Date: Sat, 1 Oct 2016 15:13:32 +0000 (UTC) From: simon peter Subject: The Prince and his Harem Part 22 Dear Reader The names and places in this story are all fictitious. If you feel like sending me a comment, negative or positive, please do so: simon23232@yahoo.com I would love to read your comments and suggestions. Also, very importantly, please donate to keep nifty going. Thanks. Simon The Prince and his Harem Part 22 By Simon Peter Naked, erected, and more than ready to party, Hamed, Imre, Igor and Ivan lay on the silk cushions, waiting for Rasheed to arrive with Frankie from the airport. "Oh, fuck, you're all fucking naked and hard," Frankie exclaimed as he entered the prince's hall and saw his friends. "I so fucking missed you." Rasheed grabbed him from behind, pressing on him. "Let's get naked and join the boys," he said as he nibbled on the American's ear. Frankie moaned with a shaking desire and ground his butt back at Rasheed's erection. "Let's. Oh, fucking let's." Frankie and Rasheed undressed in seconds and dropped down in the middle of the naked boys. Suddenly, Sheikh Ramzi whooshed into the hall like a storm. "I'm here, my boys," he said huskily, pulling his robe off over his head and rushing towards the boys. "My Nigerian, Where are you? Give me my prize!" "Here, Minister," Imre fisted his huge black cock, shining and throbbing. "Come eat your prize. It's hard and ready for you." Ramzi fell on the Nigerian with hunger, gobbling on the huge rod, gagging and swallowing and gagging some more but never leaving the monster cock being offered to him. It was amazing how the older man got addicted to Imre's cock. Nothing satisfied him more. It was a huge sacrifice for him to accede to his harem's condition that he should abstain from Imre. But now he had earned the prize of aiding the boys in their scheme: Imre's cock. The other boys watched, stroking their dicks. "Go ahead, Hamed," Rasheed goaded the young prince towards the kneeling minister, bent over Imre's crotch. "He has earned it. Give his ass a princely fucking." With Ramzi's ass up and exposed as he knelt and guzzled Imre's cock, Hamed mounted the minister and penetrated into him. Ramzi moaned and grunted, feeling his cavities filled with young and hard boy tools. He had deserved this. Without him, Hamed and his team would never have been able to pull their operation off successfully. He knew that tonight he was going to be fucked blind and fed like at no time before with all the boy semen around him, inside him. The boys took turns at the minister's mouth and ass. There were always two hard cocks servicing him. And he wasn't complaining. The finale was a huge pounding by Imre's 28-centimeter fucker that almost made Ramzi lose consciousness. After the minister left, the boys celebrated Frankie's "home" coming. "It does feel like home," Frankie said as he hugged Rasheed. "Rashi, you have no idea how much I missed you." Rasheed just held onto Frankie, kissing him and holding him tight. "You gotta let go of Frankie a bit, Rashi," Imre said. "I bet he's hungry from some black man penis." Rasheed glared at Imre. He loved the Nigerian, but sometimes Imre was a bit too vulgar for his liking. "Imre," Rasheed said. "When will you learn to be civilized?" "When you suck my black dick, Turk," Imre teased. "And I love to fuck your lover's ass. And your ass, too." "You're welcome to my ass anytime, Imre," Frankie said as he stroked Rasheed's hair, "but my heart belongs to Rashi." "So let's fuck your ass, then," Imre moved closer to the American. "Who cares about your fucking heart?" Held by Rasheed, Frankie turned sideways, offering his butt to Imre, who immediately spooned him and started rubbing his hole with his cock head. Imre moaned at the feeling of Frankie's tight hole twitching against this cock head. "Oh, American, your white hole is so sweet, so good for fucking." Rasheed kissed Frankie's lips as Imre prodded his hole, trying to penetrate. Igor and Ivan moved over to join the trio. Igor stood next to where Rasheed knelt holding Frankie. Frankie reached for Igor's cock and took him in his mouth as his rim muscle stretched wider for Imre's monster cock. Ivan lay on the floor and took Rasheed's cock, the largest cock in the group after Imre's, and stroked it, licking around the head. As soon as Imre seeded Frankie, Frankie turned him around and fucked his black butt, deep and hard. Hamed watched, filled with love for "his boys." And the boys filled each other with their loving juices. "What's the next step?" Frankie asked Hamed when the boys brought him up to date with the events and Sheikh Fahed's business demise. "I don't really know," Hamed scratched his head. "I have been consumed with the objective of abolishing slaves and I guess we will have to keep on digging to find out if there are any other slavers in the country." "We're so proud...," Imre started to say as he was interrupted by one of the servants who rushed into the hall. "Your highness," the servant panted. "Turn on the television. Something bad has happened." Hamed noticed that there were tears streaking the servant's face. He grabbed the remote control and turned on the large television screen mounted on one of the walls. The image of a crash scene suddenly appeared. Lights, sirens, broken trees and branches, debris. The news band at the bottom of the screen was running: "... survivors reported. 