A Royal Pain in the Butt

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.
Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication or use or reproduction of this story, or parts of this story, is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Introduction: 

The nerdy 24-year-old Max Prinz got introduced to an Arabian Prince at a tall ship sailing event in his hometown. The buff and powerful man was exactly what Max secretly had dreamed of. So when the chance for some hot and steamy sex arose, Max took it with both hands. In turn, Prince Jamal Farra III took the nerd Max and revamped him into a leather-wearing butch little stud.

Blown away and swept off his feet.

The 24-year-old Max was not one of your typical college guys. He was what most would consider a geek or a nerd. Not at all bad looking. But then you would have to look past his ridiculous outfits, center-parted brown hair, and the ludicrously thick-rimmed glasses. The young man just did not seem to care about his own looks. He simply was not that obsessed with his appearance, unlike all the other hunky twinks around him. While his friends loved their college years for all the sexual pleasures that presented themselves on campus. Max sooner focused on his three academic majors and several other courses. 

Sure, despite his nerdy looks, Max had plenty of friends. He was very favorable with everyone, even with the biggest bullies at school. But he liked to keep himself to himself. Max was sort of the fifth wheel at most dorm parties. Present but as invisible as he could make himself. Many of his college friends thought the dude was still a virgin. They were constantly trying to get him laid. But the 24-year-old surely was not. Max had a little secret. Well, a big one if you ask me. The dude was gay, but he had kept that well hidden from everyone and their mother. Heck, even his own well-to-do parents did not know that little Diederik Julius Maximiliaan Prinz had a thing for buff and powerful man. 

The only one Max had ever told this was his back-door neighbor. And that happened quite by accident. The Chief of Police once caught Max with his pants around his ankles. He found the boy in a back room of a gay bar that he also poked around in. The then 19-year-old Max Prinz was getting it hard from every angle. Stunned, Max's back-door neighbor watched for a moment before secretly joining in the gang fuck. The blindfolded Max got his ass ravaged in a sling by every man at the underground bar. 

Just like Max, the Chief of Police had kept his alternate sexual feelings well hidden. Although Peter-Jan Hendriks was happily married, he loved to walk on the wild side every now and then. From an early age, he had let Max mow the lawns around his villa. Striking up a friendship with the oddly cheerful, hard-working boy. Max had become sort of a surrogate son to Peter-Jan. Twice his age, Peter-Jan enjoyed being around Max. The dude considered the Chief of Police to be an uber-fit DILF. But Max knew he could not risk getting caught with him. Not that this kept the men apart when Max was home from college. When Peter-Jan had a rough week at work, Max always knew how to help his back-door neighbor relax. Resulting in some quick, hot, and steamy oral sex in Peter-Jan's man-cave.

Max was in his final year at university. Ace-ing all his studies, like a good little privileged nerd. Peter-Jan Hendriks had signed the dude up for a major event in their hometown. Every five years or so, a lot of tall ships and other sailboats gathered in their harbor-town. An event that had grown into the country's hottest place to be. Leaving the local police force woefully short-handed to keep the hundreds of thousands of visitors in check. Max knew the town like no other. He spoke his languages and had worked for the organization a few times before. Making him ideally suited to help out in crowd control. Max had even roped in some college friends to help out. 

The Chief had made sure that Max was made head of a large group of volunteers. Making Max privileged to all kinds of sensitive information. Chief Hendriks had taken Max Prinz to the police station many times before. The other cops had gotten to known the nerdy young man quite well. Max had even interned there a few times to help with admin and IT work.

Yet, somehow Max had noticed an odd change in behavior from Peter-Jan Hendriks. As usual, Max was present at many an event briefing with Chief Hendriks. However, during this event, the Chief wasn't as forthcoming with info as the college dude had come to expect of him. Max just ignored it. Thinking his neighbor was merely too busy. The event promised to be even bigger than usual. So everyone seemed a little on edge. 

Max tried to attend the morning briefing at the police headquarters during the second day of the event. Normally he just stood at the back of the situation room to listen in. But not this day. There had been an exciting buzz going around the place. After a while, Max and some other big-shots from the event organizers were finally allowed to join the police briefing. Chief Hendriks got a dirty look from Max when he spotted his young buddy at the back of the room. Max was only paying half attention to the rest of the police briefing. But he did notice the addition of military and ministerial security personnel. Those folks had not been there at other events.

