An Arabian Night

He shuffled into the room, eyes downcast. He was stripped to his waist and barefoot. The cool night air caressed his naked chest causing his nipples to stiffen. His state of undress made him nervous and only added to his confusion. Yesterday, he had been just an American on holiday in the Middle East. Then, for merely dared to look upon the sultan’s wife, he found himself a guest in the sultan’s dungeon. He found it almost laughable and absurd that dungeons existed in this day and age. He was given no contact with the American embassy. No representation whatsoever. He fell asleep, cold and hungry, fearing that the next day would be his last. He awoke in a lavishly furnished room with several other men. None of them would speak to him, if indeed spoke any English at all, and his Arabic was comical. They all just smiled at him and went back to their conversations. It was a little after nightfall when they came for him. Now, a hulking guardsman paced, bull-like in front of him, a wickedly glint to the pistol holstered on his belt. The American was starting to fear that his roving eyes would be his death sentence. The mammoth guardsman stopped and stood directly in front of him. He could almost feel the hatred in the guardsmen’s scowl. “Stand straight! Head up!”

He got his first real look at the room. The walls were adorned with tapestries and the floor was covered with giant cushions and pillows in shades of satiny red. Several candles cast the room in a mercurial flame hue and the air was laced with a sweet and pungent smoke wafting from several incense burners. A large table stood in the middle of the room set with fresh fruit and wine.

“Wait here!” With that final command the guardsman stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him. He immediately turned his attention to the table. Even through the heavy aroma from the incense, he could smell the fruit. The smell made his stomach growl loudly.

Looking around the room, he cautiously stepped to the table and grabbed a handful of grapes. He popped one into his mouth. The pale green orb burst spilling its sweet juices over his tongue. Immediately, he was ravenous and all rational though abandoned him. His hands picked through the fruit tasting it all. He poured a glass of wine and drained it in one gulp.

“Isn’t it considered polite to wait for a lady before you eat?”

He whirled around to see the sultan’s wife standing in the doorway. In his famished state, he had not heard the door open. The seething guardsmen stood behind her, hand on the handle of his pistol.

“You dare eat before the Mistress! Yankee dog! You will die for your indiscretions!” The guardsman strode forward, a murderous look in his eye, but the Mistress’ graceful hand caught his shoulder.

“Abdullah,” she said soothingly, “It is alright. You may leave now.” Despite his obvious disgust, Abdullah slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sultan’s wife watched the guardsman go and turned to face him. She was even more beautiful up close. He had only caught a glimpse before. Like him, she was American. She had fiery red hair, alabaster skin and luminescent green eyes. He had heard many stories of American women lured into the Middle East to populate the sultan’s harem.

Her sparkling eyes looked him up and down hungrily. He was taken aback by the pure lust in them, yet despite his apprehension, he could feel the stirrings of passion deep inside him. Her near transparent, red robes flowed in waves around her body. He could see the swell of her breasts swaying as she paced around him. Her smell was near overpowering. The aroma of the incense had all but disappeared. She smelled sweet, like the fruit he had just consumed. Now he was thinking of quite a different kind of consumption.

She stopped in front of him, standing close. She was shorter than he was and he could feel her hot breath on his chest. She looked up at him with her green eyes locked on his, a look of wanton desire on her face. He felt her graceful fingers trace up his side and over his chest, lightly grazing his nipple. She ran a finger along his jaw line to the corner of his mouth and then brought the finger to her own lips. Its tip glistened with the juice of hastily devoured fruits. She slipped the digit over her ripe lips and tasted the sweetness.

“Do you know why you are here?” He eyed the sultan’s wife suspiciously. He wondered if this was the part where he died.

“I assume it has something to do with my daring to look at you.”

“It was not just any look you gave me. You looked at me with hunger in your eyes…With lust.”

“And your husband took offense,” he finished. “I can see why. You are…breathtaking. But I have heard about the way he treats women. A beautiful woman is not a possession. She should be savored…worshipped.” She smiled briefly at him and then turned and walked to the table. Her fingers ran playfully over an apple, red as her full lips.

“Let me tell you something about the sultan. He adores me. It’s true, for…political reasons he must promote certain ideals publicly, no matter how barbaric they may seem, but in private, he treats me very well. He gives me anything I want. He gave me you.”

He stood in silent amazement. Slowly realization dawned on him. He would not die this night.

“I am here for…your pleasure then?”

