Sybaritic Splendors

[Note: Unlike my usual technique of researching cultural backgrounds, I am deliberately making up appropriate-sounding nonsense words for the Arabic names and places and such in this story, so any relationship between these words and actual places, people or things is purely and completely coincidental!]

“Al-Qabash Air?” I asked my secretary. “For a flight to Singapore?”

“They had the best fares for a first-class flight.” Rita defended herself.

“But an Arabic airline?” I said.

“What do you think, the stewardesses are going to all be terrorists?” Rita shot back. She’s been with me for fifteen years, that long and a secretary gets the right to talk back to you; you can’t spare her and she damned well knows it! “If you want me to switch the flight to American Airlines or something, I will.” she said. “But you’ll pay more and it’ll take longer for you to get there.”

“All right, Al-Qabash it is.” I said.

“I got you a good deal.” she said. “And they promise you a ride you’ll never forget. Sybaritic splendors in flight, they said.”

Do you even know what sybaritic means? I thought to myself, but I DIDN’T say it. Still, that was an intriguing adjective for them to use about a first-class accommodation, you have to admit!

I did what any executive would do these days when confronted with such a promise; I went back to my office and visited their website. Al-Qabash Airlines is a wholly-owned airline of the Emirate of Kumistan, which sits uncomfortably halfway between America’s allies and America’s enemies in the Persian Gulf. Her government (okay, I scooted over at this point and visited the CIA’s website on the country, so maybe I was thinking some about terrorists) is strictly neutral in the current conflicts. Kumistan had some financial problems; her royal family was wealthy enough, but the general populace wasn’t as fortunate. She was noted to be trying some rather daring and unique solutions to close her massive trade deficit.

Sybaritic splendor, eh? I mused. Definitely an intriguing adjective. I revisited their website and clicked the link to visit a view of their first-class accommodations.

Not even two seats on each side of the aisle. You had a single seat, big enough to sprawl in (with a moveable armrest about two-thirds across to let you buckle yourself up for lift-off/landing/turbulence). There was a steward (the flights were strictly limited to male passengers, in accordance with their country’s customs, the website explained), who was wearing a filmy set of harem-pants and nothing above that until you got to the turban, one end of which was wrapped around the neck. The swarthy man was smiling, extending a tray of exotic goodies. Alcohol was available at no extra charge, but you had to request it prior to departure. Good Muslims don’t drink, I knew already, though their coffees can make up for it. I was fine with a drink-free flight, even one that would take fourteen hours like this one.

And they promised “delights beyond the dreams of 1001 Arabian Nights,” with a full service consisting of each passenger being assigned a personal servant for the duration of the trip. And all of this for a price that would make Delta sweat buckets if they knew about it. Rita was right, she’d gotten me the best deal for the money. But then, I’d known that ahead of time, really.

The men who checked me into the flight were dressed in head-to-toe white robes, and I was wondering a little about that, but once I got inside, the plane’s seats looked just as promised. They had a wireless connection for my laptop, and a phone jack that would let me make any calls I wanted, anywhere in the world. I expected to get a lot of work done during the next fourteen hours.

“Welcome aboard Al-Qabash Airlines Flight 107 direct from Los Angeles International to Singapore.” the captain announced. “We have now sealed the plane and will be leaving in ten minutes. Please remain safely seatbelted and in your seats until the sign had been turned off after departure. Your personal servants will be joining you now, and they will be yours for the rest of the flight.”

And with a sound of jingling bells and a warble of pipes, the boys came dancing down the aisle, two-by-two. I don’t know if they were on the plane already or had boarded after us, but each of them were only wearing a rather abbreviated loincloth and were otherwise bare. Their ages ranged at a guess from what I judged to be eight or nine years of age all the way up to fourteen or fifteen.

When the boys got to a certain point in their procession, they stopped, and then the pairs of boys separated, one sitting in the unused-third of the seat and pulling a second seat-belt out and fastening themselves in. My “personal servant” was a youth maybe ten years of age, with dark hair and sensously lithe body well shined with oils, his face a marvelously beautiful and even-toned brown the color of deep-natural leather, but soft and supple as a newborn calf, and with eyes just as winsomely enticing. “My name is Jabeed, and I am here to serve you.” the boy said to me. “Am I pleasing to you, my Lord? If not, one younger or older can be brought to you in my place.”

What could I say to that? “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I said.

Behind me, the passenger was less polite about it. “No, no, I want an older boy! I asked for an older boy, right on the edge of puberty!” His seatmate was a seven-year-old who seemed devastated at this.

Another passenger spoke up, his servant was one of the older ones. “That’s all right.” he said. “I prefer them young, the younger the better, myself. Why don’t we just switch?”