At the end of the briefing, Peter tried to stop Max and explain why they could not join for the first part of the police briefing. The dude was already late. He had to give his own volunteers their early morning instructions. So Max gave the Chief the cold shoulder. He did not need an apology from him. Max was smart as a whip and could add one and one together. He had sort of figured out what must have been going on. 

Max's bedroom overlooked the harbor's marina. Just before dusk the previous evening, Max had watched the last of the sailboats join the event. It was a large and beautiful luxury sail-training ship with personnel from a distant country. The only thing that struck Max as odd was the place where the ship moored. At the very end of the large jetty protected by two large naval frigates. A place where the public or even the organizers were not allowed to go without a special pass.

Max already spotted many people trying to rush to the harbor from the city center on his walk back from the police station. He quickly dawned his high-viz vest, his badge, and the organization's cap. Starting his day by directing the traffic at the pedestrian crossing. Using his walkie-talkie, asking for help to keep traffic on the right track. Max had never seen it this busy this early in the day. Apart from the tourists, many sailors on their first shore leave streamed out of the city center as well. A lot of the sailors were piss-drunk and stoned out of their gourds already. They must have had a great first night out, thought Max smiling at the men. 

Max had stopped the pedestrians from crossing the busy street between the harbor and the city center. Letting the backed-up traffic pass. Suddenly Max got rudely shoved aside. It was a bear of a man. Dressed in a tough leather jacket, scruffy old jeans, and the most pointy cowboy boots Max had ever seen. His rough bearded appearance, his impudent demeanor, and foul mouth gave Max pause. The college dude grabbed the back of the thick leather coat and roughly yanked him back onto the sidewalk. And not a moment too soon. If Max would have let the Arabic-looking stud go, then the man would have been flattened by oncoming traffic. The truck driver pushed his horn through the steering wheel as he screeched to a hold. Narrowly avoiding the collision.

This sobered up the butch stud immediately. But the two friends he was with pulled Max away from the buff 30-something-year old. They looked just as odd as their leather-clad Arabic mate. It seemed as if the two muscular guerrillas could have stepped straight out of a Hollywood movie. Dressed and acting like secret agents. Complete with sunglasses, black bomber jackets, and ear-pieces. The foul-mouthed Arabic stud gave Max an ear-full once his two friends had roughly worked Max to the ground.

"What the FUCK!..." screamed the Arabic stud in his accent-free queen's English. "Get the fuck away from me, little man... Who the hell are you supposed to be, anyway..."

"I am your guardian angel, Sir!... If I had not held you back, you would have been road-kill!... Next time look both ways before crossing the street, Sir!... Your Welcome, Sir!" said Max Prinz calmly but loudly and very firm. He got up and stopped the traffic. Giving the dazed pedestrians time to walk around the 3 Arabic-looking men to the harbor.

Max called to the three, "Are you going to cross the street or not, Sirs?..."

"Don't be so shamefully insolent, boy... Don't you know who this is?..." one of the guerrillas called back.

"No, Sir, I don't... To me, everyone is the same, regardless of where you are from or how you look... So if you want to cross... Then now would be a good time... Sirs..." answered Max Prinz back. Making the last of the crowd murmur approvingly. But Max did know who the buff and powerful Arabic man was. He knew all too well. And despite that, he felt he handled the whole ordeal adequately.

Max Prinz blew his whistle. Signaling to the pedestrians to clear the road. The three Arabic-looking butch men grumbled as they swiftly walked past Max. Ever friendly, Max just nodded cheerfully at the men and went about his business. A cop with two volunteers from Max's group took over so he could finally brief his team about the day's events. 

All through the day, Max had the odd feeling he was being watched. He kept spotting the buff stud where ever Max went about his business. All throughout the early morning. At lunch, on the terras of a local restaurant. At the historic market on the harbor. At one of the many stage performances. Everywhere Max went to direct his team, there was the great-looking Arabic stud. Followed closely by his two guardian guerrillas. Even if the elegantly butch man did not know he was near Max, then Max could spot him in the crowd. Observing his carefree and a little nasty behavior. As if the stud owned the place.

The nasty early morning incident had sobered up the stud considerably. Making the Arabic man look even tougher and more manly than Max had witnessed. Were the Arabic stud kept looking alert and fresh, his two mates dropped the ball a few times. Losing sight of their protégé in the crowds. The second day of the event turned out to be the busiest it had ever been. Nearly a million visitors graced the dynamic tall ship event that day. And that included a lot of fake news reporters. They had all come for a hot scoop. The buzz was that there was royalty amongst the many sailors.

