📘 The Life of Giving (Part 4)

Nov 11, 2019

Days have gone by, maybe weeks even, and our sex drive wasn’t slowing down or even showing signs of slowing down in the future. I‘m still going regularly to church, but I don’t repent my sins. There is no sense to repent something that I don’t plan on stop doing, or if I don’t feel sorry about it at all. The entire point of view when it comes to sins and sinning seems pretty different nowadays. Probably because the stuff that‘s happening right now is, well, a big fucking sin.

It seems to me that this entire situation didn’t affect him at all. He seems so sure of himself and his religion acts as if what we do isn’t such a big sin in his religion as well. If not bigger from what I hear on the news. We function as awesome roommates, good friends that help each other. Just the other day he installed some shelves from IKEA on the wall. Needless to say, they were packed for 7 months, waiting for my dad to visit and install them, which didn’t happen. So now I have Samer, and he is handy. Hmmm, boy is he handy… He used to be a mechanical engineer when he lived and worked in Syria. Now, he is making home improvements at my place while I go to work. Me, on the other hand, I help him with administrative stuff, teach him some of my language, and a bit of German language as well because Germany is where he ultimately wants to end his journey as a refugee and start a new life.

Sex? Sex was like a part of us that had nothing to do with who we were when we weren’t horny. On one hand we had so much respect for each other, and when it came to sex the respect was gone (well, his respect for me). But for the weirdest reason, it all worked and I was happy, and I guess he was too.

And then came the letter from the government.

In just three days he was to appear on a hearing to state if he wants to stay in my country and seek asylum here, or, in case he doesn’t, he is free to go further up in the rest of EU. If that is the case, he is to leave my country in one week’s time. Quickly doing the math, it means we only have 10 days if he decides to leave. But of course he will decide to leave, he didn’t come to my country to start a life here and most certainly not with a gay guy. I‘ve told him the news, and he seemed really happy about it. I mean, I knew it wouldn’t last a lifetime, but am I really to blame for feeling truly wrecked by the fact that after ten days I might never see him again? Or the fact that he is happy about that? One thing I knew, and it was that like in Twilight, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. Just the problem was that he wasn’t in love with me. I never thought I’d be in this position in life. Boys used to go crazy about me, and I was always the one that wasn’t interested in them as much as they were for me. My head was going crazy, although I think I‘ve managed to play it cool as much as I could.

But my possessiveness didn’t explode until I‘ve woken up the next day only to find him preparing a celebratory breakfast for us.

Me: Jesus Christ what the fuck is this? Are you so fucking happy to leave? Was it so bad here? Look at yourself, throwing a mini fucking brunch party for two?! Do you know how sad that makes me?

Samer: what is wrong with you? Of course I‘m preparing something to treat ourselves. I went out after my morning prayer to buy some stuff that I know you like. We wanted this… You worked for this, if it wasn’t for you, who knows when and if my Syrian passport would ever get whitelisted. I thought you‘d be happy?

Me: happy for what exactly? That now when I finally have you here and now when I‘m finally ok with us being both best friends and me being your fucking Muslim suprematism cumdump bitch, you decide to leave without giving it even a thought first? It offends me. And I know you aren’t in love, but you and me, we aren’t the same, as you like to state every time you fuck me.

Samer: -nods his head and begins to get dressed to leave the apartment- This is exactly why you Europeans are being laughed at by everyone. You are so emotional, for you people everything is flowers and butterflies. I saw my family get killed by my neighbors! There, are you happy that I finally said this? And I can’t risk being stuck in this country that might just one day change its mind and send me back to this shit!!!

He slammed the doors behind him as he left the apartment. I had no idea where he went. But he was right, I accidentally did this to myself, so why am I angry at him? He wanted what he wanted, and now I know the reason behind it. And as much as my intentions were friendly and humane at the beginning, the truth is that my feelings have got the best of me. I still have good intentions, but I was possessive of him. If he wants to go, he should go. Shit, even I wanted to leave this fucking country someday.

After numerous messages and attempts to call him, I just stopped and realized that I should get the hint that he wants to be alone. All his stuff was here, and he has an appointment with the officials tomorrow where he needs to have me to translate for him. He will come back. I will get my shit straight and finish with what I started.

The evening came and so did he. Without any words he just went by me and went directly to bed for sleep. I’ve really messed this up.

Next morning when we got up, he barely said a few words to me. I prepared a small breakfast and we drove to the immigration office. When we stepped out of the car, I finally gathered some strength to say that I’m sorry. But to no response. I’ve hurt his pride.

Once in the office, the meeting has officially began. Samer talked about how he likes my country, how he was welcomed by me in my apartment (not the dirty welcome story in the apartment, thank God!) and added how he wants to apply for asylum in an other country, Germany. This part I barely managed to translate for the officials because I had been clinging to the smallest bit of hope that he might have changed his mind. The officials agreed of course, probably very happy to get the “Muslim scum” out of our country. But then he added something. He wants to apply for asylum in Germany, but from an Embassy, and while he waits for his request to get processed he would like to stay here, instead of sleeping in some detention center in Germany. I was thrilled. The officials said that it is possible, and that he can stay but that he needs to visit the offices every two weeks for a checkup. I was out of the roof happy. He did want to stay. And he did want to leave. But he prolonged it.

We’ve exited the offices and went to the staircase.

Me: friendly hug?

Samer: umm, get in here.

He dragged me into the men’s room, and with the wildest look in his eyes pressed me against the ugly ceramic wall in one of the booths. It was written on his face, very impudently, that he wants to have my pussy. To my surprise, he didn’t turn me away from him and even started kissing my neck. I was so turned on by his kisses. Even if it was on the neck, it is the first kiss I got from him. And it was so fierce. He was kinda both rough and gentle at the same time, gently touching my belly and chest, but also looking at me with the look of a wild a****l. I finally see his face and his eyes when he is horned up. Fuck he’s hot. I want his dick in me, I want him to fill me up with his cum. I fucking need him to. At this moment, I feel his hand deep in my pants and boxer shorts. He grabs my ass cheeks and continues further until he reaches my asshole and sticks his finger in it.

Samer: who’s hole is this?

Me: it’s yours.

Samer: -puts his mouth close to my ear and whispers out- Well in that case better drive home fast then, because I need to mark it with my cum again.

He pulls his finger out of my ass and gives me the sexiest smile that says it all… Gets just marches out of the booth without a care in the world, leaving me like a slut in my messy clothes and the booth doors wide open for the shocked guy washing his hands to see everything. I fucking died of the embarrassment, pulled up my pants and stormed out of the toilet. With a cigarette in his mouth and that James Dean look in his eyes, he waits for me with his back leaned against my car. Not a fucking care in the world.


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