The change was made and the young boy rejected was almost tearfully grateful to the passenger who took him, because he gave the man an embrace that was like a son embracing his long-absent father. “You want me, my Lord, you truly want me?” the boy exclaimed to his new master.

“You’re everything I could want in a boy.” the passenger, a handsome Nordic man. “Everything and more.”

“I will please you greatly!” the boy promised him avidly. “I will please you greatly, and over and over again!” I found myself throwing a hell of an erection at that. Sure, I’d fantasized about sex with a boy, but been stopped because I didn’t want to rape anyone and how do you ask a kid if he would like to have sex with you? So I’d kept my hands and my eyes (mostly) to myself, contenting myself with stories and drawings (I’d tried actual pictures, but the sad eyes of the boys in those things was a total turn-off to me, I hadn’t even tried for any of those in years and years).

“Yes, you will.” the man said to his new boy. “Now sit down and fasten up, we’re about to leave.”

I felt a hand touch mine, it was Jabeed. “Do not regret choosing me.” he said to me, perhaps misunderstanding the yearning in my eyes. “I shall be as pleasing as Douad, I promise you. Pleasing you greatly, over and over again, for the entire flight, as much of me as you want.”

Now I really had a boner. “I’m sure you will.” I grunted out, and closed my eyes. Sybaritic splendor, they’d promised on this flight. So far, they’d delivered a little too much for comfort!

Take-off was only slightly delayed, and after we were on our way, the light went out. Jabeed said to me. “Now, my service to you will begin soon. Is there anything else I can do for you until then? Would you like me to fetch you a drink or a bit of honeyed fruit to nibble on? It will be a long flight, after all, and I would have you be at your full strength for when my service begins.”

“When does it begin?” I asked. I mean, he was going to fetch me food or drink and didn’t count that a service? “I mean, you’re a nice-looking kid and everything, but I’m not sure I’ll have a lot for you to do.”

“My service will begin when we are beyond the 200-mile limit, which is a clear entry into international waters.” Jabeed said. “At that time, there can be no question of any law but that of Kumistan applying to you and to me. We will be there in less than ten more minutes. Would you like something to drink until then?”

“No, I’m fine.” I said. Kumistani law applying before he could start his service? I wish now I’d read up on Kumistan, but hell, I was heading for Singapore!

Well, I had ten minutes. I used the wireless connection, and found little to help me. Kumistan was NOT a Muslim country, it still followed some older, local religion I hadn’t heard of. The website described it as akin to Zoroastrianism, but there were differences.

I heard a series of exotic-sounding bells. “We are now past the 200-mile limit.” Jabeed said to me. “Now my service to you can begin, and I shall please you greatly, over and over again.

I looked over at Jabeed, and he was pulling off his loincloth, leaving his body completely naked and exposed to me! I looked at his tiny organ lying between his legs, a bare inch and a half long, uncut, a slightly darker brown in color.

“Now I shall please you greatly.” Jabeed said to me again and he got up and crawled into my lap, one of his hands deftly pushing the armrest between us up and out of the way into the seat above it.

I looked around to see that all the other “personal servants” were doing the same to their men. The Nordic guy had the young lad he had saved from the unhappy passenger in his lap and they were kissing...I mean really kissing, not the quick peck you give a nephew or such! Beyond him was an African-American man, darker than his brown companion, and he had gotten the lad standing up on either side of him and he was licking the boy’s ass. The boy moaned and one arm reached down to squeeze the black man’s crotch, and two big, black hands moved to begin to open his fly.

“Master?” came Jabeed’s call. “Let me please you.” he said again. I looked and Jabeed’s face was close to my own. So very, very close. His lips were lightly moist, he had licked them before he spoke. His naked body was in my arms, upon my lap, and my boner which had quieted some now surged up again, poking the lad in his rump and he smiled, giggled as he felt it, and his lips reached for mine. I didn’t have to move, I just had to let him kiss me.

The kiss I got was NOT avuncular in any way! It was an all-out, passionate, burning lavish of lips upon my own, and I opened my own lips and that pink tongue of his darted inside to play upon my teeth and tease my own older tongue as a kitten teases an older cat to come up from that nap and play! And like the old cat, my tongue rose and stretched and wrapped around his pink-kitten tongue and the two rolled upon each other.

My hand moved without my choosing down to the nexus of his legs, found the tiny little organ and clutched it. Oh, God! I had my hand on a kid’s dick! I finally had my hand on a kid’s dick! Oh, God! I moaned louder than Jabeed as I worked the little dong and felt it pulse happily in my fingertips and Jabeed kissed me harder and his arms clutched at my shoulders, at my arms, feeling my bigger, stronger body.

“Oh, oh, Master!” he gasped when I let his tongue go at last when I felt it withering in my own. “Let me please you now, please let me please you!”