The crowds were thick, and it made spotting any foreign dignitary very hard. Max, however, suspected who it must have been. So he kept an extra eye out for him. Not neglecting his volunteer team or his other duties. He sat at the hospitality desk out in front of the event HQ. Multitasking his way through the latter part of the afternoon. Handing out directions to the many foreign visitors and sailors. Max enjoyed this work the most. He could finally sit down and practice one of his 8 foreign languages. Apart from English, he spoke most of the European languages. As well as some Russian, Japanese, and Arabic.

Peter-Jan Hendriks spotted Max at the hospitality desk. He tapped Max surreptitiously on his shoulder. Gesturing to him that he wanted a quick word inside. They watched over the bustling crowd from behind the second-floor window of the event headquarters. It took a while before the Chief spoke to Max. Something was clearly bothering him.

"Hey, Max... How's your day been so far?... I've heard about your incident this morning... Are you okay?" asked the Chief fatherly once they were out of earshot of everyone else. "Sorry about this morning's briefing, Max... We have a little issue... Maybe you can get your team to help quietly with this one... There is an Arabic Prince amongst the crowds... And the media is going crazy trying to find him... But we seem to have lost track of him."

"So I've heard, Sir... Look, there he is now!... The guy in the black leather jacket at your 11 o'clock." Said Max calmly. Nodding his head toward the stud. "Good looking fellow too... But a little too rough if you ask me..." said Max, a little impressed by the stud. "Between you and me, I would not mind going for a ride on that Arabic bronco... He's been stalking me all day... He was the one I rescued this morning... Chief... Upclose he's gorgeous," whispered Max under his breath.

"Gosh, Max... You really are too clever for your own good... But don't go starting an international incident, boy..." replied the Chief putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"I would not dream of it... Well, I can dream tonight... Now I just have to think of Misses Hendriks..." winked Max a little meanly at Peter-Jan Hendriks.

"Ha... Careful now, boy!... Anyway, even if he is part of the club... He looks like he's a pain in the butt," smirked the Chief nastily at his young gay friend.

"I'll keep an eye on him... Maybe invite him to dinner or something... I can practice my Arabic with him," suggested Max seriously.

"Make sure you include his two bodyguards in your plans... Boy, be careful!..." said the Chief of Police worriedly.

"Kinky, a foursome!... Aren't I always careful, Sir?" laughed Max. Out of the second-floor window, he had spotted two camera teams nearing the Prince's position. So without properly ending the conversation, Max rushed downstairs and out of the HQ. Quickly maneuvering toward the two bodyguards. "atabaeani min fadlik... al'amir hunak..." whispered Max in his best Arabic to the stunned man. Pointing to his security badge and gesturing to the location where the Prince stood, sampling some local delights.

"Sir... it's time to head back onboard... The media is on to you!... You got the Chief of Police all worried," whispered Max Prinz to the Arabic Prince.

Angrily the Arabic man grabbed Max and pushed him aside. At the same time, spotting the two camera teams nearing his location.

"Shit... Okay then..." sighed the Arabic man.

"Follow me... Let me get you out of this crowd... I live nearby... Maybe we can grab a bite to eat or a drink," suggested Max to the three men. They followed Max around the back of HQ and along a narrow alleyway out of the harbor. Not speaking until Max had let them over the sea wall and into the villa suburb where Max lived. 

"Where are we going, boy?" asked the Prince, a little worried.

"A little less attitude would be appreciated, Sir... My name is Diederik Julius Maximilliaan Prinz... But you may call me Max, Sir... We are going to my parent's place it is much closer than the 'Almiraj', Sir... And it has a lot fewer news media buzzing around, Sir..." replied Max friendly. "In a couple of hours, most visitors will go to dinner, and the crowds will thin out... Then I can get you back on board safely, Sir," told Max to the buff man. He called HQ via his walkie-talkie that he would be going home for a few hours to grab something to eat.

"Can we grab something to eat too, Sire?..." asked one of the bodyguards of the Prince. 

"There is a nice fast-food place up here... I live at number 75... Just up the street..." suggested Max, and the Arabic stud agreed to that suggestion. Dropping the bodyguards off on the terras of the local cafeteria restaurant. Max handed them his phone number and walked with the gorgeously buff guy to his parent's villa. "Here we are, Sir... Welcome to Casa Prinz... My parents are not at home this weekend... So you're quite safe here."

