The Syrian Rent-Boy

It had been my intent to convince him that I wasn't the usual client. To press this home, most of the second hour was spent with us reclining on the bed in an embrace, Asu cuddled into my chest, and me prompting him to tell me all about himself and clucking in sympathy and giving him praise as I could in an effort for him to like me. But I needed him to love me, to be lost to me in the same why I was lost to Hal Hessler—or whoever that American spy really was.

I felt I was close to that near the end of the second hour, when he gently pushed me on my back, crowned my cock with a condom he applied deftly with his teeth, and rode me to another mutual ejaculation.

He asked me as I left if I'd be back, and I told him then that I thought I loved him and would be back the next night.

"How much?" I asked when I was back in the main tent with Sargon.

"You know the hourly rate," Sargon said.

"No, I mean how much to buy him and take him away?"

Sargon gave me a speculative look. "He is very valuable to me. He is my livelihood."

"I see openings to three other tents from here," I said. "I don't think he's your only livelihood. And I don't think you'll have a problem replacing him well enough to satisfy the men in this camp." I didn't want to reveal that I thought that Sargon and his whole stable would be dead within a few days.

"But he is my best. I would . . . no, I must say, I have hoped that there would be a way for Asu."

"A way?"

"He is like a son to me. I had hoped he could get out of the camp and into Lebanon."

I didn't know if he was just jacking up the price, but I asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Asu is here in hiding. The regime is looking for him. He was the catamite of a very important general before he escaped to here. He heard things he should not have heard, including that he was going to have to die for what he knew. So he escaped to here."

I felt the tumblers falling into place—both why, perhaps, that the Syrians were going to gas the camp, an attack on their own people—to be rid of Asu—and why Hal's people wanted him—to wring Syrian state secrets from him. "I can take him to safety. How much?"

I was at least a bit exhilarated the next day when I convinced one of the holdout families to leave with me. But I spent much of the day worrying about what I was going to do about Asu. I couldn't deny it. I was more than a little in love with him myself even after only two hours with him. I had paid an exorbitant amount for him—Hal obviously had known what I needed a big chuck of Syrian money for—and left it to Sargon to explain that he'd been sold and that it was in his best interests to leave with me.

Before I left for Sargon's tent, I called a clerk I trusted completely in the Beirut news office, thankful that cell reception carried to this border area. Then, as I moved through the bazaar toward Sargon's complex of tents, I gathered what was needed for the plan that I had hastily forged.

Asu greeted me with a broad smile on his face, tears in his eyes, and on his back with his thighs spread open and pillows under the small of his back. I nearly couldn't hold myself from firing off as I kept my eyes on him and stripped near the entrance. I reached for a pile of condoms.

"No need for that if you are clean," he called to me in a whispery voice. "Sargon is a doctor. He tests frequently. I am clean. I would like to feel you inside me."

I rushed the bed, barely making it there, between his thighs, my lips plastered to him, and my cock sliding inside him, with both of us moving our hips, when one, two, three strokes I had flooded his insides with my cum.

Asu's eyes went wide as our lips parted. "You really do want me. You really do love me."

"Yes, I really do want you and I really do love you," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion, because I knew it was true and now Asu knew it too. This was the zenith of his decision to make. If he told me he didn't want to go with me, I'd let him go and find some way of dealing with Hal and his CIA operations. But I would let him go inside Lebanon. I owed him that much.

"Sargon told me, but I couldn't be sure . . . not until you were willing to make love to me with no condoms."

"But you were willing to let me bareback you."

"Of course. I love you. And you are my savior."

I had never gone completely soft and felt myself hardening again.

"I must fuck you again. Now. I can't help myself. Hard and deep. Full possession."

"Yes, please. Do whatever you want with me. I'm yours."

No forced backup, as with Hal and me. An unconditional surrender.

"Give me full control," I commanded. And Asu went limp under me.

I raised up on my knees, between his thighs. His knees bent and his feet were flat on the surface of the bed. He let his torso, head, and arms dangle back toward the mattress, and panted and groaned and moaned softly as, my arms encasing his waist, I pounded, pounded, pounded his ass channel hard and deep, making him totally, fully mine. He gave himself to me completely, and I managed a nearly mutual ejaculation.

Laying there, him in my arms, as we cooled down in a postcoital reverie, I told him what must be done the next day and kissed away all fears and concerns he had.

"When must you leave tonight?" he asked.

"I have paid for you and I have paid for this tent for the night. I'm going to be inside you, fucking you, making you mine, all night." He moaned as I started once more doing exactly what I told him I was going to do. Asu never wavered in giving me anything I wanted and in whispering to me of his love and total surrender to me.

* * * *

Sargon did a double take the next morning after Asu had prepared himself and we were leaving, but he just smiled and nodded his head.

"Sargon," I asked. "Do you have the contacts to get word into the Syrian military."

"Of course, they are my best customers."

"Then, ask no questions, but get word through channels as quick and as high up the authority chain that you can that Asu died in the night. That he was knifed to death by a client. You can hint that the Hezbollah got him. And then, however you can manage it, it would be in your interests to get yourself and all your loved ones across the border before morning."

Sargon gave him a hard look, but then nodded his head in acknowledgment of what he was being told.

I didn't know if Asu was the only reason the Syrians would attack the camp with gas, but if so, perhaps I could help stave that off. It was worth a try.