“Of course.” I moaned as he slid from my lap to curl at my feet and his hands and his face dove into my lap, his eager fingers working at my fly. I slid forward so this dusky, eager lad from the Middle East could work at my zipper.

“May I help you, sir?” came a voice beside me.

I looked up to see one of the stewards. No longer wearing the all-concealing white robe, he now wore the filmy harem-pants I had seen on the website, his bare, broad chest speaking of the Tales of Scheherazade in their twin mounds of dark-nippled breasts.

“Help?” I managed as Jabeed’s hands triumphantly pulled my hard prong from my fly into the open air.

The steward extended a tray. On it were not candied fruits, but rather an array of condoms and oiled lubricants. “You may choose any of these you wish or feel you need.” he said to me. “Or if you wish to take your boy roughly instead, you may within certain limits. We have trained them all, but arrangements can be made for a virgin boy on a future flight if you would prefer one.”

“No, no!” I gasped. “Jabeed is doing very well.” for Jabeed had gulped down my cock and was generally trying to stuff the entire length into his adept and talented throat. “Uh, maybe...maybe later.”

“Of course, sir.” the steward moved on.

“Give me a nice pack of your best lube.” the passenger ahead of me said. “I plan to bugger this boy and bugger him hard.”

All around me were men enjoying their boys which had been given to us as a perk of the flight! Sybaritic delights indeed! On the movie screen was playing a line of harem dancers, the music wasn’t encapsulated into the speaker-phones, but was playing over the speaker system, adding their sensuous sounds to the proceedings. The tune must have been one the dervishes would use for the sounds grew louder, more intense, faster, faster, louder, pounding and pounding and pounding away at my ears. I was getting lost in that sound, and in the joys pulsing out of my dong at Jabeed’s ministrations.

“Oh, God, Jabeed.” I groaned. “Yours. I want to suck yours. Please, get up and around here so I can do yours, too! Oh, God, a little boy’s cock and it’s mine, all mine!” For the next fourteen hours, no less!

Jabeed got up on the seat, and with me on my knees and his legs up beside each shoulder with his feet against the window, we just fit. I scarfed down that hot little boy prick and Jabeed nursed me with added fervor. I was close to my peak, I needed to come and I wanted to come right in this hot young mouth, I wanted to drench this lad with my spunk, I wanted to make him swallow all my jizz, all of it.

Jabeed spasmed and groaned underneath me, his little body thrashed with his climax, and I tasted a small amount of salty fluid exude from his prick, I licked it up like a wonderful treat, and it was, I had made this young boy come, I had taken him and he was willing and eager and he had given himself to me and was working on me, and I had brought him all the way to climax, and him happy and enjoying it and writhing happily under me. This was how it was supposed to be like! Not those morose youths in those horrible pictures, but the exuberance of unfettered, uninhibited youths, what could be better than to make such a strapping lad moan and squirt his feeble little pre-seed into your mouth.

My own cock answered that, for it burst into pre-orgasmic mode, the building sensations piling upon each other. Yeah, make him take it, make him drink it, give that boy a taste of a man’s love-juice, have him suck it down like so much lemon-flavored Kool-Aid! God, yes!

And I groaned and was ready to hold Jabeed’s head in place, but the kid never moved, even with my cock hotter than hell in his mouth, he held on and when I groaned the loudest damned climax I’d had in a hell of a long time, all the boy did was hold on tighter and I jerk-squirted, hard, and the boy began to gulp down my come-packs as fast as I could pump them into his mouth.

I didn’t know how much this desire to have sex with a boy had been building up inside of me, I guess, because I had one hell of an orgasm, I must have dumped a pint of jizz right into Jabeed’s gullet, and the boy took every last drop. More, when I was finally done, exhausted, my willy shrinking down, he held on and kept it tight even as I sat back upright, he pivoted to keep my dong firmly in his hot little mouth and he nursed it like a piglet nurses its mother, pulling the last dregs of my come-juice into his mouth.

I smiled and fondly fondled his dick, and it was rigid and I enjoyed pumping it for him as he kept on working me. Another few minutes of this, I mused, and I’d be ready to go again, I hadn’t been like this since I’d been a teenager in my first gay bathhouse orgy!

Such a beautiful boy, Jabeed, I mused as I looked at his face, all gentle and blissfully wrapped around my pud. Such a sweet, beautiful boy. I wondered if they’d let me arrange to keep him when we got to Singapore? Thailand, maybe, but not Singapore, I decided. Too bad.

The steward came back by and he saw my now-hard cock in Jabeed’s mouth. “Would you like one of these now?” He asked me as he again displayed his lube and condoms.

“What would you like, Jabeed?” I asked my little playmate. “Or would you like?”

Jabeed smiled and he rose up, pointed. “The blue one is best.” he said and then back down and his mouth recaptured my dong.

I took the blue-labeled lube packet. “I almost hate to ask you to stop.” I began.

