Date: Fri, 6 Aug 1999 21:24:17 EDT
From: Hidden12@aol.com
Subject: Eric Ch 8 (M/T, inter)

This is an ongoing fantasy story.  I provided the Nifty Archive and A.S.S.G.M 
with a copy for public nonprofit release; please no other distribution. I 
believe that this installment is entirely new to the public.  I hope you 
enjoy it.  Your comments and suggestions have given me new incentive to 
continue writing.

Practice safe sex, live to enjoy life.


Chapter 8.
Oman:  A small Sultanate on the Arabian Peninsula.  (Pretty neat place 
actually.)


A week's time found us several thousand miles and a culture away.  My firm 
had been courting the Omani government for some time' building a complete 
program for the renewal of their ground combat forces.  With Eric by my side 
as my aide, I was hoping that the contract would be finally signed.  

Throughout the course of the week we had met with high ranking officials of 
the Omani government and military to discuss the proposal and its possible 
execution.  Today we were at an army post outside of the city of Muscat to 
use the tank battalion garrisoned there and its facilities as an example of 
the improvements our program would make.  It was the middle of the afternoon, 
amidst the burning intensity of the sun and the delicate smell of desert 
dust, when the trademark trio of Land Rovers swept onto the parade grounds.  
Immediately conversations stopped as all looked to the arrival of His Majesty 
Sultan Q'abos.

Within moments Eric and I had been introduced to this relaxed and informal 
ruler of the Arab world.  Pleasantries aside, we immediately plunged back 
into how what my firm offered would change life for this battalion.  Eric 
kept quiet, stationed half a step behind my left shoulder, observing and 
listening to the reactions of the Omani leaders.  It was late in the 
afternoon when Sultan Q'abos offered to let Eric learn to drive one of the 
Chieftain tanks parked under the sunscreen.  Quickly I found myself standing 
alone with the Sultan as we both watched Eric receiving a brief from the tank 
commander.

"Tell me about your aide," asked the Sultan quietly.

"Eric?" I was surprised. I was expecting a question about the modernization 
program.  "Eric is mature beyond his years- alert, responsible.  I am 
extremely proud of him."

"He is your son then?"


"Well, Sir, no, not by blood....  He has been with me for some time now 
though," my voice trailing off as we both watched Eric climb down through the 
hatch into the driver's position and don the driver's helmet.  I had been 
told that the Sultan was gay.  I was now wondering where this would lead.

"It appears we share an interest then, an interest in fine young men."

I paused, surprised, but looking at his smiling face, I saw no threat; "Yes, 
Sir; we do then.  Eric is many things to me."

"I would like to get to know him better.....  more intimately at that." 

"Your Highness, he is not mine to give away.  He is my companion by choice.  
Only he can give you an answer," I said with all sincerity, but never the 
less looking down at the ground, somewhat concerned that he had taken an 
interest in Eric.  

"Very well; I will ask him;" he said reddening slightly as he turned away to 
get into the driver's side of the now dusty Land Rover.  I assumed correctly 
that his opportunity would be at the palace dinner this evening at Muscat, 
his capitol.  I was not going to be wrong.  

Our stay at the army post ended quickly following the Sultan's departure and 
the conclusion of Eric's token drive in the 60 ton tank.  Eric and I spent 
the remainder of the afternoon walking among the closely crowded stalls in 
the suks of Muscat.  We were amazed by 24 carat gold being sold by the ounce 
at one third of Stateside prices; spices, Frankincense, and Myrrh available 
in raw bulk form.  At one shop, our guide from the embassy casually slid 
behind the counter and started laying things out.  I was amazed.  I half 
expected an enraged Arab to emerge with a scimitar and cut him up into dog 
meat.  But the clerk later walked out to greet him firmly as he was weighing 
several gold pieces for me on a digital scale.  Major Lloyd commented that 
he'd gotten to know the owner quite well and that not only did his guests get 
a price break for him bringing them here, he got an even bigger one.  I ended 
up buying several pieces of intricately made 22 carat gold chain and a few 
religious pendants for my family.  For Eric, I selected an eighth inch wide 
gold chain that hung just over his collar bone.  It twinkled brightly against 
his tanned skin when the rustling of his oxford cloth shirt revealed it.

Back in the Intercontinental Hotel suite, I told Eric that the Sultan was 
interested in him.

