Refugee Part One - Exodus
by William King
Out of the Frying Pan
Samir was lying facing Amar in the sleeping bag, he was listening to what the older boy was telling him.
Amar spoke quietly next to Samir's ear. An ear so delightful he wanted to lick it and nibble the earlobe. He told Samir that Ayberk, the lorry driver, would be taking them to a town in Turkey. Amar explained that Samir would be in the cab, but he himself would have to hide on the lorry.
He never told Samir why he was being taken there, or how dangerous it would be for him. Of course Samir was silent and asked no questions. He just kept looking into Amar's eyes.
The boy had melted Amar's heart. He did make sure though, to tell Samir that if something went wrong, if he found himself alone, he would have to go on by himself. He mustn't look back. He had to do whatever he could to reach Europe. It's the only safe place.
Samir frowned when Amar told him he might have to go on alone. His arm slid gently down Amar's side, feeling his body beneath his clothes.
Amar smiled his best reassuring smile then turned over. He didn't want to stop looking into Samir's eyes, but he was hard and he was not going to do anything to Samir.
Samir was struggling with his feeling for Amar. He had hated him. Now he wanted him. He had hit him. Now lying there facing him, he could still see the faint red mark on his cheek. He'd pummelled him with his fists. The older boy had taken all his anger. Now he just wanted to be held.
Samir was scared.
His arm went over Amar's waist. He gripped his clothes and tugged him to move back to face him.
Amar was looking across the tent towards Mohmmad who was watching him with that nasty grin of his. Amar's hand rested on Samir's. He didn't want to look at Mohmmad, but he was frightened that Samir would feel his erection if he turned back.
The young boy was insistent, so Amar relented and rolled over to face him. Samir smiled. He intertwined his fingers with Amar's, then turned away from Amar and pulled him up behind him.
Amar knew the boy wanted to be held tight. 'What the hell,' he thought. Amar snuggled up and they spooned together. No way could Samir not notice he was hard. He was so fucking hard it was painful.
Samir squeezed his hand, moved both their hands down between his legs. He placed Amar's hand on his own solid cock. When Amar felt his hand on the young boy's erection, he went to pull back, as if it was an accident to find his hand there. But Samir wouldn't let go and firmly pushed Amar's hand into his groin.
Amar could not stop his cock from twitching. It took every inch of his will power to whisper, "We should sleep."
Samir knew how hard that would be. He smiled to himself. How could any teenage boy go to sleep with a hard on? He would need to have his hands tied.
He let go of Amar's hand, moved back to face him, and his hands went to the top of Amar's jeans. He undid the top button, then took hold of the zip, he pulled it down slowly.
With both hands gripping the top of Amar's jeans Samir tugged them down. As Amar raised his hips slightly, the jeans and underpants both slid off and rested down around his knees.
Amar did nothing, but he couldn't help reacting to being undressed. His cock was oozing and bouncing around.
Samir had never ejaculated, but he often rubbed his cock when it got hard. He had done it to his older brother. He knew how to do it.
He massaged the juice around Amar's cock head. He touched the underside of that raging knob and felt the juice come out as Amar's cock bounced in his hand. He did this just a little more, enjoying making Amar squirm with pleasure.
He spread the sticky liquid around and down Amar's dick. Samir gripped it in his hand and started to slowly pump it. He let his thumb come up the underside of the head and moved it to stimulate the gland.
Amar was breathing heavily, and as the speed of Samir's hand increased, he could not stop trying to thrust his cock at the boy, moving his hips.
Samir looked into the other boy's eyes. His hand was moving faster. Up, down. His eyes held Amar. Samir's tongue came out and he licked his top lip.
It was coming.
Amar was lost in his senses.
Samir felt the volcano build and shoot.
Into and through his hand. Samir didn't stop. He remembered his older brother saying, Don't stop yet. His actions were rewarded with a second spurt, then a much smaller final ejaculation and a sigh as Amar exhaled and lay back, spent.
Amar remained quiet a moment, then reached out to Samir and undid the younger boy's jeans. Pulled them down as Samir in turn raised his hips.
His hands found bare skin and a large erect penis. He lifted his hand and rubbed it in the accumulated semen on his belly, stopping it sliding onto the sleeping bag. He closed his sticky moist hand around Samir's cock.
He massaged the head, spread it down his cock. Then he simply played with the sensitive spot just underneath the head of Samir's dick. He was rewarded by Samir's dick bouncing up. He kept on doing this. Sometimes taking his hand away whilst Samir's cock bounced all by itself.
Samir had never had anyone wank him before. His brother just wasn't interested once he had cum.
Amar grabbed the whole of the younger boy's dick and started to move his hand along it. In a very short time Samir felt a sensation that started in his toes and coursed up his legs, through his balls and along his twitching penis. His whole body moved with the current as he had his orgasm, but there was no ejaculation.
Amar saw in the boy's face the moment of supreme pleasure.
He touched that face with his hand. Samir smiled and rolled back away from him. Amar snuggled into him. His newly hard cock resting in the crack of that lovely arse. The thought crossed his mind, but he said no to himself. That was enough.
He kissed the back of Samir's neck and they fell asleep together.
It wasn't the daylight that woke Amar, but the sounds coming from Mohmmad in the sleeping bag next to him. He turned away from Samir, slowly, not wanting to wake him. Mohmmad was vigorously pounding one of the boys who was lying underneath him.
