Vampires of Cairo: Vampires of the World

by Geoffrey Knight

  Yes, his adrenaline was racing.

  Yes, his head was spinning.

  But Ryan was here, naked.

  Here to protect him.

  To guide him.

  To love him.

  Nash didn’t care that the room was filled with strangers.

  He didn’t care that he and Ryan were now surrounded and outnumbered by naked, powerful, beautiful men.

  He didn’t care about anything but the blast of cum that was about to shoot from his shaft as Saabir sucked harder and harder on his stiff, aching cock.

  As the veins in Nash’s dick filled to bursting…

  As his balls ascended into his body…

  As his cries echoed through the chamber…

  Saabir suddenly pulled his head away from Nash’s cock and seized the base of his shaft in a tight, excruciating grip, forcing back the flood of cum that so desperately wanted to fill his mouth.

  “Fuck!” Nash grimaced, half in pain, half in frustration and fury at his halted orgasm.

  Saabir simply looked up at him and smiled, then shot a glance at Ramseth. “This one’s ready, master.”

  Ramseth pulled his mouth away from Ryan’s, leaving the model in a trance-like, closed-eyed sway, and smiled at Saabir who now stood, releasing Nash’s cock as the other six men wrapped their arms around Saabir’s shoulders and drew him backward.

  “You’ve done well,” Ramseth told him. “My lovers will show you my gratitude.”

  One by one the others sank upon the treasures on the ground, laying, kneeling, squatting. Like the tendrils of some mystical vine searching for something to climb or cling to, their arms waved and danced and reached upward, finding Saabir’s hands, thighs, stomach, hips, buttocks, cock. Gently they pulled him down to the ground, and began to envelop him.

  They rewarded him with their tongues and mouths, with their curious fingers, with their pleasuring hands that explored every inch of his body, parting his legs and stroking his hard, ripe cock.

  Nash couldn’t take his eyes off the display of unabashed male lust before him—until he felt Ryan’s lips touch his face.

  Nash’s eyelids drifted shut again, his mouth opened just a little, just enough to let in the hot, still air and let out the gentle moans of ecstasy, of anticipation, yet at the same time, relief. That feeling of—At last! Yes, at last!

  With kisses as tender as petals, Ryan’s lips tasted the skin and stubble that ran down Nash’s sturdy jaw. Gradually Ryan’s tongue pushed beyond those lips, and the kisses became more erotic. More powerful. More demanding of Nash’s lips, his flesh.

  Ryan gnawed on Nash’s chin, and grazed his teeth down his throat to the base of his neck then lower still, licking the muscles of his quickly rising and sinking chest, nibbling on his nipples, which were covered in gooseflesh despite the suffocating heat. At the same time, Nash’s hands found Ryan’s body. His trembling fingers slowly slid down Ryan’s torso, savoring every bump and ridge, every chiseled outline, every wet, sweaty dip. When he reached Ryan’s trim pubic hair, Nash guided his right hand down the length of Ryan’s throbbing cock with all the confidence he could muster. Meanwhile, his left hand departed Ryan’s beautiful body, and fetched his own cock into his fist.

  As Nash began stroking both of their dicks, Ryan lifted his head and, to Nash’s utter bliss, smiled approvingly. Their lips came together once more, sharing short, hungry breaths and twining tongues.

  Ramseth beamed. “A long time ago, I was a great hunter. The Pharaoh’s pride! Then one night I was seduced by a slave, a dark, devilish creature. He needed a man of my talents, my ability to hunt, to track prey, to take life. He took me in his embrace and he transformed me into something wonderful, and in turn I provided for him. I fed him…and myself…and others, so many others. But soon my father discovered what had happened—what was happening. One night in the pale glow of the crescent moon, he saw the blood on my hands, my lips, my tongue, and I was banished from his kingdom forever, forced to embrace my new fate, to become an eternal hunter of the night. I made a home for myself in this lair. Over the years I have gathered treasures beyond belief, as well as lovers.” He gestured to the others in the chamber, who were now feverishly kissing and caressing and fucking Saabir, offering up their lips, their mouths, their cocks, their asses in order to please him, to pay him for the work he had done.

  Ramseth turned back to Ryan and Nash, who were themselves caught in a deep, desire-filled kiss. Nash’s hand was on Ryan’s cock, squeezing harder and harder while moans of pleasure were reverberating in his throat, occasionally escaping the kiss.