"Eric, I don't quite know what to say; I don't know how to truly tell you 
that you are free to refuse.  I sincerely believe he will accept whatever you 
tell him, unlike, perhaps, some of his brethren or their stereotypes."

"Won't you be jealous?" he asked quietly.

Taking his face into my hands, pointing up to look into his eyes; "Eric, of 
course I will be; but you are free to do what you want, here, at home, 
anywhere; you know that.  My love for you won't fade because of this.  The 
insights, experiences, and make up of this man are so unique in this world.  
And, yes, he is also rich beyond imagination. While I expect that you'll be 
given something for your consent, it won't be a box full of gold!  Please do 
not to make your decision based on money; that I can give you."

Smiling wanly, Eric murmured a "Thanks" and then pecked my lips.

That night at dinner, Eric mingled with the guests freely- cordial, polite, 
but still ultimately a boy enjoying the wonders of a foreign world.  The 
palace was immaculate, built of fine stone, woods and plaster, every detail 
precisely executed with the finest of craftsmanship.  I found Eric standing 
alone on the balcony overlooking the northern edge of the harbor at Muscat.

"See those two ships out there?  The two painted desert tan?" I asked 
standing close behind him, one hand gently resting on the curve of his ass.

"Yeah, you mean the one that looks like a cruise ship and the one to the left 
of it?"

"Yep!  The big one is the Sultan's personal yacht, and the little one is the 
support ship."

Eric turned to me, looking up into my face in disbelief.  "You've got to be 
kidding!  It's huge!  All his?"

"Apparently so," I replied.

"It is one of my escapes," a new but now familiar voice answered from behind 
us.

"Perhaps later this evening I can take the young master for a tour?" the 
Sultan asked Eric as we both turned, surprised, to face him.  The sultan's 
powerful presence, one of a barrel chested body topping a set of long strong 
legs, dominated our presence.  He was dressed in a well fitting military 
uniform, with golden embroidered scimitars and a 'jambiya', a traditional 
Arabic curved double edged dagger, gracing the epaulets on his shoulders. 
"Would you be my guest for the evening?" he asked again with a smile and a 
quick wink of his eye.

I took half a step back from Eric, allowing him to make his own decision.  I 
wondered a jumble of thoughts; would he accept? what would happen?

"Sir, I would be honored." Eric replied, blushing.

The Sultan smiled and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. "Very good!  I shall 
like that.  One of my men will escort you to the ship shortly."  To me he 
said; "Come let us finish some business."  His arm now over my shoulder, he 
pulled me away and back into the room.  I followed as he signaled a few of 
his men, military and civilian to follow us out of the room.  I noticed 
another young lad, about 12 years old fall in with the group.  Jet black 
hair, dark eyes, olive skin, dressed in the traditional flowing robes and 
wearing sandals, this youngster was quite fetching.

Ultimately we ended up in the garage of the palace, itself a gargantuan 
space.  There were several mechanics working on vintage cars in one corner, 
stopping their work on a Duisenberg Model J when the Sultan approached.  
Porsches kept old Benzs company next to Ferraris and even an American muscle 
car or two.

"Every night I go for a drive.  Cars, each one a masterpiece of engineering!" 
the Sultan said with a smile and a small clap of his hands.  "But first, I 
accept the contract you have proposed.  I have some conditions Colonel 
Al-Shutt will review with you." Walking away from the group he indicated to 
me to follow.  When we were a polite distance away, peering into the candy 
apple green painted engine compartment of the Duisenberg he said "You keep 
fine company Sir; I will enjoy the company of your boy.  My people know and 
tolerate my tastes.  Eric will be returned to your hotel in the morning."

"He is the light of my life, your Highness; it would be a great injustice if 
he came out worse for wear," I said looking directly at the man.  Everyone 
stiffened, even at a distance, Arab and Westerner alike.  Rarely was Sultan 
Q'abos spoken to like this.

Speaking slowly the Sultan replied; "It is I who have asked the favor of the 
two of you; I will of course care for the boy appropriately.  In fact, I can 
guarantee that he will not, in fact, emerge 'worse for wear.'"  It was 
strange to be talking to a man who was clearly a senior Arab leader, the man 
who held the fate of my love and my company in his hands, and yet he spoke 
with a polite Oxford accent.

