Date: Sun, 6 Feb 2022 09:25:55 +0000 From: peter king Subject: My Name is Samir (adult-youth) This story is 100% fictional and any resemblance to anyone living is entirely coincidental. If you enjoy it, please consider donating to Nifty http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Feedback is welcome at pk9000x@gmail.com My Name is Samir by Peter King I was sailing -- my favourite activity! Out in the English channel, about 10 miles south of the Isle of Wight, a light breeze, flattish sea, sun shining, the boat just gliding silently across the surface. A perfect late summer day. In my sixties, I had recently retired and loved being able to go out on the water whenever the weather was right, rather than only when I could get away from work. I was sitting in the cockpit, just enjoying the moment. The autopilot was steering the boat so I could relax, enjoy the warmth of the sun and daydream. Every now and then I'd scan the horizon for any other boats but no one else was in sight. I nearly missed him -- I had a quick look around and caught a flash of colour a few hundred yards to the south. I wasn't expecting anything to be in the area -- the chart showed no buoys or other navigation markers so it couldn't be anything like that. I picked up the binoculars and looked at the spot where I'd seen the...whatever it was. At first I didn't spot it and then I saw a flash of bright orange, just showing on the surface of the sea. Sadly, there's a lot of rubbish in the sea and it's not unusual to see stuff floating on the water but this sparked my curiosity -- it was the same colour as some life jackets -- so I decided to go check it out. I started the engine, furled the genoa, disconnected the autopilot and took over the steering. I approached the object slowly, and as I got closer, I could see a brown ball surrounded by something orange. Nearer still and I realised it was a person's head being held just above the water by an orange lifejacket. I put the engine into neutral and went forward to the mast to quickly lower the mainsail. Then I slowly motored closer until the person was just a few feet downwind from the side of the boat. Into neutral again and we both floated side by side. There was no movement from the person in the water and I feared that I had found a dead body -- someone had fallen into the water and drowned or died of hypothermia. But I had to check. I lowered the boarding ladder into the water, climbed down and swam the few feet over to the casualty. It was a small brown head that I saw, eyes closed, mouth slightly open and I feared the worst. I swam closer and reached out and touched the person's cheek. Two dark eyes sprung open and stared at me. I almost swallowed a mouthful of seawater as I jerked my arm back. I hadn't expected them to be alive. I knew I had to get him/her out of the water quickly so I reached out again, grabbed the back of the lifejacket and swam back to the boat, pulling the casualty behind me. I reached the ladder and held on to it, standing on the bottom rung. It can be very difficult to lift a body, dead or alive, from the sea into a boat and I paused trying to think how I could do this. I couldn't clearly see the person's body, the upper torso being hidden by the lifejacket and the legs out of sight in the water. But the head was not very large so I thought I might be able to lift them with one arm, while using the other arm to help me climb the ladder. I reached around the person's body, clenched them tight against me and tried to take one step upwards. It was easier than I had expected -- the person was small and light and I was able to hold onto them and take them up the ladder with me. We climbed into the cockpit and I lowered the person onto the seat. Now that I could see them out of the water, I realised that it was a child. Having read up about hypothermia, I knew that it could kill someone even after they've been taken out of the water. It was urgent that I warm this child up so that he/she could survive. I undid the life jacket and took it off. The child just lay on the cockpit seat, barely moving. He/she was wearing a torn tee-shirt and a pair of dirty shorts. I thought of taking the child below decks but decided it was probably warmer out in the sunshine. I nipped into the cabin and grabbed a couple of towels and a warm blanket. Back in the cockpit, I stripped off the child's wet clothes and started rubbing their limbs and body with a towel. That is when I realised that this was actually a rather small and skinny teenage boy. Sex was the farthest thing from my mind but I couldn't help notice that he had a compact teenage cock with a small bush of hair just above. I got him to stand up and he just about managed it, leaning against my head as I kneeled in front of him and rubbed him dry, then carried on massaging his limbs to encourage circulation, After a few minutes, I wrapped him in the blanket and fetched a glass of water. He gulped it down. Wrapped in the blanket, sitting in the sunshine he leaned back and seemed to fall asleep. After about 10 minutes I offered him some more water and held the glass to his lips