I live in an out-of-the-way part of North America – but it suits me. I make my home just outside Fruitvale in south-eastern British Columbia, close to the US. border. I'm lucky enough to have my own profitable business, a small paving company, started by my father years ago. My working life is kind od hectic at times. But my social life doesn't really exist.

There are few single gay guys in this area – or at least guys who are prepared to come out of the closet. I am limited to a few married guys, fuck-buddies, who like to play on the down-low. But at least the single women have stopped chasing after me. They have come to realize that I may be a desirable, eligible bachelor, but I am not interested in women!

So my life revolves around my business, my paving company. I mostly subcontract to the Provincial government, patching highways in summer, and clearing snow in winter. It's enough to keep myself and my crew of around twelve men busy most of the time. I own a small crusher and mix plant, four dump trucks, a water truck, two crew-cab pickups, a backhoe, a grader, a paving machine, and a large and a small roller – and my personal 4x4 pick-up, of course. When they are not in use, I am busy repairing them.

Needless to say, I don't get a lot of free time. When I do, I like to get away from it all and walk the backroads and trails in this area, out of reach of people urgently needing their driveway paved or their parking lot patched.

On this particular day, it was soon after the rather heavy snowfalls of a bad winter had melted away or washed away and the back roads were clear again. Keeping the main highways open for the Department of Highways had been a 24-hour-a day business for the previous couple of months. All four of my trucks were equipped with blades and the grader and backhoe were also pressed into service. Now, at the end of that busy time, I was almost exhausted, and was taking some time out.

Taking some time out, for me, meant walking alone on the many trails in the area. On this particular day, I had driven my 4x4 pick-up truck way into the woods and parked it, and now I was trudging along the dirt road which runs beside the Pend Orielle River, one of the few rivers which run north from the States into Canada. It comes across the border just below the Boundary Dam in Washington State, flows through British Columbia for about 20 kilometres, then joins the Columbia and heads south again, back to the USA.

I thought I heard a voice cry out and echo through the forest. I scanned the river below to see what I could find. I saw a glimpse of red. It was the bottom of an overturned canoe sailing away down the river, which was swollen by the thaw run-off. Then I saw arms waving frantically, bobbing along some distance behind the overturned canoe. It was obvious that the person was in difficulties. I ran along the track, which paralleled the river, discarding clothes as I went. I knew I could never reach the person fully-dressed. I easily outpaced the floating man, and stopped long enough to discard my boots and socks before diving into the water in just my jeans. Luckily, the waters were carrying the man almost into my arms. A few strokes and I managed to grasp him. Although he was struggling fiercely and almost pulling us both under, I was able to cold-cock him and wriggle him out of the heavy leather work-jacket which was threatening to pull him down. Underneath that he was wearing a heavy shirt and a wool thermal undershirt. These too, were dragging him down and making him too heavy for me to pull to shore. I stripped these from him as the current carried us both further down the river.

Even though I was able to grasp him around the neck and pull him toward shore, I was unable to make much progress until the river was joined by a smaller tributary creek. The incoming flow caused a small eddy, which spun us around and carried us closer to the shore. My feet found bottom and I managed to drag myself and my unconscious burden to the river bank.

It might have been Spring, but that didn't mean the waters were any warmer now than a few weeks before. My human cargo was almost blue as I dragged him ashore. I was afraid he had succumbed to hypothermia, but as I dragged him over the rocks on the river bank, he gasped and woke, sitting up, coughing and shivering.

I could see that he was a tall, slim, dark-skinned man, with dark hair and a short dark beard. I guessed he was probably from the eastern Mediterranean area.

"Where am I?" he asked. Even in those three words I could hear a thick accent, Greek or Turkish, I thought.

"On the river bank," I told him. "I pulled you out of the river. You were drowning. You're safe now."

"But where am I? United States or Canada?"

"Canada," I told him.

"Ah, Canada! Then I am safe!" he exclaimed.

Safe? I kinda wondered about this statement, but said nothing. I was too concerned about getting him warmed up. He seemed quite weak from his struggles in the water and the extreme cold. I told him to get out of his wet pants, but he seemed unable to do so. I started to undo his belt and unzip his fly, but he resisted. Did he think I was going to rape him or something?

But I persisted. I got his pants off. He was wearing no underwear. Even in the cold, his dick shrivelled by the icy water, he was very impressively hung. Limp and cold, his cock was still 6 inches long.

I managed to get him up off the rocks and half-carried him to some shelter under the bridge which carried the trail I had been walking across the tributary creek which had saved us.

I always carried an old water-proof tobacco can with me in my pants pocket when I walked the woods. In it I kept a whistle; a very small but very sharp folding knife; a length of leather lacing for a tourniquet; and a trusty old Zippo lighter.

There was quite an accumulation of dry wood and branches and grasses under the bridge and in no time I had a roaring fire going. The stranger and I both soaked up the warmth from the fire greedily.

As he became warmer, he also became somewhat agitated. "My coat!' he exclaimed. "Where is my coat?"

I told him that it was probably floating away down the river, that I had had to let it go to save us both. He became even more agitated and tried to stand, but he was too weak, and collapsed. I promised him I would see if I could find it if he would just stay here and warm up, but first I had to find my own clothes. Leaving him naked by the fire, I back-tracked up the rough track by the river

A couple of hundred yards along, I came across my jacket just where I had discarded it, then followed my previous path to the river, picking up my shirt, and at the river's edge, my socks and boots. Having dressed, I stayed along the water's edge, looking for my new friend's coat, but had seen no sign of it by the time I got back to the bridge, where he was still waiting, warming up. I told him to stay while I would look a little further down. I gave him my coat to help warm him, and carried on downstream.