"Sir, I am honored by your attention to my boy, and patience with me." I 
said.  Following a brief examination of each car in turn, the Sultan excused 
himself while I talked details with his officials.  


Meanwhile, Eric had been met and delivered to the wharf on which the two 
ships were moored.  His guide said little during the car ride, Eric staring 
out the windows watching men trim the grass along the main freeway by hand.  
Even at night, the visible parts of the city were spotless.  Passing through 
twin guarded gates, found himself at the base of a long gangplank leading to 
a port in the side of this massive ship, a yacht for the sole use of the 
Sultan.  Staring up, Eric looked in wonder, his nose flaring at the salty 
scents of the harbor lapping at the hidden pilings below.


Eric met the Sultan shortly after they boarded the ship.  At his request, 
Eric doffed the dinner jacket and tie, handing them to an attendant who then 
disappeared.

"She is the 'Fulk al-Salamah'; she is nearly 600 feet long, equipped to go 
anywhere in the world for as long as she likes.  I have just recently gotten 
her back from the UN where she was documenting the ancient routes of the silk 
trade here in the Indian Ocean. 

 "Did you know the Arabs, those whom you think of as great desert nomads, 
have a tradition of seagoing trade that far predates your country?" The 
Sultan talked of his nation's proud history as they traveled the width and 
breadth of the ship- through working quarters, through the engineering 
spaces, through the scientific laboratories, until they neared the stern.  

"And this is my private quarters when I am aboard her..." All this time the 
Sultan's arm had been around Eric's shoulder, but it now moved down to lie 
gently upon a buttock.  As they passed through the great carved wooden doors, 
the Sultan squeezed the teen ass in his hand, and then with both hands on 
Eric's shoulders steered him to the middle of a great room.

The Sultan sat down in a chair as Eric turned in wonder to look at the room.  
The curtained front rippled in the light breeze coming in off the stern 
balcony, the tan colors accented by the darker colors of wood furnishings.  
Every where he turned he faced antiques inlaid with gold and jewels.  Amazed, 
Eric stopped, facing the Sultan.

"Take your clothes off for me, Eric."

Watching the Sultan, Eric began to unbutton his shirt, first the front and 
then the cuffs until it hung loose over his shoulders.  Bending over he 
removed his loafers, kicking them to the side, before slowly peeling off his 
socks.  Standing erect again, Eric slipped a hand over a nipple, stopping to 
pinch it before moving to the next.  He was pleased to see the Sultan 
massaging an obviously erect cock.  Releasing the buckle of his belt, Eric 
popped the top button and slid down the zipper of his fly until his pants 
fell to his knees.  Kicking them free, he stood back up, now dressed only in 
his open shirt and a pair of loose boxer shorts.  Eric was startled to notice 
two large black men standing behind the sultan, dressed in loose native garb. 
 They looked identical, each being very tall and well built.  They were the 
blackest men Eric had ever seen.  

"These two are my private guards and assistants," the Sultan said when he 
noticed Eric stop to stare. "Do not worry, the twins have been mute since 
birth.  Please, continue, you are so handsome."

Smiling briefly, Eric turned away from the men at an angle before slipping 
his shorts down until they fell to his ankles.  The Sultan smiled at the 
minor tease.  Eric stroked his now erect boydick for a moment relishing in 
the attention of this ruler.  To stand nearly naked before this Arab 
chieftain made his heart beat with excitement and his cock hard.  Eric 
wondered what all the night would bring.  Eric massaged both smooth asscheeks 
with his hands, spreading them apart exposing his hidden treasure before 
slowly moving his hands up to the small of his back.  Finally shrugging off 
his loose shirt, Eric stood naked before the Sultan, looking back over his 
shoulder at him, green eyes flashing.

"Come to me, boy," the Sultan said as he spread his legs and extracted his 
engorged cock from his pants.

Eric walked to him, stood smiling, naked at the man's knees.  The Sultan 
reached out to caress the silkiness of Eric's skin before tugging his arms 
downward.  Eric knelt, and reached out to caress the dark slab of cock in 
front of him.