as he drank. Then he fell asleep again. He'd been shivering when I first brought him on board but that had reduced and he seemed to be warming up. Hopefully he would make it. I didn't know the legal situation but I was pretty sure that I ought to contact the coastguard or the police and let them know that I had retrieved someone mid-channel. How he had got there I wasn't sure -- I suspected that he had come from one of the small boats that were ferrying refugees across from France. If he had fallen off a 'legal' vessel, there would have been radio traffic asking ships and boats to keep a lookout for a person in the water. Britain is an unkind place at the moment for refugees and asylum seekers. I knew that even a young boy would receive harsh treatment and would be sent back to France or elsewhere as soon as the government could arrange it. I don't blindly obey laws that I consider immoral so I thought through the options. Easiest -- call the authorities and hand him over. Second easiest -- sail to somewhere on the UK coast, run him ashore and let him wander off. He'd stand very little chance of finding any sanctuary and would probably end up in the hands of the police (or worse). Or I could take him ashore, give him shelter, contact some refugee charities and try to find a better outcome. And that's what I decided to do. The boy was asleep wrapped in the blanket and I picked him up and carried him to my bed in the cabin. He didn't stir. Back in the cockpit, I raised the sails and set course for home. It was mid-afternoon so I knew I'd arrive after dark -- easy then to take the boy ashore unseen. We docked just after 9pm -- the boy had slept the whole time. I woke him up, offered him some more water and a small snack then gave him his clothes and indicated he should get dressed. 'I'm Peter, what's your name?" I said In accented school-boy English he replied 'My name is Samir'. I told him to come with me and we stepped ashore. He could just about walk so, with some help from me, we walked along the pontoon, out through the marina gate and over to the car park. He slept during the drive home and I half carried him indoors, undressed him and put him to bed in the spare room wearing one of my tee-shirts. I ate a light supper and also went to bed. Around midnight, I was awoken by cries from Samir's room and I leapt out of bed to see what was the matter. He was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down his cheeks and great sobs racking his body. I sat down next to him and hugged him and he gradually calmed down and fell asleep. I lay down, holding him in my arms and we slept together. We woke just after 8. Samir was snuggled against me and his backside was pressed against my morning wood. It felt delightful! He rolled onto his back, yawned and stretched his arms above his head. The caused his tee shirt to lift and reveal his beautiful erect cock. I smiled at the thought that no matter what ordeals a teenaged boy suffers, his cock is always in full working order. I left him in bed, made myself some coffee and fetched a glass of water for Samir. 'Toilet?' he asked. I showed him the bathroom and, leaving the door open, he went in and had a pee, pushing down his still erect penis to aim into the bowl. Once he had finished, following his example, I walked to the toilet and also had a pee. Samir stood to the side and watched me. He was definitely curious! 'Do you want a shower?' I said, pointing towards the walk-in shower. Samir nodded. I went over and started the shower, checking it was the right temperature. I stood back to find that Samir was standing naked behind me. He seemed completely unself-conscious about his body. He was very skinny, his light brown skin stretched tightly over his bones. He walked under the shower spray and just stood there, enjoying the sensation of the warm water running all over his body. I passed him the shower gel and he washed himself quickly then exited the shower. I had a large towel ready and I wrapped it around him. He stood looking at me and then he nodded queringly towards the shower. I thought 'why not?'. I took off my tee-shirt and boxer shorts and naked I walked into the shower. Samir watched me. I took my time, soaping myself all over. I couldn't help it -- having a teenage boy watching me naked in the shower made my cock spring to life and I saw that Samir was eyeing it with a fascinated look on his face. I'm not particularly large but I have a nice shapely cock and it stood out proudly as I soaped and then rinsed myself. After the shower, Samir watched as I put on clean clothes. He was still wrapped in the towel. His clothes from yesterday were torn and dirty. 'Stay here' I said and Samir nodded. Slipping on some shoes I left the house and popped round to the nearby supermarket. I wasn't sure what sized clothes to get -- I guessed he must be at least 13 or 14 but so small! I bought underwear, socks, shorts, shirts and sneakers for ages 10 and 12. Back at home I showed him my purchases and he dropped the towel on the floor, took the size 10 underpants and tried them on. They fitted him, just, but were clearly not designed for someone as developed as he was and his cock was barely contained. He took them off and tried the size 12. They were too loose at the waist so back to the smaller ones. The sized 12 shorts and shirt hung loose but looked fine. He looked very pleased with his new attire and thanked me. We had some breakfast -- well I had some and Samir ate about twice as much. Then I asked him 'Samir, where are you from?' 