Well, being safe was relative. And certainly not something the Arabic stud had in mind. As soon as Max closed the back door behind him, the stud grabbed him. Turning Max around, he pressed him to the kitchen wall. Kicking his legs meanly apart. Slamming an open hand right onto the college dude's package. "sanumaris aljins 'ayuha ghyr almwmn!... thlatht 'ashhur fi albahr... muakharatuk li alan!" said the rude man threateningly in Arabic, but with a very dirty grin. Expecting Max not to understand a word of it. But boy, was he wrong about that. He had told Max he was going to get fucked. The stud had been at sea for 3 months and had not fucked someone during that time.

"Okay... I love to give my ass to you, Sir... Just drop the tough guy attitude... No need to... I am gay... Why don't we go to my room?... So I can suck that 3 months load off... Hmmm... I have never been with a tough stud like you, though... Hi, my name is Max... What do I call you?... Ummm... Sire was it?" Placing both his hands around the back of the Prince's neck. Gazing lovingly into his eyes. Feeling his own cock grow hard under the continued groping of the Arabic stud.

"Shit!... You speak Arabic?" said the Prince, dumbfounded.

"Hendriks for Max Prinz... Are you still on standby?... Over," came the voice of the Chief over the walkie-talkie.

"Engaging in hostile negotiations, Sir... Be back in a couple of hours... Over," replied Max as he grabbed the Prince by the hand. Guiding him upstairs to his bedroom.

"Remember what I told you, boy!... Over," warned Peter-Jan Hendriks.

"Sure... Seems we are on the same wavelength, though... Service with a smile!... Over and Out," said Max as he pushed the Arabic Prince onto his bed. Dropping between his knees and releasing the trapped 9-inches of Arabic man meat that was rearing to go.

The Prince sighed profoundly as Max went down on him. In no time, Max had the 9-inch wild stallion tamed, and up to full steam. Feeling the Prince's hands ruffling up Max's hair in delight. In fact, the Prince used his fingers to comb Max's hair. Measuring its length and admiring the lanky brown bush. The Prince was nearly bold, apart from his thick beard. He was trying to take off his leather jacket once the Arabic stud had pulled Max's nerdy vest, bowtie, and shirt off.

"Leave the leather jacket and boots on, Sire... I like tough men."

"You do?... Oh, fuck!... You suck so nice!... Are all Dutch boys this horny?... I am Prince Byran Jamal Ahdan Farra, the third... But... Oh, fuck slow down, Maxi!... But you may call me Jamal!... Oh... Arghhh... Yeah, suck that cock, boy... Do you really want me to fuck you?"

"Nice to suck you too, Sire... Ummm... I mean... Nice to meet you too... Depends on how much time we have, Jamal... I wouldn't mind going a few rounds on that desert trouser snake of yours... It's been a while for me... So go slow at first."

"Take all the time you need, boy... Max, I will do whatever you like... I'll make you part of my harem if you let me fuck you... I'll dress you in leather and make you scream in pleasure as I breed your ass full... Shit... Man, your mouth feels so nice... Yeah... Suck my balls... I like that!"

The Prince pulled Max up and dropped him onto the bed. Unzipping Max's dress pants and looking bemused at the now naked college dude.

"What?" asked Max, a little annoyed.

"Dude... Undressed, you look hot, man!... Those clothes don't do you justice... You're very fit and muscular, Max... We need to get you some contacts and a different wardrobe... You'll be the envy of any man that will have you!... But now your ass is mine!"

"sahib alsumui almalakii... Slide that Arabian stallion cock inside my ass, Jamal... I want it!... But go slow... Here is some lube if you want it," said Max as he lay on his back with his legs pulled up. Jamal took off his cowboy boots and dropped his jeans. "Nice pair of boots, man... Makes you look real tough... Just don't hurt me, please," asked Max. Looking a little worried at the stiffness of the 9-inches that were about to skewer his ass.

"Your Arabic is very good, boy... And don't worry... Your highness is about to fuck you good... Sounds like you really have a thing for leather... Don't you have any of your own, nerd?" laughed the Prince.

"No, Sir... Not my style... I would walk around college with a raging hard-on all day if I did... But you look cool in them."

"Ha... True... Not my normal style either... But it helped me to blend in today... I hate the three-piece suits that I normally have to wear... Anyway... this is just an act... My father thinks I am a softy... He does not know his son, the Prince, is gay... But I can help you if you want... We have a great hairdresser onboard... With some color and a new style, some contacts, and new clothes that will accentuate your muscular body... You would really be too hot to handle," said the Prince while he smeared some lube into Max's butt. "Your ass is going to hurt tomorrow, boy!..." laughed the Prince as he slid inch by inch inside the hot and willing hole.