Tongue extended, Eric tentatively touched the pee slit of this ruler seated 
before him.  Soon mancock filled his mouth and then his throat as Eric worked 
until his nose rubbed against black pubic hair.  Withdrawing, Eric suckled on 
the large testes, causing many a moan until the Sultan couldn't stand it any 
more and slid the head of his cock back into the wet confines of Eric's 
mouth.  While Eric sucked diligently, the Sultan reached over to caress 
Eric's back until his hands once again rested upon the smooth firmness of my 
boy's ass.

"Have you taken a man's penis in your body?" The sultan asked as his fingers 
explored the cleft of Eric's ass.

"I have, Your Highness," replied Eric as he stopped sucking long enough to 
look up.  

Suddenly the Sultan kissed him on the forehead and said, "Good, for that is 
what I will do to you!  Kneel down on the bed, I want to taste that supple 
ass of yours before I fill you with my cock."

When Eric was situated on the bed, on his knees, face down, the Sultan 
disrobed and climbed on the bed to meet Eric.  The man's hands wandered 
freely over the offered boyflesh before him, tracing his thumb down the boy's 
crack before settling on his asshole.

"Hmmm... You are tight, that's good.  I see your master keeps you hairless.  
Unusual for me, but a pleasant diversion" said the Sultan as he began to 
tongue around Eric's twitching hole.  His tongue traveled from tight hairless 
boy testicles, over the tan expanses of firm flesh, back to the inviting hole 
of his desire.  Soon, Eric writhed in pleasure, one hand jacking his 
straining cock, while a firm tongue darted into the confines of his ass.  
Quickly, thick fingers traded places with tongue, plunging into the depth of 
this boy loosening him for the coming assault.  Again, a tongue pressed into 
his flesh, this time deeper into his hole than before.

Tossing a huge stuffed pillow into the center of the bed the Sultan ordered; 
"On your back Eric; it is time for me to fuck you."  Dutifully, but with 
willing enthusiasm, Eric flipped over, drew his knees back to his chest and 
maneuvered the pillow under his butt until his slick hole winked invitation 
to the royalty about to enter him.

Sultan Q'abo packed a nice cock, but what Eric especially remembers is when 
the slick helmeted head of this uncut Arab cock entered his body.  
"Aaahuunnggh!" Eric moaned, hand clenching at the sheets, head thrashing from 
side to side as the big cock entered his tight channel.  The Sultan stopped 
momentarily, just long enough to shift his weight back on to his haunches 
before grabbing Eric by the ankles.  Soon he had the springs of the bed 
bouncing Eric's tight ass onto his cock as it pounded into my boy; sucking 
and smacking sounds filled the room.  Eric's cock, hard as usual while 
getting fucked, bounced around on his hard young abs, hands now clenched at 
the sheets to keep from being driven off the end of the bed.  

Eric opened his eyes to see the dark brown eyes of his lover inches away, a 
bead of sweat forming on the man's brow.  Eric snaked his tongue out to wet 
his lips and was met with the questing kiss and tongue of the Sultan.  Beard 
grating against still smooth face, the man kissed and sucked his way across 
Eric's face, leaving him glistening with saliva.  Breaking the feast, the 
Sultan ordered; "Back on your knees..."

Again, Eric willingly complied, presenting his dilated boy hole to be filled 
by glistening uncut brown cock.  With his knees the Sultan spread Eric's feet 
apart, moving closer he grabbed his cock with one hand and Eric's hip with 
the other.  Thrusting deep, the Sultan pushed Eric's chest down until just 
the boy's ass filled the air.  Long, deep pounding thrusts were followed by 
very short strokes where just the head of his Highness's cock would enter the 
hot wet confines of Eric's ass and then pull out.  Finally, frantically 
slamming his dick into the teen body before him, the man came; each time 
Eric, his face buried in the delicate fabric covering the bed, could feel the 
cock buried within his bowels twitch and shoot out its load deep within him.

Falling apart in exhaustion, Sultan Q'abo moved back to his chair while Eric 
closed his eyes and rested on the bed to enjoy the warm glow emanating from 
his ass.  Brief moments passed before he felt strong hands massage his back 
and then legs.  However, Eric's eyes flew open when he felt a second pair of 
hands join the caressing of his body!  Barely inches away from his face, a 
huge black cock dangled from the naked body of one of the Sultan's guards.  
Indeed, the other was also naked and represented the other pair of hands now 
grabbing Eric's ankles.

