MARK ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, AND A BUNCH OF NAKED NUBIANS

Cleopatra VII Neothera, direct descendent of Ptolemy, himself a boon companion and general in the army of the mighty Alexander, was a specimen of dazzling dimension, larger than life and twice as beautiful- she wore the double crown of falcon and cobra with arrogant dignity…and never mind that she had murdered her little brother to do so; the lovely lady ruled Egypt as well as any man, and many would say even better. Besides, her brother, Ptolemy XII Dionysos, had been an effeminate wastrel with his heavy eye shadow, lavender loincloths, bangles, boys, and mincing ways. Good riddance to the unfortunate lad; found all blue and bloated face down among the reeds (and somehow overlooked by the crocodiles) of the Nile. The priests at Karnack and Luxor reluctantly acknowledged a queen in a man’s world and life moved on in its timeless rhythms…except for one little problem- the Romans.

Always the fucking Romans! Cleopatra hailed from sires who had wrested a crown already many millenniums old from the crumbling empire of Alexander when Rome was still a stinking backwater straddling the foetid banks of the Tiber bullying its way among the barbaric tribes of Italia and a rump of bloodless Etruscans- fucking Rome, who did they think they were?! Well, actually, who they thought they were…were masters of the world. Cleopatra was no fool and reckoned she could see the writing on the wall. Not lacking in self-confidence, she would meet the Roman upstarts and easily outsmart them.

Mark Antony was an ugly brute with the kind of sex appeal that rides squarely between his legs and not above the shoulders. THAT was so prodigious that he was legendary throughout the Mediterranean Basin and, though he couldn’t have realized it, would go down in history as a handsome lothario…well, he got half of it right. He had never liked the simpering Octavian…but I won’t bore you with the details. The death of the swaggering stud’s wife, Fulvia, off to an early grave (life was short and bitter sweet in antiquity), and a subsequent second marriage to a lady he couldn’t stand, set him oddly free and Antony had the run of the civilized world, landing in Egypt one sweltering day with a hard-on that felt like a lit firecracker three yards long.

‘Darling…’ the purred invitation matched the feline grace of the dark-haired Egyptian queen. ‘You seem distracted lately, is everything alright?’ Antony stared at the tiled floor with bloodshot eyes, making (and failing) an effort to focus on something other than his throbbing headache. Starting and ending with the Queen, he ruefully reflected that he must have screwed by now the better part of the feminine half of lower Egypt and he was damned tired…that’s all. Nightly (and daily) feasts and fests- to Isis, Osiris or what the fuck ever- loaded with cannabis and gods knew what else- didn’t exactly help. Antony groaned and finally focused on a tile arabesque spinning crazily on the floor; not only was he worn out but (the ultimate horror) also bored stiff (well, not so stiff lately…but he didn’t want to go there). Though he was unaware, the Queen flashed a knowing half-smile of rueful disdain; Antony wasn’t her first lover and she had seen it all before. ‘Darling…’ the purr now boasted a jagged edge and Antony braved the pain in his head and looked up, ‘Yes, my love?’ ‘Next week is your birthday, my sweet, and I want to give you something special.’ Clearly intrigued, the besotted Roman perked up- he loved to receive presents! Visions of jewels the size of pigeon’s eggs flashing deep color in the Egyptian sun danced before his eyes. The Queen continued, ‘Tsk, tsk…I can read your mind, my greedy boy…’ Antony flinched; knowing from experience that this was true- the witchy women of the East sometimes gave him the creeps… ‘And, really, I do understand…’ She’s lying through those beautiful teeth!! ‘…so, for your birthday, my big strong studly Roman, I’ve gotten you a different, darker set of jewels…but they still glisten when fondled in the sun!’ She laughed and her laughter was like no other; it drove the bull-necked Roman wild- part ground glass, part silver temple bells; he could never sort the knife-edged danger in her dancing tones from the seductive play and wondered when the piper would demand payment for such folly.

Cleopatra handed him the lit butt of a cannabis joint, still laughing, but only after taking a deep drag herself. ‘You know…’ she almost seemed to be changing the subject but Antony knew better, ‘I’ve seen how you look at my collection of Nubian slaves.’ Knitted black eyebrows sported pretended perplexity, ‘My male Nubians, dear…tsk, tsk, tsk …’ The unspoken mockery stung him and he toyed with a gruff denial...but what of that offer of a birthday present; a different sort of jewel…darker…that still glistened when fondled in the sun? ’ Consumed with suddenly flaring lust and a healthy dose of curiosity…and I KNOW she hasn’t changed the subject (!!!!) …Antony kept his big mouth studiously shut and waited for the Queen’s next gambit. He wasn’t disappointed, though pride demanded a shrug and a lascivious wink at what both he and Cleopatra knew was anything but a joke. She languidly waved a soft hand banded with pure gold from the tropical heartland and a velvet curtain pulled silently open.

