slipping off her slim frame. From where she was standing, he could see a thin slither of her naked flesh, as the small shaft of light illuminated part of her back, and her lovely rounded buttocks. The erotic sight was causing his prick to stiffen even more, and it struck him that the young minx had not been wearing any undergarments at all.

His fleeting glimpse of her was extinguished as she approached the bed, her body blocking off that only source of light that had managed to penetrate the dark room. Frank shuddered as he felt her hands starting to lightly stroke his legs, but his excitement increased as she began to kiss the insides of his thighs. Although it is what he was hoping for, Frank was still surprised when he felt the girl's mouth slowly enclose his straining prickhead. He had assumed that such a young girl would know nothing about giving a man a blowjob, but then again most girls her age would not be in this situation in the first place. He was about to whisper her a few words of advice, but these died in his throat as his entire prick was swallowed into her mouth, and it was obvious she had done this before.

Since he could see nothing, Frank closed his eyes and concentrated on enjoying the incredible suck this young kid was treating him to. She missed no trick of the noble art of cock sucking, as her hot tongue slithered over every inch of his swollen member. He could not remember the last time he had been blown this well, and as Frank's passions increased, he could feel the cum boiling in his balls for release. He didn't want to come so quickly, and Frank started to wonder how the girl would react when given something other than lemonade to drink that evening. Yet as if she too had detected his state, Lotte suddenly disengaged her mouth, and expertly squeezed the head of the American's cock to stop the ejaculation.

The girl continued to kiss Frank's belly as his passions began to cool, then her young magical voice broke the silence.

"Do you want to fuck?" Frank, still recovering from what she had done earlier, simply managed a weak "Yes."

The bed creaked as the girl got on top of the man, sitting down on his loins. Frank groaned as she wriggled her hips so that his cock rubbed against the soft warm cheeks of her ass. From the dim silhouette he could see, the man noticed Lotte get up on her knees, then he felt her grab hold of his rock hard member. Slowly lowering her self down, Frank gasped as he felt his prick slipping up into the girl. As she once more settled down on his loins, the gunman realised he was engulfed in her to the hilt. The penetration had been easy, the youngster had clearly not been a virgin, not that he really expected her to be given the way the rest of the evening had gone.

Lotte remained in position for a sort while, before she began to slowly move her self up and down as she rode the happy American's prick. Frank enjoyed the feeling for a while, but quickly wanted more, he desperately wanted to touch this wonderful creature that was giving him so much pleasure. He slowly moved his hands, not wanting to alarm her, and began to caress the lower calves of her long slim legs. When she did not react, his hands started to move higher, running up her legs, brushing against her thighs, before they came to rest on her wonderful backside. He stroked her bottom cheeks as they fucked, he could not get over how wonderfully smooth they were, no sag or blemish broke the surface of the soft skin of the globes he was touching. How much nicer it felt then the rougher, fatter asses of the many older whores Franks had fucked over the years, he had never thought that a young girl would feel so good.

He stroked her bum for sometime, but soon his hand's slipped further up her body to touch her back. He then started to slip his hands round to get a feel of her young breasts. He knew they would not be very large, but was sure they would be as soft and smooth as the cheeks of her ass. Yet his hands never reached their destination, as Lotte suddenly seized hold of his wrists, and pinning them back to the bed, she bent over to crush her lips against those of the man. Although a little startled by her sudden movement, Frank did not struggle against her, as he had decided to let the youngster set the pace. As the girl's tongue snaked inside the mouth of the American, she greatly increased the speed of the fucking, and the sound of her beautiful cheeks hitting the loins of the gunman started to fill the room.

Frank was in ecstasy, but it was to get even better when the girl began to manipulate her vaginal muscles, literally massaging the man's prick as she rode it. Frank could not believe how wonderful it felt, this was without doubt the fuck of his life. It was becoming obvious to him now that this girl was not simply blessed with a natural ability to drive men wild. She was just too good, she had to have had a lot of sexual experience, so Frank was sure she had to be a professional prostitute. He was certain she would present him with a bill when this was over, but the man no longer cared, she would be worth every cent.

Yet as the joy in his body overcame the remainder of his senses, even these thoughts were driven from his mind as he concentrated solely on the incredible waves of pleasure he was feeling. He tried to hold back as long as he could, wanting this to last forever, but his balls had had enough of the torment, and Frank screamed as his cock started to spurt it's cream into the girl.

As he slowly recovered his senses, the American was aware that Lotte was still pumping up and down on his prick at an even quicker rate than before. She too was gasping now, and Frank guessed she was nearing orgasm. Suddenly she stopped, sighed, and it was clear she had achieved her goal. Frank could feel the girl jerking on top of him, but he was startled to feel drops of liquid splashing down on his belly. The man thought it was a bit gross that the kid had obviously started drooling over him, but as he scooped some of the mysterious substance onto his finger and stiffed it, he was soon fully aware that it had not come from her mouth.

"What the fucking hell!?" Frank exclaimed, and leaning over to the side of the bed, his fumbling hands located the lamp beside it. Hitting the igniter, he lit the oil lamp, which slowly sprang to life filling the room with light. Frank blinked at the sudden glare, but as his pupils rapidly contracted, he looked round and his eyes very nearly jumped out of their sockets at the sight. There, sat at the other end of the bed, was not a young girl, but a naked young boy, his thin cock still standing against his belly. Charles, looking mightily pleased with himself, was grinning wildly at the wretched man whom he had been riding, as if nothing was in the slightest bit wrong.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're a boy!" Frank exclaimed, when he had finally gained the composure to speak.