A glance at the Sultan showed Eric that he was sitting in his chair, stroking 
a reviving cock as he watched intently as the two black studs clambered onto 
the bed to join the 15 year old American boy laid out naked there. Laying on 
his right side with one leg held high in the air, Eric looked up and saw what 
must have been an 11 inch cock pointed at his face.  Although not overly 
thick, it was the longest thing Eric had ever seen attached to a human.  Eric 
was still licking his lips in anticipation when he felt the other Nubian's 
cock slide into his cum filled hole.  Twins, he realized as he felt the tip 
of this cock buried to a point in his writhing body where no other cock had 
ever gone.  Twins, both with 11 inch dicks.

Eric opened his mouth to accept the second black cock and was driven upon it 
by a thrust up his ass.  Fighting back a gag reflex, Eric struggled to relax 
enough to let it slip into his throat.  Linking arms above Eric's impaled 
body, the twins began to skewer the white teen boy between them, each 
thrusting inward at the same time.  Their free hands roamed over Eric's 
twisting body, pinching a nipple, jacking at his hard, oozing boycock, 
swatting an exposed ass cheek; all over their ebony hands contrasted with 
Eric's silky tanned skin.  Over and over the twins thrust their black 
hardness into the young body between them.  One black cock sliding between 
wet red lips; the other glistening as it pumps in and out of Eric's tight 
hole, black cock disappearing into the stretched ring of flesh guarding the 
entrance to my boy.

Time blurs as Eric thinks only of breathing between thrusts of the cock in 
his throat and of the growing erotic fire in his ass.  Never before had he 
felt so sexually stimulated, it was almost dreamlike.  Then, long black cocks 
pulled out and sprayed their creamy loads all over the heaving chest of my 
boy as he lay there exhausted from the pummeling he has received.  As milky 
white lines of liquid run down his sides, Eric lazily rubs it into his skin 
with his fingertips as the Nubians quietly retreat from the room, their job 
completed.

The Sultan rises, now draped in a loose robe, to stand next to Eric as he 
pants on the bed. "You enjoy yourself young master?" He asks dragging a 
fingertip through the puddles of cum still pooled on Eric's chest.

Stretching and smiling, Eric replied softly "I did very much your Highness." 

"Good, so did I; so did I my boy!" the Sultan said caressing Eric's reddened 
ass cheek.  "But, I don't think we are done yet," he said with a smile.  
Quickly the Sultan moved to lay on top of Eric, his deep duty musk mixed with 
finest cologne filled Eric's nose.  Rolling Eric onto his belly, the Sultan 
parts my boys legs to explore his tender cleft with his hands.  Pushing a 
thumb into the looseness of Eric's cum filled ass, he parts the boy's legs 
even farther exposing the youth for another fucking.  

Eric, knowing full well what was coming, smiled lazily and ground his cock 
into the softness of the bed below.  Sore or not from the previous 
penetrations, Eric's ass clutched tightly to the erection pressed into him 
slowly, but forcefully, from above.  Grunting, Eric pushed back with his 
arms, sliding his whole body back and completing his impalement on the 
Sultan's cock.  Already delirious from sexual stimulation and near exhaustion 
from the week's activities, Eric could only participate in a daze while 
slowly fucked again.

The Sultan reveled to look down at this American boy taking his cock up such 
a fine ass.  The scent of cum filled his nose; Eric's body covered in the 
drying seed.  This boy's soft yet muscular legs spread wide to make room for 
him.  Already fucked several times, the Sultan expected Eric would be sore in 
the morning.  Sliding full length in and out of this beautiful boy, 
periodically pulling out to watch the puckered hole clench and waiting for 
Eric to push his ass up to meet his bare prick, it took nearly 20 minutes 
before a second ejaculation came bubbling up into the receptive body beneath 
him.

Still with his softening cock inside Eric, the Sultan leaned over the boy's 
back to whisper in his ear, "I bid you good night, remain as my guest here 
until the morning."  With a final gentle caress down Eric's smooth thigh, the 
man moved off across the room and was gone.  Lights dimmed seemingly by 
themselves, leaving Eric alone to listen to the night sounds of this exotic 
port as he drifted back into sleep.

