Chapter Six - Out of the Frying Pan.


Samir was lying in the sleeping bag facing Amar; 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 truck driver, would be taking them to a town in Turkey. Amar explained Samir would be in the cab, but he himself would have to hide on the truck.

He never told Samir why he was being taken there, or how dangerous it would be for himself. 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 if something went wrong, if he ended up 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 was 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 gave 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. It was a surprise when he felt the boy's arm move over his waist, grip his clothes, and tug him to move back and 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 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. When Amar 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 was very excited. It took every ounce of his will power to whisper, "We should sleep."

Samir let go of Amar's hand, moved back to face him, and his hands went to the top of Amar's jeans.

Samir’s eyes held Amar's. He licked his top lip with his tongue.
Amar was lost in his senses. Their passion was like a volcano, a heat that simmered in both boys.

Amar was overwhelmed by the force of his desire built up by the younger boy. He could not hold back the eruption nor control his emotions.

Spent, he lay back, sighed and exhaled. Then reached out to Samir and undid his jeans.

His hands found bare skin and a large erect penis. He grabbed the whole of the younger boy's dick and started to move his hand along it. In a very short time Amar felt the boy's whole body move with the force of his orgasm, but there was no ejaculation. He saw in Samir'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 groove 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.


Samir was struggling with his feeling for Amar. He had hated him. Now he wanted him. He had hit him. Then 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 Samir just wanted to be held.

He was scared.

He smiled to himself, feeling Amar next to him. He was excited and ignored Amar saying they should sleep. ‘How hard would that be?’ How could any teenage boy go to sleep with a hard on? He would need to have his hands tied.

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 remembered his older brother saying, 'Don't stop yet' - so he didn't.

Samir had never had anyone wank him before. His brother just wasn't interested once he had cum. When Amar turned his attention to his needs, 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 force of his orgasm. He fell asleep after, held in Amar's embrace.


Amar woke up with 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 the boy 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 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 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 boy got in the truck, he was relying on him. That night they said their 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 Killis, 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 been massacred recently. At Aziz, on the Syrian side of the frontier, 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 God to be merciful and keep him safe.

The truck 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 truck. 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 truck leave the camp and followed its 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 shoulders. They both had tears in their eyes.


Two or three times Amar almost lost his hold. The last time was the worst. They 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 truck, 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 stared 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. A weapon. A head.

He couldn't help it.

He lost control.

Warm liquid ran along his leg, soaked his underpants and dripped 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.