'Afghanistan' he replied. 'Why were you alone in the sea?' He hesitated, looking down and then shyly up at me 'I fell from boat'. 'Were you trying to get to England?'. He nodded. 'Why didn't the other people in the boat help you?' Samir blushed and looked at his feet. 'Tell me' I said. 'They not like me' he replied. 'Why?' 'I sleep in the boat next to other boy and in sleep I cuddle him, his father shout at me and push me into the sea'. 'Where are your parents?' 'They dead' he replied. 'How old are you?' '14'. 'Where did you learn English?' 'In school in Kabul and also in camp in France' he replied. What to do? I have in my house a 14 year old parentless boy, who is certainly curious and perhaps gay, and who, if I tell anyone about him, is likely to be arrested and shipped back where he came from. I dismissed my original idea of contacting refugee charities. They would remove him from my house and put him into a children's home or into a foster home. The immigration authorities would have to be notified and Samir would become yet another illegal immigrant to be got rid of as soon as possible. I've been gay for most of my adult life. Where I was brought up, being gay didn't exist or, if it did, it was considered a mental disease. So as I grew up, I thought that I had to like girls. That lasted into my early 20s when I realised that what really turned me on was the thought of someone with a penis. And slim teenage boys with their smooth skin, small patches of hair and ever ready cocks turned me on the most. Was I thinking about Samir's future out of consideration for him or out of lust? Probably a combination of the two. I was new to the area, having moved down to the coast when I retired, so no one local knew whether I had any family. It would sound entirely plausible if I told people that Samir was my grandson, come to stay with me because his mother had died. That would explain his presence but could I look after him? So the plan developed. I would teach Samir English -- to speak, read and write so that he could pass for someone who had grown up here. I would need a birth certificate to enrol him in school but UK birth certificates are quite simple paper documents and I was sure I could create a fake one on my computer. I had sat Samir in front of the TV while I was thinking things through and he'd been channel surfing. I went into the living room, sat down next to him and asked him to turn off the TV. 'Samir, you know that the government does not like refugees coming to England and if I tell them about you, you will probably be sent back to France'. Samir nodded. 'But if you live here with me and we didn't tell anyone that you were a refugee, then you might be able to stay'. Samir nodded again. 'If we do that, we would have to pretend that you are my grandson and you would have to go to school' Samir thought for a moment as he worked out what I had told him. Then he gave me a broad smile and nodded vehemently. 'I would like that very much' he said. 'It won't all be fun' I added. 'You will have to improve your English and learn some other subjects before you could start school. It would mean working very hard'. Another broad smile. 'I can help you improve your English and perhaps mathematics and we'd have to find ways of teaching you the other things that English boys of your age would know'. Samir was nodding as I spoke. He turned towards me and gave me a long hug, resting his head against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. The rest of the day passed quickly. We went into town and bought Samir some more clothes and shoes, and we popped into a bookstore and found some English exercise books that could help Samir with his language. I asked him what language he spoke in Afghanistan and he said Pashtu. There wasn't a Pashtu-English dictionary in stock but I was sure I could find one online. Back at home I left Samir to try on his new clothes and to look at his books while I tidied the kitchen and went online to look for a dictionary. Then I ordered a pizza delivery and went to see how Samir was getting on. He was concentrated on reading the exercise book -- so much so that he didn't hear me come in. I watched him turning the pages, leafing backwards and forwards as he read and absorbed the information. He had put on some of the new clothes -- a shirt and shorts and he had tucked his skinny brown legs up on the sofa. I felt a rush of warmth in my heart -- he was so beautiful and so vulnerable. The doorbell rang and I fetched the pizza and called Samir into the kitchen to eat. Afterwards we sat side by side on the sofa and watched television together until it was time for bed. We went upstairs and I unpacked the pyjamas that I had bought him. As