I spent a largely sleepless night in the Intercontinental Hotel.  I'd walked 
the beaches and balconies of this 5 star hotel until boredom and exhaustion 
overtook me.  I lay in bed thinking about Eric.  I hoped he had gone 
willingly and not out of a consideration for money, either mine or his.  
Sleep finally took me.

The next morning I woke to the sounds of my door opening.  I shot up to see 
an Indian porter wheel an elaborate breakfast into my suite.  Turning to 
leave the man announces politely that "Courtesy of his Highness the Sultan.  
I am also to inform you that Master Eric will return at ten." 

Eric woke the next morning, still naked in the familiar room.  Immediately an 
attendant entered, a blond Nordic youth of about 18, speaking with a heavy 
German accent.  "Follow me, I will get you cleaned up, then perhaps a swim to 
wake you up, and then breakfast.  The Sultan has already left for the day; he 
will see you again before you depart the Airport."  The rest of the morning 
shot by, his time taken with bathing and eating a sumptuous breakfast in a 
dinning hall filled with the chosen few of the Sultan's entourage.  Eric 
smiled to see more than a few boys his age, some older, some younger, of 
various sizes and races.


Following our rejoining, and ride to the airport, three Range Rovers zoomed 
onto the tarmac as we lined up to board the British Airways 767 to London.  
Security emerged from seemingly nowhere to isolate us on the tarmac, until we 
stood alone.  From the first Rover, the Sultan, dressed in now dusty khakis, 
emerged.  

"Ah, my dear Eric I wanted to see you before you left us," Sultan Q'abos said 
as he strode up, followed by his small contingent of guards and retainers.  
He reached out and shook our hands, both of us surprised.

"For you Eric, I have a small gift," he said fishing out a small wooden box 
about 3 inches square from a pants cargo pocket. "I want you to have it to 
help you remember the people of Oman and our culture.  Arabs the world over, 
and even a few Israelis, will recognize you as my friend and a friend of 
Oman."  Eric found a small wooden box, with gold clasp and hinges thrust into 
his hands.  

"When I saw the mark of the triton tattooed on your calf, I considered adding 
my own seal.  But of course that is only required of those who would stay in 
my service."

"Your Highness, thank you.  Thank you very much.  I don't know what else to 
say really.  Your ship is magnificent, and I.... and I enjoyed myself." Eric 
blushed deep red. "But my life takes me elsewhere."

Laying a hand on Eric's shoulder, the Sultan added, "I am pleased you enjoyed 
our time.  You are the flower of your nation.  If you ever need any type of 
assistance, the resources of my country are at your disposal."  With that he 
squeezed my boy's shoulder, said, "Farewell," returned to the driver's side 
of the lead Rover, and roared off across the tarmac to a guarded gate.  Eric 
and I stood speechless as the fascinated crowd gathered back to board the 
waiting jet.

Once we were seated alone in a row of first class, I prodded Eric to open the 
box.  Instead Eric handed it to me saying "You open it." but leaned into me 
with great excitement.  I rotated the box through my hands, enjoying the hard 
smoothness of fine rosewood.  The box appeared to be old and clearly made by 
a skilled craftsman.  The lid released smoothly revealing a silk lined 
interior and a note.  Extracting the note, both Eric and I gasped at the same 
time.  Below in my hands lay a pendant in the form of the Crossed Scimitar 
and central vertical Jambiya, the Royal seal of Sultan Q'abo, executed in 
gold, platinum and emeralds.  The whole thing was about an inch and a half 
wide by an inch tall.  Spectacular and priceless, it left us both in awed 
silence.  I handed the note to Eric, who with nervous fingers unfolded it to 
read: 


"My Dear Eric: You are now an honored member of the House of Q'abo.
My deepest thanks for your time and affections.  This is a gift of the royal 
seal of my house, I hope you will wear it with pride.  It will attach to the 
chain you wear now. Do not worry about Customs, I have taken care of it.
You are most welcome to return as my guest at any time.


//signed//
Mouhammed Al-Seyd bin Q'abo
Sultan of Oman


"Wow, he must think the world of you, kiddo!" I said handing him the box.

"Put it on for me, Eric asked turning and lifting his chin to present me with 
the fine gold chain I'd bought for him draped around his neck.  Undoing the 
clasp in the back, I slid the chain through the pendant's mounting ring and 
reattached it around Eric's neck.