"Of course I am," the boy replied indignantly, "Why, didn't you know?"

"No I did not, fucking hell, I must have been more pissed than I thought." Frank's previous attempts at polite language had been discarded now he knew he was in the company of another male. "I can't believe I have just been ass fucking a boy and didn't notice," the man moaned.

"What's the problem, I mean didn't you enjoy it?" Charles asked, knowing full well what the answer was. It had been the fuck of his life, but Frank was not about to admit it.

"Err, well, that's not the point," the man stammered. "I only have sex with females, not boys."

"Oh," Charles replied, rather cheekily. "Do you think this will affect your reputation as a womaniser, when everyone finds out what you have done with a boy."

Frank nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard this, particularly as the kid had said, when, not if.

"Look kid, no one is going to find out, okay. This is going to stay just between the two of us."

"Owww, and I was so looking forward to telling my friends that I had been buggered by the famous gunman. Besides, I have to warn you, I have a nasty habit of talking in my sleep."

"Not if I throw you in the sea first," Frank growled.

"I am sure you wouldn't do that, and besides, remember the cabin boy saw us come in together, he will know you did it, and there is no where to hide on a boat." The cabin boy was of course Thomas, and had been party to this little trick Charles had played on the American, supplying the boy with the female clothing he had worn.

Frank knew the youngster was correct, he would not get away with murder. Anyway, even more importantly, although Frank had killed a fair few men over the years, as a soldier and a lawman, he had never hurt a child, and he was not about to start now.

"Well then I will simply deny I ever met you, let alone fucked you. Who is going to believe the word of a mere child and a lowly cabin boy against a man as distinguished as I."

"Hmmm, aren't we forgetting the photo. It will be easy for anyone to see it is me that you have your arm round, and you will have some awkward questions to answer."

Frank quietly groaned when he was reminded about the photo, it was clear this kid had covered every avenue of his possible escape. Oh fuck, the man thought, this was going to be bad, clearly the boy wanted something, and given how he had conducted this whole episode so far, it was obvious he was not going to be bought off with an ice cream and a lollipop. No, this will be expensive, this was going to cost him big bucks.

"Alright kid, looks like you have caught me, how much do you want? But I'm warning you, I ain't a rich man."

Charles looked at him bemused for a moment, then replied. "I don't want any money from you."

"Uhh, then what do you want?"

"I want you to help me and my Dad get my brothers and friend back."

The minute this had left the boy's lips, Frank knew exactly what he was referring to. In fact, now he thought about it, he even remembered seeing the kid together with the Englishman.

"Fucking hell, did you're Dad put you up to this? Sweet Jesus, I had never guessed the limey was desperate enough to prostitute his own son!"

"Actually Daddy doesn't know anything about this, it was all my idea."

Frank looked at the boy for a while, and given what he had learned about him so far, this did not seem too difficult to believe.

"Look, Lotte, I mean, what the hell is your real name kiddo?"

"It's Charles sir, Lotte is short for Charlotte, the girl's form of my name, I thought it was a clever touch."

This kid had turned out to be all together too much of a smart arse in Frank's thinking, but he kept this to himself.

"Look, Charles, I have a lot of sympathy for you and your Dad, I really wish you the best luck in the world trying to find your brothers. Yet I can not go with you. I have to attend this shooting contest, things like this are important to men, you will understand when you're older." Frank added the last bit, as that classic phrase any adult adopts when fighting a losing argument with a child.

"I don't care about any silly shooting contest," Charles whined. "I only care about seeing John, Billy and Jamie again." Then, adopting a firmer tone, Charles added. "Take it or leave it, you either help us, or I will make sure everyone between here and Texas finds out what we did tonight."

Frank stared at the determined eyes of the boy, and he could see the kid meant it. He was silent for a moment, then closed his eyes and moaned. It was clear the youngster had him by the balls, and he really had no option but to agree. He cursed as he felt that magnificent trophy which was his to be won, slowly slipping from his grasp, then he thought, oh well fuck it. Maybe this adventure might be fun, at least he would not have to put up with the dreary social evenings with the other shooters at the contest. Consisting for the most part of pompous German and English Aristocracy, vain French and Italians, and a few upstart local Indian royalties, it was a crowd he could not relate to.

"Very well I agree, I will help you."

The words had hardly left his lips, when Charles shouted yippee, and started jumping around the bed. Despite how this child had tricked him, Frank had to smile, as the kid transformed from a hard-nosed blackmailer, into a little boy who had just been told he could have a new puppy. Charles leapt over to the men, jumped on top of him, and started kissing the thick fur on his chest.

"Thank you, thank you," the boy kept repeating.

Frank, a little startled by the child's exuberance, was none the less touched by it. He could see how important it was to the boy to find his brothers and friend, and it was now obvious that his father was not an English secret agent out to entrap an unwary foreigner. Without thinking what he was doing, he placed his hands on to the cheeks of the boy's bare bottom, and gently rubbing them, discovered that those splendid globes had lost none of their softness and smoothness from the time he had thought the owner was a girl. Even more surprising, as the naked boy squirmed about on top of him, he could feel his penis once more starting to harden.

"There is one condition though," Frank said.

Charles raised his head, a look of concern across his pretty face. "What's that?"

"Let's do it again, only this time, leave the light on."

The huge smile that appeared on the youngster's face was the only answer the American needed.

NEXT PART