  All Nash could hear was the pounding of blood in his temples and the hammering in his chest. He didn’t know which would explode first: his head, his heart, or his balls.

  Ramseth took both their chins in his fingertips and separated them, turning their heads to face him. He took Ryan’s jaw in the cup of his large palm, and said to him, “Now, I seek a new love. A new treasure. Tell me, would you like to stay young forever? Would you like to be beautiful…forever?”

  Ryan nodded, and a soft but emphatic “Yes,” fell from his lips.

  With Ryan’s chin in his hand, Ramseth pulled him close and stole the kiss that had belonged to Nash. As Ryan moved toward Ramseth, Nash panicked that he might also lose the cock that he held so dearly in his hand, that he had dreamed so long of holding.

  But after a single, almost coy kiss, Ramseth turned Ryan about, as though he didn’t want the young American’s tongue probing his mouth. As though he didn’t want to spoil any surprises.

  He turned Ryan back to face Nash, and while the two young Americans once again continued kissing, Ramseth approached Ryan from behind. He laid his hands on Ryan’s ass, one large palm pressed against each buttock, and with his tumescent cock bobbing and begging for satisfaction, Ramseth pressed the head of his penis—slick with his own shimmering pre-cum—against Ryan’s tight, pink ring, feeling the heat radiating from his satin-soft, searing hot ass.

  Ryan let out a pained, almost fearful cry as Ramseth rammed his way inside, plowing as fast and far as he could go. There was nothing gentle or tender or half-hearted about the act. It came with a grunt from Ramseth and a gasp from Nash, who winced when Ryan turned their kiss into a bite, breaking the skin on his lower lip. Both Ryan and Nash felt the hot, sweet gush of Nash’s blood swimming in both of their mouths, but despite the pain they each felt, the men continued kissing.

  Nash kept pulling on his own dick while tugging on Ryan’s at the same time. He glanced across the chamber at Saabir and the others, and his shaft grew even harder at the sight of them: men moaning and writhing, limbs entangled, muscles locked; fingers clawing the floor and clutching in pain and pleasure at sand and stone, and handfuls of glittering jewels; knees kneeling on piles of precious necklaces, elbows digging into diamonds, razor-sharp gems slicing the skin, blood turning everything into rubies.

  Nash felt his balls ascend once more. He squeezed hard on his own cock as well as Ryan’s, but his grip was slipping. Ryan pitched and rocked almost uncontrollably with the merciless pounding of Ramseth’s cock.

  The thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful than ever. So violent was the jolt and rhythm of Ryan’s rocking body, Nash had to pull himself out of the kiss for fear of biting Ryan’s tongue or lip.

  Ryan threw his head back in a moan of agony and ecstasy, and as he did so, Ramseth planted his face, his mouth, on Ryan’s neck. He mauled him with kisses, wild and wet, streams of saliva streaking down Ryan’s neck, shoulder, chest, mingling with his shiny sweat.

  “I’m coming,” Ryan panted desperately.

  At the same time, Ramseth increased the ferocity of his blows. Harder. Faster. Deeper. Causing Ryan to grimace, and cry out in pain and longing. Causing Nash to pump Ryan’s slender, straining cock with even more speed and strength. And causing Ryan’s back to finally arch, and his hips to throw themselves all the way forward as his balls exploded in a fountain of blazing hot cum that shot through the air
and showered both Nash and Ryan in sizzling white pearls.

  As Ramseth thrust his own hips forward as far as they would go, forcing Ryan all the way up onto his toes, a spasm shot through his own tensed, muscular body and the first cannon fire of cum blasted deep inside Ryan. As a second and third explosion racked Ryan’s body, Ramseth buried his face even deeper against the young model’s neck, mouth agape, flesh muffling his fearsome, lust-filled growl.

  With his heart pounding and body tingling from the precious pearls of Ryan’s cum dripping all over his chest and stomach, Nash could contain himself no longer. Still holding Ryan’s swollen, cum-slicked dick still in one hand, Nash pounded at his own cock as hard as he could, feeling his balls erupt, feeling the fire funnel up his shaft. Then, feeling nothing but freedom. Freedom and pure fulfilment as three, four, five streams of cum soared through the air and painted Ryan’s perfect body with his love. Just as Nash had dreamed of so many times before.