“Yes,” she answered brazenly. “Your sole purpose is to fuel my desires. To feed my lust. The sultan loves me, but he alone cannot satisfy me. Can you?” As she spoke, the sultan’s wife poured herself a glass of wine. She lifted the glass to her ruby lips and sipped of the sweet nectar, all the while her eyes locked with his. He was suddenly aware of his near nakedness. Goosebumps covered his skin and his nipples were stiff in the evening air. He could feel the stirrings of passion in his groin and he was sure that she could see the affect she was having on him.

She circled him again. Her fingertips trailed across his back, her fiery touch sending shivers of desire through his body. He could feel his manhood growing. Her fingers teased across his shoulder and over his chest, winding through his dark chest hair, down across his stomach and then brushing lightly over his growing erection. It throbbed at her touch, and suddenly, he was painfully aroused. She smiled wickedly at him as her fingers hooked over the waistband of his pants. She pulled him to her. He could feel her insistent nipples graze lightly across his chest. He was so close to her he could feel her hot breath on his neck. Her hands were gently running over his body. Over his hips and up his side, over his chest, and along his broad shoulders. His lips just barely grazed her forehead. Her fiery hair smelled sweet. It intoxicated him.

His hands found hers. Their fingers locked for a moment. He let go and ran his fingers lightly up the backs of her arms and then over her shoulders, tracing her collar bone and then gently he lifted her face. His lips skimmed over her cheek leaving a warm moist trail behind them. Their noses brushed against each other. He could feel her eyelashes on his temple.

He softly kissed her shoulder, then her neck and her chin. Then he tasted her crimson lips. They were tangy with a hint of the wine still on them. He cradled her head and pressed her lips to his, kissing her intensely. Their bodies melted together and she could feel his manhood rubbing against her sex.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and pushed him backwards. She regarded him coolly, walked to a large pile of cushions and sat down.

“Strip.” He looked playfully at her and began to walk towards her.

“Strip!” she commanded. “You will do as I say.” He stopped in his tracks at the biting reminder of his station. Pensively, he looked up. Her luscious lips were curled into a sensual smile. Her eyes penetrated him. “Please,” she said. “It would bring me pleasure.” He hesitated for a moment then slowly unzipped his jeans. He pushed them down over his hips and stepped out of them. He wore black boxer briefs and his arousal was evident.

“Keep going,” she urged. “Don’t stop now.”

He pulled off his briefs and stood before her, blushing deeply. His arousal fully exposed, he could feel her eyes devouring his naked form. She bit her full lip and began absent-mindedly running a slender finger over it. Her face wore a mask of ravenous desire. She parted her sheer robes with one hand and began to lightly caress her swollen nipple. He hungrily drank in the sight of her bare bosom. His member, swollen and deep purple, twitched with anticipation. He could not recall ever being as aroused as he was now. The look in her eyes, and the sound of her breaths quick and labored, sent waves of wanton desire through his body.

“Touch yourself,” she breathed. Now past embarrassment, his hand moved over his pelvis, through his dark thatch of pubic hair and slid around the base of his manhood. He could feel how hard it was, like steel beneath soft velvet. He could feel the texture of his skin, the bulging veins and a sense of erotic power that surged in him when he touched himself. He began at the head and slowly stroked the length of his shaft, his hand cupping his balls before moving back up.

He watched the sultan’s wife as she slowly stroked her pink nipples. Her other hand slid down her stomach and inside her red silken panties. She let out a tiny moan. Again and again his deft fingers worked his hardness as he watched her watching him. He was close to exploding when she crooked her finger and beckoned him to her. He nearly tripped over himself in his excitement. He sat down and reached for her, but she held up a graceful hand and stopped him.

“Pleasure me,” she insisted. “Only then will you be pleasured...If you are adequate that is.”

He slowly pushed her robes over her shoulders. Her bare skin, fair and supple, beckoned to him. His gentle hand cupped her breast, the thumb slowly teasing at her swollen nipple. He bent down and took her other nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. She breathed heavily into his ear, her hand cradling his head, pulling it even closer to her breast.

He pulled his head away, a silky trail of saliva stretching between his tongue and her nipple. He left a trail of moist kisses down her stomach, his thumbs now hooked in the elastic of her panties. He nuzzled against her silken covered mound. The smell of her sex was near overpowering. She could feel the slightly rough texture of his hands as he slowly slid her panties over her thighs. He smiled wide when she was revealed before him. She was shaven and he could see that her nectar had already began to flow.