5 killed in plane crash. Stay tuned. Keeping you posted." "What the fuck?" Hamed shouted. "Where? Who?" He started to flip through the channels. "Breaking News," an announcer said: "The private plane of Sheikh Nahed bin Muftah from the princedom of Al Jawhara along with 2 assistants, a flight attendant and the pilot crashed in the hills near Istanbul killing all on board. The plane had met with a severe storm and was trying to crash land at Istanbul's Atatruk International Airport, without success." Hamed's ears rang, his heart stopped, his legs failed him and he crumbled onto the Persian rug under him. The boys rushed to their prince as their first reaction; the news hadn't sunk in yet. "Bring some water," Rasheed shouted. "Give him some air," Imre knelt next to Hamed. "He needs air." Ivan and Igor froze a few feet away. Frankie knelt beside Rasheed, checking Hamed's pulse. Hamed came to as Rasheed splashed some cold water onto his face. With Frankie's help, they raised him and sat him against the cushions. "My uncle," Hamed murmured. "Killed. Dead. Just like my parents. My uncle. My mom and dad!" He kept repeating over and over, in dazed, unseeing eyes, shaking body, hoarse voice. His friends were all crying, except for the prince. No tears came down his maturing face, now covered with a very light and downy beard. "I'm so sorry, baby," Imre held Hamed in his arms. "I'm so sorry." There was nothing that the boys could say or do to console the prince. But he didn't shed a tear. They knew, however, that the flood of tears would come later, as soon as the initial shock wore off. That night, the five boys decided that they wouldn't leave Hamed in spite of Imre's begging them to leave him alone with the prince. "Just let be with him," Imre said, fighting back tears. "I will just hold him and keep him warm." "No," Rasheed said emphatically. "We will all stay here, together. The cushions will be our mattress and we will all hold onto our prince. We shared in his joy and we will share in his pain." The TT grieved together. Things were changing in Al Jawhara, thanks to the prince and the Tech Team. Frankie was always in touch with the boys, giving them assistance as they unfolded piece after piece of evidence against corruption and smuggling, as well as skyping their sex action to Frankie over the Internet as he masturbated in his room in New York. Once in a while, Frankie would fly in as special consultant to the ministry, and the boys enjoyed his presence whether in the office, working on the computers, or in the oasis, working on cocks and asses. Frankie was able to get approval from his university to spend the spring semester as an internship in Al Jawhara, earning his credits. The boys were elated at this, especially Rasheed. Hamed was now elevated to the minister's right hand. Sheikh Ramzi depended totally on the prince and the TT. "I can see you become the next minister," Ramzi had told Hamed once. Inevitably, the young prince was no teenager anymore. At eighteen, he had grown taller, more regal, more masculine and muscle-defined. He towered over others, and his black beard gained him a couple of years. After the death of his uncle, Hamed became the most important personality, not only among his peers but also within the whole tribe. His role as leader was established. The boys, Ivan, Igor, Rasheed and Imre, remained as tight as ever as a group. They were proud of the TT and its achievements. During this time, Hamed was able to convince the minister to pass laws that would put an end to the smuggling business. "Minister," Hamed had once told Sheikh Ramzi, "the only way to stop all the smuggling without shedding blood and throwing people in prison is to legalize whatever is being smuggled. Of course, there needs to be rules and regulations." "But this will cause chaos in the country, not to mention how it goes against our culture and religion," Ramzi had answered the young prince. "With tight rules enforced regarding the sale and use of alcohol and soft drugs, we can always be in control. Our culture has never allowed for slavery, neither has our religion. We can impose an age restriction, just like we have done for cigarettes and tobacco. Also, alcohol can be bought and consumed in licensed places only and never for minors." The minister considered all of this, noting that Hamed himself was a minor that was