The noise came from the other boy, but was muffled. It was not difficult to imagine what was happening. Amar felt sorry for the boy Mohmmad was fucking, at the same time he also felt remorse about having done exactly the same with Samir.
Things had changed between them since that first night, but even as he told himself he'd not been as rough as Mohmmad would have been, that did not ease his conscience.
Amar heard the boy's dull cry and Mohmmad's voice, "Arghhh..." he sighed as he exhaled. He had quite obviously climaxed.
A minute or so later Mohmmad rolled back on his side and looking over noticed Amar watching. "Morning," he grinned.
Amar did not reply.
"That was great," he continued, ignoring Amar's silence. "Don't you just love a tight young arse to start the day?"
There was nothing worse than seeing yourself reflected in another person when what you saw , you disliked. That Mohmmad saw Amar the same as himself, hit Amar hard. It was true and it would be difficult for Amar to make amends, but that only made him resolve to try harder.
Mohmmad was up now, the other boy was wiping his eyes. Tears perhaps, Amar wasn't sure. Others were waking up, the dawn light was brightening. Amar crawled out of the sleeping bag, still ignoring Mohmmad, he went to talk to Nazir and Anas.
He explained what Ayberk had told him, that he was leaving with Samir. Nazir looked concerned, both for his friend and for himself. All that Amar could say was that if it happened and the rest of them were shipped out, then they should try to get away.
They should not believe anything about being helped or anything like that. They had to escape. Better to be on the streets than in the hands of people that would use them. Nazir said he would spread the word to the other boys, but try not to scare them.
It was such a risk. He had explained everything to Samir, he asked Nazir to make sure the young boy got in the lorry, he was relying on him. That night they said there goodbyes. Would he ever see him or Anas again? He didn't know.
The risk was much greater than Amar knew. The border between Syria and Turkey had been closed for nearly a year to stop the unending numbers of refugees fleeing the war. The closest towns were overwhelmed, swamped with 130,000 refugees in Kilis, 300,000 in Gaziantep, and 290,000 in Sanliurfa. Promised aid from Europe hadn't materialised.
They still tried to cross illegally, families with women and children, but now the Turkish soldiers had orders to shoot to kill. An entire family of thirteen had all been massacred recently. At Aziz on the Syrian side of the frontier a 100,000 desperate people camped out in dire conditions praying they would open the gates.
Amar found his way in the dark to the parked truck and crawled underneath. He found a place where he could wedge himself behind the fuel tank, hanging down next to the front axle, holding on with his arms and legs. He tried it out. He hoped he had the strength to last the fifteen or so kilometres gripping the metal structure. That he wouldn't get shaken loose.
As the dawn light came up he got into position and waited. Thankfully it was not too long before the cabin doors opened and closed. The motor roared into life. 'This is it,' he thought and silently he asked that God be merciful and keep him safe.
The lorry jerked forward and Amar nearly lost his grip, but he recovered. The dust blew underneath the vehicle from the front wheels and then billowed around him with the odour of diesel. The truck moved a lot, bouncing on the dirt track. He really could see very little and was afraid to move. Occasionally a small stone hit him and stung like a needle, but he stayed rigid.
Nazir and Anas had made sure Samir was on the lorry. Nazir had promised Amar. He gave Samir a small bag to take with him. It contained a thin rolled-up blanket, two T-shirts, a jumper, and a Bic lighter. Not much for what might be a very long journey.
The two boys watched the lorry leave the camp and followed it's progress until only a tiny dust trail was visible. Then they turned away and walked back to the tent. Nazir had his arm around the other boy's shoulder. They both had tears in their eyes.
Two or three times Amar almost lost his hold. The last time was the worst. They'd hit a pot hole and Amar's right leg dropped, nearly touching the ground. It took every ounce of strength to lift it back up.
The truck came to a stop and shortly afterwards Amar heard voices. The cabin door opened. Amar turned his head. He could just glimpse the far side of the lorry, but nothing else. He held his breath. 'I hope they don't have dogs,' he thought.
He heard orders shouted to look inside the back of the truck, and he listened as someone climbed into the back. Amar was so scared he was trembling. "Sallanma! sallanma!" (hurry up, hurry up!) someone shouted. "Look underneath!"
Samir just starred out the dirty windscreen looking at the soldiers, the wire gate and guard hut. Barbed wire ran along the top of a tall fence and over the gates, coiled like a spring or giant centipede.
The air was hot and still. The red flag with white star and crescent moon, hung limp from the pole.
He paid no attention when the soldier climbed up to look in the cabin. He sat still like a statue. He wanted to cry.
He'd hated Amar. Then he'd loved him. Now he was gone.
The words the older boy had said played through his head, 'If something happens you have to go on alone.'
Amar saw the legs at the far side of the truck
A uniform. Weapon. His head.
He couldn't help it.
He lost control.
Warm liquid ran down his leg. The urine soaked his underpants and dripped from the bottom of his leg onto the dirt below.
The dark brown eyes of the uniformed soldier stared straight at him.
He was young.
For a moment nothing happened. Only his piss continued to fall in little drops onto the dirt. And his body continued to tremble.
Amar had lost all control. Fear gripped him so strongly he was frozen. But he held tight and didn't fall.
Those eyes, not much older than his, drilled into his skull.
Then the head was gone.
Amar heard shouting.
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