He bent close to her womanhood, breathing hot, moist breaths on it, lightly kissing her inner thighs, grazing her swollen clitoris, with the tip of his nose. The sultan’s wife whimpered slightly when she felt his tongue slide along the length of her sex. Her taste was divine. She could feel his stubble, rough on the inside of her thighs. She moaned, one hand rubbing her breast, the other pulling his head into her grinding hips. He could feel her muscles tighten and her breaths coming quicker. Her body convulsed, and crying out, she came, her body twitching in wave after wave of pleasure.

The sultan’s wife, still trying to catch her breath, grasped him and pulled him towards her. She kissed him hard tasting herself on his lips. Her searching hands made their way down his stomach and found his member still rigid with passion. Her touch on his sex sent electric shivers through him. Her hands were gentle, but hungry. She gently pushed him onto his back and knelt beside him. Her hands ran over his thighs as she gently kissed his abdomen, her soft hair falling over his stiff manhood. He watched as she took it in hand and ever so lightly kissed the swollen head. Her eyes locked with his as she began to slowly lick up and down the shaft. She savored his taste…his smell. He gave a throaty moan when she swallowed the head, her tongue running along the underside. She caressed his balls and stroked his thighs while she continued to take him deeper into her eager mouth. When she could feel his thighs tighten she pulled away from him.

He ached with an overwhelming sense of loss as his manhood slid from her warm mouth, but she straddled him then, and guided him, slick with her saliva and his precum to the entrance of her sex. He felt her silky, slickness as she rubbed his member along the length of her, then slid down over him, engulfing him inside her. She whimpered loudly and bit her lip as he entered her, then, with her hands on his chest she began to rock back and forth on top of him. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her tightly to him as he drove inside her. She tossed her head back, her fiery hair cascading in a graceful arc over her head as the made love. She moaned loudly, and as if in reply, he pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely on her lips, and then her neck, and finally her breasts, ranging his tongue over her wanting nipples.

“Take me from behind,” she pleaded between gasping breaths. The disentangled their bodies and she knelt in front of him. He grasped his slick member and pushed it slowly into her. She moaned as he filled her, and pushed her hips backward, grinding into his. He grasped her hips again and began to push inside her in a carnal rhythm. Her body was slick with sweat now as they pulsed like a giant heart, pumping lifeblood to one another. He kissed her shoulders tasting the tang of her sweat. She turned her head and he brushed the soaked, matted red hair from her face and kissed her muffling her loud moans. His hands on her shoulders now, he drove into her feeling her body convulse with each thrust.

He moaned loudly knowing that he was close to the edge. The sounds of her whimpering beneath him sent him over. With a final thrust and an animal-like growl, his hot seed spilled inside her. Feeling his passion fill her, she cried out and came again, her body trembling beneath him. They collapsed, sweaty and spent onto the cushions. His arms encircled her and they lay there, a tangle of heaving breaths and pulsing, sweat soaked flesh. He fell asleep holding the sultan’s wife, listening to her breathe and stroking her flame-hued hair.

When he awoke, she was gone. He pulled on his jeans just as Abdullah entered the room with the rest of his clothes. The guard thrust the garments at him.

“Get dressed!”

He dressed quickly in silence, wondering if he’d ever see her again. When he finished he was led to the palace gates where he was ushered out into the harsh daylight. Abdullah tossed his bag on the ground at his feet, slamming the gate in quick succession. The American quickly snatched up the bag and rifled through it. All his possessions seemed to be there. He strapped on his wristwatch and noticed the time. His flight was leaving in less than an hour. He checked the side pocket of his bag and, relieved, he found his plane ticket.

The square was littered with people, but he managed to find a taxi quick enough. As the taxi sputtered off to the airport, he gazed at the palace through the grimy window. Her taste and smell were still embedded in his mind.

He spent the ride in silence, paid the driver, then shuffled apathetically through the airport. He sat and waited in silence for his flight to be announced, his mind filled with her fiery beauty. When they called his number, he wordlessly handed his ticket to the flight attendant.

“First class sir,” she beamed. The words took a moment to register.

“Huh? First class, but I didn’t pay for…” He smiled widely as the realization overtook him. The sultan did have deep pockets after all.

He made his way onto the plane and collapsed in the seat. He ordered a drink and sipped it calmly, gazing longingly out the window. He barely took any notice when someone sat beside him. Then he recalled the sent, and saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye, and by the time he understood she was already kissing him. When they disengaged, he could only stare at her in disbelief. She just smiled wickedly at him.

“I got a divorce.”