I first let the magnificent yet subtle piece of jewelry flash from atop his 
shirt, allowing Eric to look at it before I pulled his collar up over it.  
Even still, from my seat, I could see it twinkle against the smooth tan skin 
of his chest. Eric laid one hand over the top of it, smiled and leaned his 
head against my shoulder closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.  He 
obviously had had a busy night.

Our flight was long, the tedium broken only by the occasional wanderings of a 
hand beneath an airline blanket.  Ultimately restraining ourselves, we did 
never the less exchange a grope or two.  Once Eric had woken back up, I 
asked, "So you going to tell me about your boat tour?"

"Sure!  It was great.  We started off in the main gallery, filled with teak 
and fine furniture.  He took me to the engine room to see these great big, 
huge steam turbines.  The prop shaft must have been four feet in diameter; It 
was huge!!!"  Eric continued on in an animated fashion, clearly impressed by 
what he'd seen.  "The bridge was all decked out with radars, and satellite 
systems.  He showed me the GPS equipment, showed me where some of the things 
we are selling to him would go and all...."

"What did his bedroom look like? I asked innocently.

"It was huge too!  It had its own balcony off the back deck.  Curtains draped 
the edges, Gold fixtures on green marble in the bathroom.  God, the whole 
thing reeked of money, but it wasn't tacky by any means... just  M O N E Y." 
he spelled out.

Flying at 35,000 feet over Hamburg en route to London I asked him more 
quietly, "How did you spend your time in there?  Certainly not writing a 
report to Robin on 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous did you?"  I felt a 
twinge of guilt, but I wanted to know too!

Eric blushed and rubbed up against my shoulder a bit before answering in a 
whisper to my ear, "You're going to have to wait.... and then I'll show you!  
At least some of it!"  As he finished his tongue flickered unexpectedly 
against my ear causing me to jerk and almost swallow my laugh.

"Fair enough...  fair enough!"


The rest of the flight home, was otherwise uneventful.  I followed Eric off 
the airplane at JFK.  Even after the long flight, I found myself focused on 
the boy in front of me, a delight and salve to my soul.  He wore brown 
leather shoes that rose over his ankles like thin hiking boots.  Loose tan 
cargo pants, creased by the long flight, billowed with each stride of his 
thin, yet muscular as I well knew, legs moving him toward the terminal before 
us.  A black knapsack with "North Face" logo embroidered in blue above the 
zipper partially hid his green based multi color shirt, almost a paisley, 
with a white cotton undershirt exposed at the collar.  Periodically I could 
see a glint from the gold chain holding the Sultan's gift across his chest.  
Finely featured hands and fingers, forearms covered in fine eiderdown exposed 
by the shirt cuff rolled back to just below his elbows.  Light brown hair, 
parted in front, layered in back with blonde highlights. From behind I walked 
entranced by his beautiful ears, covered in a still yet finer down and each 
crowned with a steel ring in each lobe about half an inch in diameter.  
Though I could not see it at the moment, I knew his deep green eyes with 
flickering black lashes would be scanning the world before him.  His face led 
by a beautifully sculpted nose, the facial skin an ivory color with cheeks 
frosted red.  Eric, sensing my quietness turned and smiled, even white teeth 
behind pale red lips.


"Are you OK?" he asked.


"Yeah," I smiled, turning red at having been caught.


"What!?"


"Oh, just enjoying the view and thinking."


"About?"


Closing the half step between us, I leaned over to whisper in his ear, "How 
much I love and treasure you."  Now it was Eric's turn to turn red. "You know 
I think that steward liked what he saw too.  What do you think?"


Bright teeth flashed as Eric smiled.  "He was certainly friendly wasn't he."


Eric did relive his moments with the Sultan with me within a week of 
returning home.  I had to use a large black dildo from downstairs to 
replicate the absent Nubians.  All in all it proved to be an erotic and 
fascinating evening for us both as we relived the excitement of that exotic 
land.

A month of the summer passed by quickly as I worked hard everyday executing 
the requirements of our Omani contract.  From around the world my firm pulled 
people and resources to bring to bear on the Omani land forces.  For a sum in 
the billions, we had agreed to analyze, train, partially re-equip, and build 
logistic support for all of the Omani armoured ground combat forces.  This 
contract alone, if reasonably well executed, would assure the wealth of all 
the core members of my firm.