proving himself to be more than many men he knew. He also considered Imre, whose cock he had never experienced the like before, but also a minor. "Let me think more about it," the minister said. "I hear that other places have been able to do so. Our neighbors in Dubai allow alcohol in hotels and some restaurants, so do the Jordanians and the Lebanese. In Europe, in Holland, not only alcohol but marijuana and other soft drugs are legal. We have legalized prostitution already. I think you have a very valid argument, prince. I suggest that you make a trip to Amsterdam. Take your team with you. See if you can learn how they do it." "Boys," Hamed said after returning from the minister's office, "we're going to Amsterdam." Even when the plane landed at Schipol Airport, still the young men did not believed it. They walked around the city of Amsterdam wondering about the freedom and liberty all around them. In the Red Light District, they saw prostitutes sitting in windows in their undergarments, where men would look and choose. The bars in Haarlem Street reeked with the smell of marijuana, and young people were drinking beer and other stuff in the streets. "No way can we have this in Al Jawhara," Hamed exclaimed, looking around him, wide-eyed. "It doesn't have to be this obvious," Rasheed commented, "but, Hamed, look at the people's faces. They look so relaxed, so happy." "So high," Imre joked. "They're all spaced out." The boys went into sex shops and Imre tried one of the cubicles with glory holes. The boys had to wait outside for Imre for an interminable time as man after another left the shop with smiles on their faces and glistening lips, apparently having sampled Imre's huge cock though the glory hole. There were gay bars. Men danced together publicly. Rasheed refused to dance with Imre in one of the bars even though Imre said that Rasheed's butt looked cute when it wiggled. Igor and Ivan reveled in their ability to hold hands and kiss in public. Even in the streets, a few gay men kissed and held each other's hands. Amsterdam was one large festival place and the boys had the time of their lives. Alongside all of this, people walked around with shopping bags, went into restaurants, bought cheeses and meat cuts and vegetables. The whole atmosphere looked healthy and normal in spite of the alcohol and the drugs and the sex. "Did you know," Ivan told his friends as they strolled among the multitudes of people, "that Holland rents out its prison space to neighboring countries? They don't have enough criminals to fill the prisons. It says in the brochure in the hotel that one prison was turned into a school because of the lack of people to put in there." The boys shook their heads in wonder. Why didn't every government do this? Why all the smuggling and criminality? They returned to the princedom full of ideas and hopes for a better society. Although Hamed's boys had been brought into Al Jawhara as slaves, they felt that they belonged here since Hamed set them free and gave them the opportunity of becoming decent human beings. Hamed had given them a reason to live and love. Frankie told them when they related their experience in Amsterdam to him: "You should come and visit Las Vegas, guys. Or San Francisco. Or Florida. Or any of the gay parades. Or Mardi Gras in Rio!" "I intend to," Hamed declared. "There is so much out there that I need to see and learn from. I want to see the downside as well. It can't all be paradise." "No," Frankie agreed with the prince, "it definitely isn't paradise. There will always be crime. But... You have to see for yourself. And Rashi, baby, I miss you." "I miss you, too, you hot American," Rasheed said in return, almost choking on the words. "Awwww," Imre teased as usual. "The two lover boyssss!" He earned a punch on the shoulder from Rasheed. "Change has to be done gradually," Hamed pondered. "Very slowly. We have started with Sheikh Fahed's The Place and it's doing good business without the slaving and the whoring. We can start licensing specific places to serve alcohol, like hotels, but never for minors." Hamed was learning a lot. He had realized that it was somewhere in his stars to be a leader, to lead his people to prosperity. With self-confidence, maturity, and strong will, the young prince began his trek, with his team by his side. He was guided by morals and by the teachings of his old Indian tutor, Master Hooman, who was always there to instill goodness. Frankie from New York was always ready with advice on the IT part, modernizing the operations. He would fly in every now and then, and their parties were events out of the Arabian Nights. Rasheed and Frankie would fuck each other first, and then they would move around sampling the other boys. It was always with regret and with choking tears that Frankie would leave the team and head back home, only in the hope of coming back soon.