‘Do you like them, darling?’ Antony liked them very much, though he tried valiantly not to show it. The group of naked Nubian bucks shuffled in their chains, submissive and confused at the same time in an erotic combination that had the full attention of the Roman’s stiffening cock in an instant. Each was clad in a scanty loincloth deemed modestly desirable in the dry heat of this accursed land and Antony noted ruefully that these were in the Queen’s colors- cruel bitch!! Even so, the cut of the cloth was such that a second (well, let’s be honest- really a FIRST…) glance revealed thick dark cocks and the flopping swing of pendulous black balls, slapping muscular thighs just under cover of the blue and gold. Antony surrendered at last and cracked a smile of purest sincerity- a different kind of jewel that, nevertheless, still glistens when fondled under the sun … His fingers itched to see if it was true, though he really had no doubts at all. ‘Th…thank you, my Queen!’ His stammer was all she desired and, with another languid wave of her hand, the loincloths were stripped from the helpless black men as each was prodded to stand for inspection, flexing massed muscles shining slickly with aromatic oil.

The cat was out of the bag and Antony found, to his amazement, that he really didn’t care- cats were worshipped as gods in this bizarre place anyway, and who was ever able to keep a god in any sort of bag? He laughed a cannabis besotted snort and reached for the nearest Nubian’s testicles, giving them a firm tweak. The man bleated sensibly at the sudden and excruciating pain and the whole court burst into applause led by the beaming Queen. ‘My lady…’ Antony wiped a spool of lust driven drool from the corner of his mouth, ‘truly these are worthy jewels- another vicious tweak to the writhing slaves balls - and are as much as any…er…man could desire. I have no doubt that they do, indeed, glisten when toyed with under the bright Egyptian sun.’

Antony’s eyes darted from the Queen’s knowing nod to the long-nosed Vizier who’s (if the poor man had known as Antony did from after hours pillow talk) days at court were numbered anyway, catching him in the act of a shameless grope as another scandalized Nubian’s ripe balls were similarly fondled… ‘Guards!!! Arrest that man!’ The Vizier pulled a face that would curdle camel’s milk and retracted a hand wrapped around the hot shaft of a Nubian’s cock as fast as lightening…to no avail. Pinned between burly guards he cringed from Antony’s blazing anger, looking instead to the Queen for mercy. Cleopatra yawned and, turning her back on the Vizier, ran a vermillion painted fingernail over the deep chest of another panting Nubian. ‘May I…?’ she murmured, and Antony laughed his approval even as he turned and faced the Vizier. ‘Guards- escort his erstwhile Excellency from these chambers and, guards!’ They turned in unison eager for the order which everyone, especially the terrified Vizier, knew must come. ‘See that this man loses what he so ungraciously tried to steal from me!’ ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!’ The Vizier’s pitiful shriek echoed through various precincts of the palace as he was hauled away, now clutching his own crotch, soon to meet his cruel fate.

‘Darling…’ Antony turned and smiled at the Queen. He knew that he was headed for destruction as fast as Ben Hur’s chariot took the turns…and didn’t really care. ‘Yes my love…what is it?’ Cleopatra’s violet eyes sparkled naughtily, daring him to the adventure that loomed as close as the tightly packed group of helpless Nubians- each more handsome than the other, naked and vulnerable in their clanking chains. ‘I have reserved a special courtyard, hedged with pomegranate and quite secluded.’ Antony’s pendulous uncut cock leapt with a strange kind of joy in the depths of his loincloth spun of the finest Egyptian cotton. ‘And????’ The pregnant question, wholly rhetorical, hung on the dry air like a lover’s taunt. ‘If I may, ahhhhh, share in your birthday bounty…’ she laughed again, ‘I will show you this place.’ ‘Oh yessssssssssssssssssss my Queen!’ His deep voice cracked like a school boy’s. She turned to the remaining guards, ‘Escort these chattels to the specified place and arrange them in creative display!’ Antony nearly shot a load into his already gummy loincloth at the dulcet tone of Cleopatra’s command. ‘My lord Mark Antony and I will be there shortly…’