Anointed with Oils, She Becomes the Queen of Egypt and is Given the Jewel of the Nile

Travels restrictions force a husband to bring Egypt to his wife for a night of worship.

Egypt had been on their bucket list for years, and now, just when life had allowed Rhett and Wendy the chance to travel to their chosen destination, the global pandemic said no.

Married twenty years this fall, Rhett and Wendy remained entwined in passion and joy for each other.

Wendy understood what Rhett appreciated and what he never wanted to wane: her touch. That was it. It was that simple. When they shared space together or moved past one another, Rhett wanted to feel the brush of Wendy’s fingertips graze his neck. He wanted to feel the light landing of her hand on his shoulder, dancing across his back, patting his buttocks, and Rhett’s personal favorite was to have Wendy come behind him, lean her chest against his back and slide her slim hands into his front pants pockets.

Intimacy. It was all Rhett needed to feel from his wife. That even in trying circumstances, his value held and feeling her love mattered.

For Rhett, it was likewise simple to stay in tune with his wife’s desires. Wendy wanted to be engaged. She wanted to be listened to, her voice validated, and have a willing, open dialogue with her husband. No matter what strife shuffled into their lives, Wendy wanted her presence to matter.

She wanted communication because of the many things she found attractive about her husband, his voice soothed her. His tone carried rich, deep notes. It was melodic and wrapped around her like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer when he spoke. Rhett had a frequency in his voice that reverberated against someplace deep inside her that conveyed care, desire, and pleasure.

Communication. It was all Wendy required to know her husband stayed connected with her. That her spirit was cared for, and being heard mattered.

Wendy had kept close tabs on the pandemic restrictions as they increased in their threat to cancel their vacation plans to Egypt, and had remained optimistic that despite the doom and gloom forecast, they would still find a way to make the trip happen.

Rhett was more practical and had expected their carefully laid out plans to be scrapped. This was particularly irritating to Rhett because while Wendy had been planning their itinerary to take in the historic sites, Rhett had been scouring the internet for venues that could cater to his plans to have his wife treated like a Queen of Nile.

Rhett had found bathhouses and custom-designed massage treatments complete with robe-adorned attendants at the bedside fanning her barely covered form with palm fronds and others feeding her grapes, dates, and nuts at her beckoning. Rhett wanted his wife worshipped, revered, and pampered to excess.

Then, when his wife had been treated in the ways following that of an Egyptian Goddess, Rhett would deliver on making one of his wife’s deepest desired sexual fantasies come true — she wanted to be watched.

It would throw Wendy into lustful confessions as they fucked when Rhett fed into her fantasies of having the room full of spectators. Wendy wanted to know they were there, watching her breasts shake, watching her hips rock, and seeing her love glistening her juices up and down her husband’s cock.

Wendy had no interest in having others touch her or having her husband share her; she only wanted to perform. Wendy imagined figures behind sheer drapes, their forms silhouetted, moving, peeking, and coming closer until Wendy met their eyes with hers. She wanted to swim in the feeling of being wanted but prohibited. She wanted to feel the satisfaction of turning others on. Of making women slips fingers over breasts and wrists beneath panties. Of seeing men’s arousal, of watching their growing, hardening erections as she fucked. When she climaxed, Wendy wanted to be the beauty of a sunset that moved a woman to ache and to be the crash of a waterfall thundering against the rocks of a man’s release. Then, when she was done, Wendy wanted to feel like half of her was ocean and half of her was the sky.

Wendy stepped into the kitchen barefoot and barely dressed. An ivory negligee challenged physics as it kept her body covered while hardly touching her skin. Rhett leaned against the dining room wall, reading an article on his phone held in one hand, and a coffee in the other. A half-smile crept across his face — the scent of his wife had entered the kitchen before she did. Cucumber and mint. A smell that was barely there at all, yet strong enough to overtake his senses.

Fingertips skirted up the back of his neck and stroked his hair, and a hand drifted across his belly, “Good morning, love.” Wendy raised to her toes and kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Do you know where we should be at this moment?” Rhett responded.

“Yes,” sighed Wendy, “we should be staring into the eyes of Sphinx. I know. It’s awful. I so wanted that trip.”

Turning to face his wife, Rhett peered down at the silky white fabric that seemed to be held over her by her pert nipples alone.

“Well, we can’t enjoy standing in the sand, but we can still find Egypt here,” he told her.

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Wendy as she fixed herself a coffee.

Rhett followed her movements; his finger traced the contour of her spine over the negligee and drew a line over the small of her back. “In the bathroom, you’ll find a box. I’d like you dressed with what’s inside and prepared to enjoy Egypt as you were meant to. We leave for a special evening at six,” Rhett instructed.

Wendy turned and leaned against the counter. Eyeing her husband’s face carefully, she was intrigued.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Egypt, of course,” replied Rhett. Then, with his hand giving her hip a gentle but deliberate squeeze, he said, “I’m off to the office. Putting in a half-day then making sure Egypt is ready to receive her Queen.”

Wendy followed Rhett to the door. Amused and confused, she ushered him out of the house.

“Six o’clock, my Queen. Be prepared,” Rhett reaffirmed the schedule.

Shaking her auburn hair across her neck, Wendy asked, “Should I be concerned?”

Rhett shrugged, smiled, and left for work.

The upscale massage studio had been transformed into an oasis of luxury. Sheer golden sashes hung like long banners from the ceiling, and the hardwood floors lay buried beneath great swathes of fine sand. Palm trees stood in clay pots scattered throughout the space, and several toga-wearing attendants stood with ornate ceramic chalices of wine and water. In the center of the room sat a huge bed that was an overabundance of opulence. Surrounded by flaming torches, the room glowed with dancing golden light.