  White ribbons scribbled arabesque patterns over Ryan’s lower abdomen. The cum shot higher, shiny and pure and leaving a gleaming trail all the way to the top of Ryan’s six-pack stomach. And higher still it catapulted, all the way to the young man’s heaving chest.

  Only it didn’t stay white.

  As soon as it landed on Ryan’s skin, it turned pink, then changed color completely with the river of red that started to run down Ryan’s chest from his shoulder. No, not his shoulder; his neck.

  The expression on Nash’s face turned from sheer pleasure to sheer terror as he looked up and saw the bloody grin of Ramseth leering at him over Ryan’s shoulder, his eyes maniacal and bestial, his fangs long and pointed and dripping scarlet.

  Nash’s horrified eyes shot to Ryan, but his friend seemed to have no idea that his neck had just been torn open, and his body drenched in blood. Instead, he had a perplexed, almost annoyed look on his face. He was fingering his mouth, plucking at his teeth, as though there was something stuck in them. He winced when he pricked himself.

  That’s when Ramseth started laughing, a deep belly laugh that not only rocked his own body, but sent a wave through Ryan as well, since his cock was still firmly planted inside the young model.

  While confusion seemed to be spreading through Ryan like a fast-moving virus, Nash’s first response was to seize his friend by the forearm and pull him away from Ramseth as fast and as hard as he possibly could. His fingers locked around Ryan’s wrist, and he yanked him away. Ramseth roared angrily, and Ryan cried out in pain as his ass was forced to purge Ramseth’s mighty cock.

  But no sooner had Ryan fallen against Nash—dripping blood and cum and looking more and more bewildered by the second—did Ramseth’s claw of a hand seize Ryan by his bloody shoulder and hurl him across the chamber, plucked clean from Nash’s grip. His pitiful, mortal grip.

  Ryan landed among the piled treasure as the others in the room began to cower, knowing too well when to leave their master be. The cats too were slinking away, terrified of the tension in the room.

  Ramseth laughed once more. There was nothing standing between him and Nash, now. “Are you ready to live forever?” Ramseth asked, his voice deep, reverberating like a cat’s purr.

  That’s when Nash saw Ryan glance at a large gold plate propped against the treasure beside him. From where he stood Nash could see his own reflection in the plate—but there was no reflection of anyone else in the chamber.

  No Ramseth.

  No Saabir.

  No others.

  And no Ryan.

  “My face! Where’s my face? Where have I gone?” Ryan breathed in horror as he searched the plate for his own reflection. It was the one thing Ryan loved most. Now it was the one thing he would never set eyes on again.

  Across the chamber, Nash heard Ryan’s panicked cries, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Ramseth heaving in front of him, blood dripping off his fangs, and that brutal, scarlet smile. That’s when the monstrous vampire lunged.

  Nash stumbled backward in a clumsy, frantic attempt to escape, but all he managed to do was lose his footing, the jewels and treasures slippery under his scrambling feet. He fell onto his back with a thud that knocked the wind out of him, and before he could move—before he could so much as draw breath—Ramseth was upon him, pouncing on top of Nash with all his weight and demonic desire for blood.

  Nash struggled in vain. The vampire overpowering him easily, his strong body overwhelming and smothering the young American’s. Ramseth pushed his hips into Nash, pinning him painfully in place. He seized Nash’s punching, hitting, thrashing left arm and locked it against the ground, while his other giant hand clutched Nash by the jaw, and lifted his head toward those long, sharp, dripping fangs.

  With only one hand free, Nash tried to push the vampire off him, but it was no use. His fingers searched frantically for something, anything, to ward off the beast. His tremulous fingers trawled through the sand and jewels, and came across the heavy handle of a silver scepter.

  As Ramseth’s bloody, wide-open jaws sank deep into Nash’s neck, Nash gasped at the blast of heat and pain and bliss that ripped through him. Part of him wanted to give in to the shock and sheer erotic pleasure of the bite, but part of him still wanted to fight. Fight for his life.

  Desperately, his fingers locked onto the scepter.

  As Ramseth removed his fierce face from the wound he’d opened in Nash’s neck to look upon the terror of his victim, ready to lunge once more, Nash swung the scepter. The head of the staff smashed into Ramseth’s left shoulder, and exploded in a meteor shower of priceless jewels.