I did so, Samir stripped naked and stood by my side. I gave him the pyjamas and tucked him into bed. This time it was 11pm when Samir's nightmares woke him up. I jumped out of bed and went into his room. He was sitting up sobbing. I climbed into his bed and held him tightly against me while he calmed down and fell asleep. The following morning I woke up to find Samir snuggled against me, his bum pressed against my rigid cock. He was still asleep and we just lay there for a while. Eventually he stirred and pressed himself harder against me. One of my arms was under his shoulders and the other was resting outside the covers but on his hip. He reach out and moved my hand so it was under the covers, directly on his hip, I could feel his warm bony pelvis in the palm of my hand. We lay there a while longer and then he adjusted his position so he was lying more on his back and he placed my hand on his stomach, just above his pelvis. He continued to press against my cock which, if anything, had grown stiffer. Then he pushed my hand down so that it rested over his cock and I could feel him hard through the material of his pyjamas. He paused, seemingly waiting to see how I responded. I didn't say anything and just left my hand where he had placed it. After a couple of minutes he started rubbing himself against the palm of my hand. It didn't take long and I heard him breathe deeply and shudder as he came. We lay there a bit longer and then I asked him if he wanted to get up. He nodded and we got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. As I started the shower, he took off his pyjamas and stood watching me, some stickiness evident on his still slightly erect cock. He walked into the shower and then turned and said 'you come too'. I undressed and walked in. We stood under the running water and then I starting to wash him, spreading shower gel all over and rubbing his limbs and body. I could see that he had fully stiffened and with my soapy hand I rubbed his cock all over, along and under, feeling his ball sack. My other hand was washing his buttocks, sliding over and between them. I could feel his hole with my fingers and he adjusted his position so I could reach it more easily. It didn't take long for him to erupt and I felt his cock pulsing in my hand as he shot his second load of the morning. He looked up at me and smiled. He reached over and squeezed a dollop of shower gel onto his hands and started to wash me. He started with my arms, chest and stomach, then down my legs, carefully skirting round my semi-erect cock and balls. Then up the back of my legs, over my bum and up my back. I had to lean against the shower wall -- I was so aroused as to be unsteady on my feet. Then I felt his hand on my cock, just holding it lightly. His other hand cupped my balls. He started to run one hand up and down my cock, gently squeezing my balls with the other. He was looking at my face to see my reaction. I was in a state of bliss and I think it must have showed on my face as he continued to play with my ever-so-hard cock. I started to breathe more deeply as I felt the build-up inside me and I whimpered slightly. He carried on stroking until I couldn't hold it in any longer. I started to shoot -- my cum landing on Samir's chest as he stood in front of me. After I regained my breath, we smiled at each other and I re-soaped Samir's chest and washed him clean. We exited the shower together, watching each other as we dried ourselves. We then walked naked to our respective bedrooms and put on some clothes. We met again at the top of the stairs still smiling. Breakfast followed, and then Samir got his English book out and started reading it again. This pattern continued for the next month. We gave up going to bed separately and started each night as we meant to continue. Samir still woke up sometimes with nightmares but these became less frequent over time. Each day started with a shared shower and I was pleasantly surprised that I could still be aroused and cum on a daily basis. No surprise at all that Samir could. Often in the evening as we got into bed and snuggled together, he would guide my hand to his cock and I would wank him until he came into his pyjamas -- fortunately I had bought several pairs as they needed almost daily washing. Samir's English improved by leaps and bounds -- as well as improving his vocabulary and grammar, he also listened very carefully to me and to the TV and his accent became less and less foreign. He was clearly a very bright boy. We also studied some maths, geography and history. He was well educated - he had gone to a very good school in Kabul, his parents had both been professionals -- his father a professor at the university, his mother a doctor. Tragically, those were some of the people targeted by the Taliban when they took over and his parents had been early casualties. An uncle had managed to shelter Samir and smuggle him across the border to Iran from where he made the journey all the way to France. On the net I found images of modern UK birth certificates and I created a credible copy of one on my computer. I entered Samir's name and date of