silvertongue217
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 21, 2014
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The sultan’s home (even though it was a palace he insisted every one called it a home) was alive with energy and people. The dessert sun had just begun to set over the sand dunes leading to a wonderful and breathtaking sunset that mixed with the roasting yellow sands and dusty scattered rocks. The sky was painted with wonderful hues of striking violets, blues, and a bright orange. Free of civilization the stars lit up ad sparkled with intensity across the sky twinkling down at the many camels and travelers returning to the village or heading to the party. Those who were not rich or important enough to get in starred at envy at the beginnings of the oasis that the sultans house had been built on. If it weren’t for him being such a kind hearted and good sultan some might have even taken up arms and rebelled but he was and it was only because of his mercy that the village had thrived so well. So instead they turned ignoring the opulent gate or the loud sound of partying emanating from the smooth sprawling house.
Abbas Amari the dessert sultan watched from his balcony as the belly dancers moved and danced through the crowd. He was still in his bedroom his clothes laid out for him on the bed as well as his jewelry and ceremonial sword. He felt the part of him that hated attending such trivial parties fighting with the side of him that enjoyed the parties for the fun. Of course for a man with such wealth as he had he could afford to throw a party every night if he wanted to. Even though he was sure some expected him to of late he had found himself enjoying the peace and solidarity his little paradise in the sands offered him. He felt himself longing to tell every one to go home slip his pajamas out side and have…. Her come sit in his lap and watch the sun setting against the sand dunes together.
“The negotiators from Cairo are here my sultan” A man said his clipped English accent giving him a air of superiority as he came in without knocking (only he and her were allowed to do so besides the servants) “You must get dressed and move to meet them”
“Of course you would say that” Abbas grumbled turning to him and closing the doors to his balcony not caring that his advisor Mr. Statham saw him clad only in black boxer briefs. He ignored his clothes for now and folded his arms smiling at his friend.
“I am the sultan I do not wish to go to a party” Abbas said using his best commanding voice “so why is my best friend trying to force me to go when I can have his hands cut off for insisting I do some thing!”
“Because your best friend knows your duties to your people come before your wants” Mr. Statham said dryly making no move to rise to Abass's bait “now get dressed and come down I expect to see you in twenty minutes” he said matter of factly before turning on his heels and leaving the sultan alone in his room.
Abbas grumbled and turned his nimble fingers dancing over the silk of his clothing. The thought of getting dressed and rubbing shoulders with every one made his shiver so instead he turned starring at himself in the large mirror that dominated onside of the wall. His 39th birthday was only a few days away and he was happy to see that his efforts to be healthy and fit hadn’t been in vain. His skin was deep and dark tan from the years being out in the desert, his body was muscular and fit as healthy as one could hope to look at his age, his face hadn’t lost any of its striking defined features and he scratched the light stubble on his cut chin for a few seconds as he studied himself in the mirror, his hair was the only part of him that had begun to give away his age it was still black as midnight but a few grey pieces had managed to sneak up on him.
Maybe she would think it made him look distinguished
He continued to stare at himself in the mirror getting lost in his thoughts oblivious to the world and his room
Abbas Amari the dessert sultan watched from his balcony as the belly dancers moved and danced through the crowd. He was still in his bedroom his clothes laid out for him on the bed as well as his jewelry and ceremonial sword. He felt the part of him that hated attending such trivial parties fighting with the side of him that enjoyed the parties for the fun. Of course for a man with such wealth as he had he could afford to throw a party every night if he wanted to. Even though he was sure some expected him to of late he had found himself enjoying the peace and solidarity his little paradise in the sands offered him. He felt himself longing to tell every one to go home slip his pajamas out side and have…. Her come sit in his lap and watch the sun setting against the sand dunes together.
“The negotiators from Cairo are here my sultan” A man said his clipped English accent giving him a air of superiority as he came in without knocking (only he and her were allowed to do so besides the servants) “You must get dressed and move to meet them”
“Of course you would say that” Abbas grumbled turning to him and closing the doors to his balcony not caring that his advisor Mr. Statham saw him clad only in black boxer briefs. He ignored his clothes for now and folded his arms smiling at his friend.
“I am the sultan I do not wish to go to a party” Abbas said using his best commanding voice “so why is my best friend trying to force me to go when I can have his hands cut off for insisting I do some thing!”
“Because your best friend knows your duties to your people come before your wants” Mr. Statham said dryly making no move to rise to Abass's bait “now get dressed and come down I expect to see you in twenty minutes” he said matter of factly before turning on his heels and leaving the sultan alone in his room.
Abbas grumbled and turned his nimble fingers dancing over the silk of his clothing. The thought of getting dressed and rubbing shoulders with every one made his shiver so instead he turned starring at himself in the large mirror that dominated onside of the wall. His 39th birthday was only a few days away and he was happy to see that his efforts to be healthy and fit hadn’t been in vain. His skin was deep and dark tan from the years being out in the desert, his body was muscular and fit as healthy as one could hope to look at his age, his face hadn’t lost any of its striking defined features and he scratched the light stubble on his cut chin for a few seconds as he studied himself in the mirror, his hair was the only part of him that had begun to give away his age it was still black as midnight but a few grey pieces had managed to sneak up on him.
Maybe she would think it made him look distinguished
He continued to stare at himself in the mirror getting lost in his thoughts oblivious to the world and his room