Led by minstrels playing the flute, sistrum, and a harp, Wendy, adorned with a crown of golden leaves and wrapped in a sheer sapphire robe, was carried in on a cushioned platform by muscular dark-skinned male attendants nude to their loincloths, their gleaming muscles coated with lotion.

Raised from the platform, Wendy was transferred to the bed without her toes ever touching the sand. She was instantly flanked by servants offering food and drink while others fanned her lithe body with palm fronds.

Rhett entered the room in the dress of a Pharaoh and sat at the bottom edge of the bed. Snapping his fingers, the male attendants jumped to the bed. Wendy sat, titillated, already feeling worshipped; her mouth offered no words as the servants unwrapped her glorious body from the thin fabric. Like a lone lily in a garden, Wendy’s beauty was revealed for all to behold.

The Pharaoh sighed a deep, wanting breath of wonder and lust. The Queen’s eyes danced in the firelight beneath his appreciative gaze.

The Pharaoh snapped his fingers again. The servant girls appeared at the side of the bed, carafes of warm scented oils at the ready. The attendants unfolded the Queen’s naked form across the bed. Warm oils lavishly spilled across her skin. Sets of strong hands eased fingers into her skin, and under the sounds of a lost civilization, the Queen gave away her worries and immersed herself in being worshipped. Every inch, bend, and fold of her body was massaged into a state of high euphoria. Wendy flowed with heat inside and out. She was ready to be seen.

With her smoldering eyes, the Queen looked at the servant girls and her Pharaoh. Then, with a commanding purr, she told them, “Servants. Prepare my King.”

Rhett stood still, his eyes fixated on his Queen as his body was stripped of his garments and his body rubbed with oils. His resplendent manhood was stroked and oiled by the lovely hands of the servant girls moving him to arousal. He gave no acknowledgment to their attention, his eyes taking in the glorious body of his Queen waiting; his focus was pure.

The Queen sat up, turning to face her King. The servants piled heaps of pillows behind her back. Wendy spaced her feet wide across the bed and leaned into them, giving the King, the servant girls, and the palm wafting attendants a gracious view of her beautiful, ripe fruit.

“Make him hard for me. Make him wet. Make his cock drip with anticipation,” the Queen commanded.

The two beautiful bronze-skinned women kneeled on either side of Rhett, sharing his cock between their mouths and hands; they made the Pharaoh ready in mere moments. The Pharaoh crawled onto the bed. The Queen, placing her perfumed hand on his forehead, pushed him onto his back. Then, turning her back to his face, she straddled his mouth and took control of his cock.

The oral play continued until neither the Queen nor her King could hold back much longer. Finally, Wendy moved free from Rhett’s attention and placed herself on her hands and knees. Her audience stood around her, enthralled with the performance, and Rhett pushed his cock deep inside her throbbing pussy.

Her breasts swayed and slapped together at the power and pace of his thrusts. The servants, in their minimal cloth coverings, could not hide their raging erections at the sight of Wendy being so deliciously and viciously fucked.

The female attendants had slipped their breasts free from the skimpy cloaks that covered them. Pinching, pulling, and squeezing their nipples, they writhed with need and lustful glares at this woman, relishing her fucking with such pure pleasure.

The Pharaoh snapped his fingers again and commanded, “Bring the Jewel of the Nile!”

Wendy pushed her tits into the deep softness of the bed and arched her hips up higher, pushing her sopping cunt hard down Rhett’s rigid shaft. Her eyes widened with delight as a servant arrived at her side with a jade heeled glass butt plug. A second servant then dipped it into a ramekin of oil until it dripped with lubrication. Offering it to the Pharaoh, Wendy gave almost no resistance as Rhett eased the bulbous plug into her tender, puckered asshole.

Moaning with the pleasure of the pressure and stretch, Wendy pushed back on Rhett’s cock and held her ass against his thighs, pushing, rubbing, grinding his cock deep inside as her asshole launched spasms of orgasms through her body. Rhett’s cock throbbed and drove deep inside her flowing pussy, her ass pulsed with a succulent ache, and her nipples pushed out harder, erect, tight, and firm.

Wendy watched as two of the three manservants feverishly stroked their cocks to explosions of white-hot lava that the female attendants dropped to collect across bare breasts and open mouths.

Overwhelmed at the debauchery, Wendy flipped herself out from Rhett’s position, and with a ferocity of passion, pushed him down, and mounted him. Bouncing, grinding, and pressing herself on his cock, she fucked. The jeweled plug in her ass slipped and dipped and pulsed. Her breasts arched to the ceiling, Wendy became the goddess of sex. Leaning into her lover’s chest, in her softest hush, she whispered, “You are my King. I am your throne, your crown, your kingdom.”

After diving her tongue to his, Wendy raised herself, her slim hands cupped and pressed her breasts together, and she commanded her servants once more.

“To me. Cum to me!” she called out in panting breaths and desperate tones.

It was beyond the boundaries of their imaginations, but it didn’t matter. The moment was alive. The energy was palpable. The need was overwhelming.

Climbing onto the bed astride her, the devotees to the Queen stood at attention, their rods rigid and ready. Wendy thrashed on Rhett, throwing her hair in a storm of ecstasy. She convulsed in orgasms as her offered breasts were adorned with streams of cum. The heat, the taboo, the raunchiness of everything drowned away judgment.

Only pleasure existed.

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