birth, showing place of birth as a northern town that had a sizeable Afghani community. It wouldn't enable him to get a passport but would serve for school registration. We agreed a back story that his mother was my daughter and she had married an Afghani man but they had separated and the father had returned to Afghanistan. Samir had been home educated until his mother became ill with cancer and died. Whereupon Samir had come to live with his grandfather. This would provide an explanation for him living with me and also for the gaps that formal schooling would reveal in his education. I explained that we could not let anyone know about our sleeping and having sex together. I told Samir that, if that happened, I would go to prison and Samir would be identified as a refugee and would probably be deported. Fortunately Samir was wise beyond his years and he promised me that he would never say anything to anyone. I also explained that gay people were not always accepted in Britain and that Samir should be very wary of revealing his homosexual preferences. After his experience crossing the channel, he had no difficulty understanding this. Another month passed and I decided that Samir's English was good enough to pass for someone who had been born in England. His knowledge of the UK and the western world -- culture, history and geography -- had also developed. He even learned the national anthem. So in early December I contacted the local high school and explained that Samir had recently lost his mother and moved to live with me and needed to recommence his education. I also explained about the home-schooling which was the reason he didn't have any formal grades and hadn't followed the normal school curriculum. The school had no reason to disbelieve me and they invited Samir to attend for tests to decide what grade he should enter. Happily they decided he would be OK with children of his own age and it was agreed he would start school at the beginning of the spring term in January. Our sex life also developed over this period. One evening as we lay in bed together, Samir asked 'What is a blow job?'. He had heard the term on TV. So I explained it to him and he wanted to try it out. I told him to lie on his back and kneeling over him, I pulled down his pyjama bottoms. He lifted his bum to allow me to pull them off and he lay there with his erect cock pulsing invitingly. I bent down and licked the tip of his cock. He drew in his breath at the new sensation. I ran my tongue up and down his stiffness, then I licked his ball sack, which was already tight against his body. Some more licking and then I took his cock into my mouth and sucked him in until my mouth fully enclosed his youthful length. Then slowly up and down, his breathing getting faster and his body squirming in response to the new sensations. It never takes long with a 14 year old and he soon erupted into my mouth and I savoured his cum, swallowing it all. He lay there panting and I sat looking at him as his cock gradually softened. 'That was amazing -- thank you' he said. 'You're very welcome -- I enjoyed it too' I told him. I lay down beside him and he snuggled, still half naked, against me. We held each other and fell asleep. The following night, as we climbed the stairs on our way to bed, Samir asked if he could give me a blow job. 'But you're much bigger than me' he said, 'I'm not sure I can take you into my mouth'. 'You don't have to take all of my cock' I replied, 'You can start by just taking the head and then see how it goes'. We went into the bedroom and we both undressed. I lay on my back on the bed and spread my legs. Samir kneeled between my legs and looked down at my half hard erection. He then leaned forward and licked the very tip. My cock fully stiffened in response. One of his hands cupped my balls, lightly stroking them. Then he put his lips to the head of my cock and allowed it to slide between them into his mouth. I lay there taking in the image of a naked 14 year old boy, kneeling before me and sucking me. I could see that he was also fully erect. He experimented taking more of my cock into his mouth and running his lips up and down its length. He took most of it into his mouth but then he gagged slightly and pulled back a bit. I stroked the top of his head in appreciation. He carried on for a couple of minutes but then released me and sat back. I smiled and thanked him. I took my slick cock into my hand and quickly brought myself to climax, Samir kneeling there and watching my cum shoot over my chest. I took some of my cum in my hand and reached over to hold and stroke Samir's cock. Cum is a marvellous lubricant and it didn't take long for him to erupt over me, our seed intermingling on my chest. I then reached up and pulled Samir down to lie on top of me and I hugged him tightly and we kissed passionately. Happy and sticky, we fell asleep. We didn't have anal sex. We talked about it -- Samir had found websites & pictures online that sparked his curiosity but I was worried that I was too big and would hurt Samir too much. We agreed that it would be something for the future. He did, however, like