"FUCK... Ai... Ouch... Go slow, man... They said you were a pain in the butt... Geez... Fuck, that thing is so big... Come here... Lay on top of me and kiss me, Jamal... Let me get used to that Arabian rattlesnake for a bit," said Max as he pulled Jamal over him by the collar of the leather jacket. "Oh... Yeah... Much better!... Make love to me... Ride my ass open... hi hi ... your beard tickles... You need a trim too."

Slowly but surely, Jamal got what he had hoped for. A nice hot hole to ravage. Max loved every inch of his Arabic friend. And Jamal was indeed a tough wild stallion. He wasn't kidding. Max's ass started to hurt but in a good way. Just before Jamal came, he asked in Arabic, "Where do you want it?"

Max answered back, "fi 'aemaqi."

"Really... You want me to breed you?..." asked Jamal in disbelieve. 

"Dude... Do you need a written invitation?... Fuck me full already!"

Well, the Prince did not need an invitation. He pounded the crap out of Max. Dumping his 3 months pent-up load deep into the boy. It took him a long time after the climax before Jamal was able to think again. Let alone speak or move. This was one of the nicer fuck-buddies he had ever had the pleasure of. In fact, Jamal wasn't done. Slowly he started gyrating his hips again. Pumping his massive load of man-juice deeper into Max's aching ass.

After another half an hour, Max said, "I think we should get cleaned up, Jamal... I need to get you and your men back to the ship, Sire... This was nice, though... Rough... but nice!"

"Fuck yeah, it was... I am hungry too... I could eat an ass..." laughed Jamel.

"We can grab some fries and a burger on the way back..."

The two princes walked back to the cafeteria, where the bodyguards just finished a three-course meal. Jamal had given Max the leather jacket to wear. And had ruffled up the boy's hair to a completely new look. Rather than the horn-rimmed glasses, Max wore his coolest pair of sunglasses instead. The combination made him look as cool as he felt. It had been a while since Max felt this butch. Actually, Max knew exactly when that had been. He was 19 at the time and had the greatest sex in the dirtiest place he knew. Being fucked by his back-door neighbor. Five years ago. But this was much nicer. The tough leather jacket gave him that little something extra. 

The four-man walked back to the harbor. Grinning from ear to ear. With a belly full of food and an ass full of... Well, you get the picture.

Max got introduced around on the 'Almiraj'. He had some tea and chatted with the crew. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw rather than heard the Prince instructing the crew members - Gesturing in the direction of Max. The college dude got a full tour of the royal yacht. Prince Farra III took a few photos with Max as a reminder of their time together. After a successful evening, Max said his goodbyes. Handing the leather jacket back to the Prince.

"Keep it, Maximilliaan... I think you can make better use of it than I could... Us princes always need to look their best."

Max left the ship a little stunned and bow-legged. But proud as a peacock. He bumped into Chief Hendriks on the way home. "Evening, Sir..."

"Hey, Max... How did the negotiations go?..." laughed Peter-Jan naughtily.

"He became a little hostile... Nothing I could not handle... I had a lovely evening, though... But I think I will have to skip tomorrow's early briefing..." sighed Max, pleased.

"Hahaha... I bet you had a lovely evening... You glow!... That jacket looks cool on you, Max."

"Ha... that's what the Prince said... I guess he's right..." Winked Max.

The next few days went by in a flash. Max got called to the royal yacht a couple of times to translate. But the Prince never seemed as affectionate toward Max as the first time they met. Understandable, thought Max. Seeing as he helped to relieve the tension already, and the Prince wasn't openly gay either. 

On the concluding day of the tall ship event, Max got called one last time to the 'Almiraj'. The ship's hairdresser wanted to see him. Max got a makeover. Restyling his hair, glasses, and clothes. Suddenly the nerdy twink looked as cool as Jamal had predicted. Max was a propper stud. Dressed in a cool biker jacket, Jeans, and the pointiest cowboy boots the stud had ever worn.

On his way back home, he spotted Prince Farra III, the Mayor, and the Chief of Police outside the event HQ. Jamal walked over to the young man and gave him a bro-hug.

"See... You can look cool... Nerd!... Thanks for everything... Here is my card... Let's keep in touch, Max... We princes need to stick together!... Write to me... I hope I wasn't too much of a royal pain in the butt."

< The End >

Thank you for reading this story. 
Please, give it a Like or a Comment if you are so inclined.
That is always much appreciated! ;-)

Or send me your story ideas via email if you want. I can try to write up something if you like.

(C) StrykerJ: May 2021