Jabeed rose up, and as he did, his mouth sucked my turgid prick dry. “Let me serve you in all ways, my Master.” he said. “For in service of you is my greatest delight.”

“Oh, God!” I sighed and I handed him the packet. “If you only knew how long I waited to hear a boy say that to me. I didn’t think I ever would!”

Jabeed’s hands applied the lube to my cock. He worked the lube until it was a solid, thin sheath of oil upon my prong, warm and soothing to my sex-ravaged glans. His brown limbs shone from his exertions as he lifted himself up to impale himself upon me. I watched the little body lower itself and when I felt the hot little hole touch my cock-tip, I felt myself reeling from the raw sensation of it all! Oh, God, yes, sit on my cock, kid, sit on it and let me feel that tight little pair of buns around my cock, let me bury it inside you, let you ride it for me. I couldn’t have contained my second climax from starting right away if I hadn’t started looking around, trying to find something to distract me from the feel of Jabeed’s ass wrapping itself around my cock! But there was little around me to deter these feelings, it was the opposite of determent, it was encouraging them!

The sounds of the music and the men and boys having sex all around me were now augmented by the addition of some older boys to the mixture, these were from fifteen up to maybe twenty or so, and they were walking down the aisles, pausing now and then to show us how they would suck each other. A sturdy young man with a beginning of a beard on his face had a boy of maybe six years riding on his prong as he walked, he fucked the boy as he walked on down the aisle, and the boy was moaning as he rode the young man’s prong. The movie of the dancing women were now that of a gay orgy of men and boys, one boy was being roughly fucked by one man after another, and the boy was moaning and loving every moment of it.

I gave up, returned my look to Jabeed. The boy was having some trouble with my thick cock, he had taken it in his mouth easily, but his ass wasn’t as large as that, and he was grunting with the effort.

“You don’t have to if you can’t.” I told him. “It’s all right. I don’t want to hurt you, any, Jabeed. You don’t have to do it.”

“Yes...I...will!” and Jabeed groaned and he thrust himself downwards and my glans popped into his little sphincter. Jabeed howled and I couldn’t tell if the howl was from pain or joy, but then Jabeed pushed himself further down and his howls now were purely of joy!

Jabeed finished by ending up in a kneeling position on my lap, his ass holding most of my cock and Jabeed threw his head back and crooned his delight!

I was impaling Jabeed with my dong, but I was his prisoner, for I couldn’t move so long as he had me thus in thrall. I could only sit there and drink in the pleasure as Jabeed began to move, slowly at first and then faster and faster as he got his body adjusted to my massive prong up inside his boy-rump, and I loved the feel of him bouncing on me like that. His young face was right up next to mine, I could see his rapture as he rode me, his unbridled pleasure at being my boy-toy, and my passion rose up slowly as he rode me, a slow, majestically rising, genuinely sybaritic splendor of sexual excitement that I never wanted to end.

But at long, long last, I again climbed to the heights of ecstasy and I ejaculated my second load right into Jabeed’s butt and he sighed in his approval of my orgasm and as I finished, he laid his head over and onto my chest and he sighed once more, and this gentle little angel of Arabia went to sleep with my cock still up his butt.

I lowered my seat-back to recline position and the two of us stayed like that for some time, I went to sleep but awoke to find my cock again hard, Jabeed again riding me, and he milked my rod of yet a third load before subsiding once again.

The fourteen hours, needless to say, were all too short, and after a time, there came a voice over the speaker. “We are approaching territorial waters once again. Please conclude your activities and conform to local laws within the next ten minutes’ time.”

Jabeed again donned his loincloth. Once the 200-mile limit had again been crossed (my own memory is that different countries had different limits, but I guess I can’t blame the airline for taking no chances), Jabeed smiled and gave me a final kiss, and he and his fellow personal servants got back into their third-part seats, and Jabeed helped me buckle up and then buckled himself for the landing. Once we were down, and at the terminal, there was another little ceremonial sound of music, and Jabeed and his fellow servants again lined up two-by-two and they paraded back to wherever in the plane they had come from. Once they were gone, and the stewards were again in their full-length white robes, they unsealed us and we disembarked.

I staggered out into the sunlight in what for me should have been the wee hours of the morning. I made it through Customs and to my hotel room. After I recovered, I called Rita.

“How was your flight?” She wanted to know.

“Everything they promised it would be.” I said. “I want to fly Al-Qabash Airlines whenever possible from now on.” I wondered how, or if, they could handle a domestic flight? Oh, well, I wanted their airline to thrive, and could forego the pleasures domestically if need be. Though I was going to volunteer for a lot more international business trips from now on!

“And how were their sybaritic splendors?” Rita wanted to know.

“Very...sybaritic.” I said. “Very sybaritic indeed.”

THE END
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