me to touch and rub his hole and to lightly press inwards with my finger and it was something I did to him in the shower and when he was wanking in bed. These last couple of months I hadn't been able to go sailing. We had gone down to the boat a couple of times -- first time to clean up and tidy the boat -- it had been left a bit of a mess when I first took Samir home. The second time we just went to check all was well. Samir seemed to be fine being on the boat -- his last boating experience had not put him off. We didn't take the boat out to sea -- apart from anything else it was too cold and windy. I'm a fair weather sailor -- I have been out in a gale and I and the boat can cope with it but it's not fun. I told Samir I would teach him to sail when the weather improved in the spring. When I was a teenager, I used to wank several times a day. I particularly liked to wank in new places. Samir seemed to have the same inclination and if we went into a new building or visited a town he hadn't been to before, he would frequently seek out a toilet and disappear for five minutes to relieve himself. Sometimes, if we were standing at a public urinal together I would watch as he stroked himself to climax. The second time we went to the boat, as soon as we got into the cabin, he pulled down his trousers, pulled off his shirt and lay down naked on the bed. His cock, stiff as ever, beckoned me and I bent over him and licked it. He lay there with his arms behind his head, inviting me to rub his tummy and chest, and to stroke his legs as I licked and kissed and sucked his erection. He soon shot his juice into my mouth and I made a show of savouring its taste before swallowing it. Then he got up, came over to me and undid my trousers, sliding them down my legs and then doing the same to my boxer shorts. As I stood there, he kneeled before me and took my cock into his mouth and proceeded to return the compliment. I quickly grew hard and after a couple of minutes of tonguing, sucking and licking, I erupted in Samir's mouth. He tried to keep it all in his mouth but some escaped his lips and ran down to his chin. I reached down and pulled him up so he was standing in front of me and I kissed him on the lips and licked his chin clean, then I kissed him again and pressed my tongue into his mouth. We kissed and shared the taste of my cum. The big day arrived -- Samir's first day of school. The previous evening he'd clung to me and needed lots of cuddles and affection. He was very anxious -- there were so many things he had to keep secret -- that he was a refugee, that I wasn't really his grandfather, that he hadn't grown up in England, that he was gay, that we had sex together. He knew that if any of these were revealed, his new life would come to an end. In the morning we walked to the school and I escorted him to the school office. The school secretary welcomed him and said that she would take him to his new class. I gave him a grandfatherly hug and wished him good luck. Then I left him and walked home. I was as nervous as he had been, although I had tried hard not to show it. Could Samir pull it off? Would he be accepted by his teachers and his peers? The day passed slowly. I couldn't concentrate on anything and I kept expecting someone to knock at the door and tell me that our plan had failed, Samir would be deported and I would be arrested. Just before 3pm I decided I couldn't bear it any longer and I walked to the school, standing a short distance from the front gates. At 3 I heard the sound of a bell and shortly thereafter a torrent of young people started to flow out of the school. I watched for Samir and after about 5 minutes I saw him walk out together with another boy and a girl -- both a bit taller than Samir, but the three of them were talking and smiling and gesturing animatedly. It seemed that Samir had made some friends. He didn't see me standing there and he walked along the road, still talking with his schoolmates. I followed, watching them. As they neared the junction where Samir would need to turn to go home, they stopped but carried on talking. After a few minutes, I walked over and said 'Hello Samir, I see you've made some new friends'. Samir turned towards me ' Hi Gramps' he said. 'This is David and this is Shanti -- they are in my class'. I greeted the two young people and thanked them for making Samir welcome. They smiled and said they were happy to. We said our goodbyes and Samir and I walked home and got indoors 'How was it?' I asked. 'It was brilliant!' he replied. 'Most of the people in my class were really friendly and nice to me, and so were the teachers. We did English, maths, geography, history and science and I could understand pretty much everything. I probably know more maths and geography than most of the other kids, English was a bit more difficult and I found science hard too. But it was much better than I feared'. I hugged Samir tightly and congratulated him and told him how proud I was of him. His emotions got the better of him and he burst into tears. And so did I. We stood in the hallway, hugging each other, sobbing with relief and happiness.