  Ramseth roared, rearing up on his knees in rage at Nash’s defiance and daring. With a sweep of his arm, Ramseth knocked the scepter out of Nash’s grip. Nash watched his weapon fly from his hand, then thought perhaps the moment was enough to give him a chance to scramble out from Ramseth’s reach. But as he tried to escape, the vampire’s hulking, vein-strapped arm seized him by the ankle, and began hauling him back toward him.

  Nash kicked frantically, but Ramseth would not let go. Nash’s fingers slid through the sand and treasure, making claw marks that trailed closer and closer to Ramseth. He tried to reach for the silver scepter once more, now lying at the foot of the mountain of gems and coins, but his struggling fingers missed by mere inches before he was dragged farther and farther away from the potential weapon.

  Nearer and nearer to his doom.

  And he had no doubt that after what he had done to Ryan, this would be his doom. He could see it in the vampire’s eyes. The desire to take had turned into a desire to tear Nash limb from limb.

  That’s when his groping fingers became ensnared in a necklace beaded with sharp, shimmering diamonds. Hastily, his shaking fingers clutched the necklace and enmeshed themselves within the tangled treasure, twisting it frantically around his knuckles.

  As Ramseth made one final jerk with his powerful arm and bared his fangs, ready to rip into the flesh of another victim, Nash gathered up his diamond-encrusted fist and threw the hardest, most determined punch of his life.

  In the moment before Ramseth’s teeth could connect with Nash’s flesh, Nash’s knuckles—wrapped in the necklace—connected directly with Ramseth’s mouth, and one of those long, bloody fangs snapped clean off. Like the shattered shard of a broken crimson crystal, the fang flew through the air and landed on a pile of blood-spattered jewels.

  Ramseth shrieked and reeled backward, clutching with both hands at his mouth, his lips, the gap where his precious fang had long been.

  That was Nash’s cue to run. Run like hell! But instead of charging for the exit, he ran straight for Ryan.

  He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him away from the gold plate he was still clinging to, but when he hauled Ryan up off the floor, he realized this man—this beautiful, charming man he’d dreamed of for so long—was no longer his friend at all.

  He was no longer even a man.

  As he looked at Ryan’s face, all Nash could see was the fire in his eyes and the blinding flash
of fangs—young and painfully new, itching to be used for the first time.

  Nash let go and reeled back fast.

  Saabir and the others were coming for him too now, ready to protect their master. Suddenly they all lunged, their hands clawing at Nash, their naked bodies scrambling on top of him.

  It was with a thunderous roar and a wave of his angry, clenched fists that Ramseth threw them off of Nash. But not by using any physical contact. With the furious gesture of his hands, Ramseth sent the others flying across the chamber in all directions. They landed roughly and painfully on the heaped treasure all around, before scrambling back into their standing coffins, the lids closing behind them.

  Ramseth turned his attention to Saabir and Ryan.

  With a wave of his left hand, he tossed Saabir screaming and howling into the air, catapulting him into the deep, open sarcophagus from which Ramseth had emerged. Then, with his right hand, he cast Ryan away, hurtling him across the chamber on the same trajectory as Saabir, into the golden tomb in the middle of the room.

  “No!” Nash screamed.

  But Ramseth turned on him, taking his throat in his hand—not his mouth—and lifting him off the ground. “Go!” the vampire spat with scorn, one fang bright red, the other gone. “You have disrespected my lair. Now you must find your own.”

  Nash struggled and squirmed in the man’s stranglehold, but not for long. Like a man disdainfully tossing a piece of rotten fruit into the trash, Ramseth tossed Nash toward the chamber exit. The young American hit the wall awkwardly, his back slamming against the stone and cracking as though his spine had just snapped in two. It mustn’t have, because he could still walk.

  Not just walk—run!

  Fuelled by fear and shock and panic, Nash Sommers bolted as fast as he could into the dark, narrow tunnel that led back to the world, dashing through closing doors, scraping his naked flesh against the rough stone walls as he smashed into corners blindly and bounced off them, getting closer and closer to the surface, struggling, stumbling, tripping. Trying desperately to get away from what he’d seen, what he’d survived, what he’d—