We crossed into Lebanon late in the morning without trouble, the border guards just winking at us as we did so. Six complete families. Seventeen people. Hal had told me that he didn't expect them all to accept the offer, so this would be a good number. He would have been pleased if Asu Gemal had been one of the documented refugees to cross the border. But he wouldn't be pleased, because I would have to tell him that I had been too late. That Asu had been knifed and killed—the rumor being that the Hezbollah had found him and murdered him. The gossip coming out of the camp, spread by Sargon, would confirm that. But still Hal would not be pleased at all, I knew.

We had to walk through the bazaar in Zahlé en route to the Café Clemenceau. When I saw Sami, the clerk from my office, strolling in the bazaar, I signaled to him and pulled aside the "daughter" of one of the families.

"Listen to me, Asu," I said to the "daughter" I had created in the night. "See that man over there? His name is Sami. He's a friend of mine. I want you to drift away from our group and go in his direction. I have pointed you out to him. He will take you to Tyre."

"I can't go with you to Beirut?" Asu, dressed and documented as a beautiful young Syrian maiden, asked plaintively. "You told me—"

"Yes, we will be together for much of the time. Sami has arranged a flat for us in Tyre. I can't say more than that you are in as much danger here in Lebanon as in Syria. I will take care of you. I will take you to Canada when it is safe to do so. Just trust me."

As I watched Asu waft away and meet up with Sami, I looked around for CIA surveillance. I was sure there would be some even before we got the Café Clemenceau. But Sami made it obvious that he was tempting the young maiden away, showing her necklaces of gold from a vendor's booth and buying her one. I hoped and trusted that any surveillance would be seeing a young woman, a woman of little import to them—at least until it was too late to find Asu—being seduced away by a good-looking, smooth-talking Lebanese man.

We counted noses at the Café Clemenceau, Hal Hessler and I, as the families boarded the bus. Other men appeared from where they had been watching the group move from the border and through the bazaar, to help explain why the count was off, and Hal just shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't, after all, all that interested in saving refugees, certainly not young women. His operation had been to intercept a young man who had access to Syrian military plans and could be interrogated to pull those out of him. And that part of the plan had gone south when he'd received intell that told him Asu Gemal had been gotten to by the Hezbollah allies of the Syrian regime. He wasn't half surprised.

"You did well, John," he said, turning to me, obviously seeing no need for me to ever know what the real operation was. "Come back to the flat with me now."

"Yes," I replied.

"I'm going to fuck you silly."

"Yes." As much as I loved Asu—and I did love Asu—I would never give up what Hal had to offer me until I had to.

Two weeks later, I was happy to note that the refugee camp on the Syrian side of the border at Zahlé had not yet been gassed. I didn't care whether it was because Hal had received bad intell on that or whether my message about Asu had reached the upper levels of the Syrian military and they no longer felt such an attack was needed. I was just happy that it hadn't happened yet. It helped me accept the service that had been forced on me. I could assuage my guilt with the belief that many people's lives had been saved by my taking on the assignment.

And after two weeks I was settling into an acceptable pattern. Twice a week Hal fucked me silly in the Beirut flat and twice a week I made love to Asu in the Tyre flat. I would keep going back to Hal as long as he wanted me, knowing, though, that his wanting me rested on whether he could make operational use of me. I went to Asu because I couldn't stay away. I rested and did my job on the other three days. I don't think Hal ever was careful enough to check on the missing daughter. There certainly was no evidence he'd bothered to find out that the daughter of the family had been killed in the refugee camp.

Only one glitch arose—near the end of the second week after the Syria extraction—that caused me pause in gloating over having put one over on the CIA. We were on the bed in the Beirut flat. Hal was on his back, palming my pecs and thumbing my nipples, while I was spread-eagled on top of him, holding myself suspended over him, facing the ceiling, supported on my bent arms positioned on either side of his shoulders and on my bent-knees legs, feet planted on either side of his thighs. I was using the leverage of my feet to rise and fall on Hal's cock.

"The money, John. What happened to the Syrian money I gave you?"

"Oh," I answered between pants. Of course. The money. He'd given it to me to pay for Asu's freedom. He had known at the time that I would need it. I hadn't known that.

I gave a little cry as he gathered my body into his, pulling me down on top of him close, his legs lacing through my thighs to entrap my legs, his cock sinking deep inside me, one strong arm embracing my chest, the hand of the other one gripping my balls. He squeezed the balls and I whimpered.

"The money, John. Tell me about the money or I'll crush your nuts."

I teared up. He already was crushing my nuts.

"I'll . . . I'll give it all back to you, Hal."

He laughed and released my balls. "See, Mr. High and Mighty, not much difference between us, is there?"

"Sorry," I murmured. "Can't blame a guy for trying. I'll have it all back to you the next time we meet here."

"No, you can keep it," Hal answered in an offhand voice. "It's just money. It's worth it to know that you're no better than me."

He deftly turned us, putting me on my belly and him covering me from on top. "Present," he commanded, his fist grasping the back of my neck, holding my chest to the surface of the bed. I drew my knees up and raised my ass to him, giving a little cry as he thrust inside me and started to pump me hard.

Jehovah forgive me, but I loved this. And would keep coming back to it as long as Hal wanted me. But he'd get his money back. I had made a gaff there, but I didn't want Asu's life to have been paid for by the CIA anyway. I'd give him the money back.