I picked my way along the river bank. About another two hundred yards downstream, the river took a turn, and a spit ran out a short way into the river. A fallen tree had become caught up on this spit as it floated downstream, and there in its branches was my friend's coat. I didn't even have to go back into the icy water to retrieve it. I managed to snag it free with a broken branch and haul it ashore.

I made my way back to the stranger.

He had warmed up enough, and his pants had dried enough for him to partly re-dress himself — much to my disappointment. His cock had been worth looking at!

The man was overjoyed to see that I was carrying his sodden coat. He quickly took it and fumbled at the lining. His face carried an expression of great relief. "My papers," he informed me. "They are safe!" I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but told him to wait here by the fire once more while I went to get my 4x4, which was parked maybe a mile further along the track.

When I returned with the 4x4, the stranger was fully recovered and waiting by the road. The fire had died out.

"Jump in the truck," I told him. "We'll go back to my place and both get fully dried off, and I'll get you some clothes, then I'll drive you back to where you came from."

"I come from Spokane," he told me as he clambered into the passenger seat, "but I am never go back. I am claiming the refugee status in Canada!" he proclaimed.

Oh-oh! what had I gotten myself into here. I had seen on the evening news that there had been a large increase of border-jumping asylum-seekers in the last months, but I thought they mostly all in Manitoba and Quebec. The border around here was mostly very rugged terrain.

"Where are you from originally?" I asked. I had been unable to place his accent.

"I am from Damascus," he told me proudly. "I am a Syrian. I was hope to get the papers to live and work permanent in the United States but things are going bad for Syrians in the United States – and for all Muslims. "

I had to agree, it certainly looked that way.

"So what were you doing in Spokane?" I asked as I drove.

"I was working mending roads for the Seattle Electric Company," he told me. "They have power station at the Boundary Dam. The roads were very washed out during the last winter. They need labourers. They do not ask for Green Card."

"So you were an illegal?" I asked.

"Not complete illegal," he told me. "I have legal visa to visit the United States. I do not have work permit. That is why I mend roads in the back country," he added.

We were now on paved road again, and headed towards my home outside Fruitvale. I was tempted to turn around and drive him straight back to the border, but he was a refugee. The least I could do was take him home and feed him and dress him before palming him of on the authorities as their problem.

"Why did you think you were not safe in the States?" I asked.

"After the first Executive Order on Immigration, I join many others to protest the Executive Order in Seattle. I am arrested but released the next morning. But two days ago, a friendly secretary at Seattle Electric phone me where I was stay to warn me two Immigration officials had been ask about me. I knew I soon be arrested and deported back to Syria. If I try to enter Canada at border crossing I also be arrested and deported. If that happen, I would be killed! So I stole canoe from below the dam where I working and head for Canada. As you see, the canoe overturn and I nearly drown."

Intrigued, I asked, "Why would you be killed if you were returned to Syria?" I asked.

"Because there too, I had protest against the President, but that one the President of Syria, Bashar al-Hassad. My lover and I were part of peaceful protest march in Damascus. He was arrested and throw in prison without any charges were laid or a trial. From there he disappear. When I ask questions, nothing was know of him. He had simply disappear. In fact, he was secretly kill. This happen to many under al-Hassad.

His mention of his lover along with "he" did not escape my notice.

"At that time, I work for the Government. I hear through the – what is it you say? – grapetree?

"Grapevine," I informed him.

"yes, grapevine. I hear that I am in trouble. I quickly leave for Italy where I have good friends. I make very good friends in Turin when I take my Master Degree there before and my Doctor Degree. I got there a Doctor Degree in Civil Engineering. There I learned to build roads and bridges. That was my job in Syria. Building roads and bridges. So I go to Turin, and then I come to United States.

"It is very funny, but not good funny, that in the United States I mend potholes in the road. What is the word for that – not good funny?" he asked.

"I think you mean ironic," I told him. "What's even more ironic is that's what I do, too. I build roads. That's what the sign on the side of my truck says: 'Murphy Paving.' I'm the Murphy — Pat Murphy! And what is your name?" I asked.

"I am Adnan," he proclaimed. "Adnan Ismat, and I am very please to meet you, Pat Murphy, my rescuer! My hero!"

I was totally embarrassed. "I'm no hero!" I told him.

Luckily we were pulling into my driveway, or I'm sure he would have kissed me — not that I would have really minded that!

I led Adnan into the house, and briefly showed him around. There were three bedrooms, and I planned to put him in the one beside my own.

I showed him to the bathroom between the two bedrooms and suggested he take a nice hot shower to get the last of the cold of the river out of his bones. I left him to get undressed and into the shower, while I took his wet jeans and wet coat to the laundry. I put his jeans in the washer and stripped off my clothes including my still-damp underpants and added them to the washer. I started to hang his coat up to dry, when I remembered he had mentioned his papers, and I felt through the coat. There was a slit in the lining and reaching in I felt a small bundle. I pulled it out. It was a zip-lock baggy and inside I could see a passport and some other papers.

Leaving my boots in the laundry, I put his papers on the bed in the room I intended for him, and I padded back naked to the bathroom. I got a couple of fresh towels from the linen closet on the way. I was so used to being alone in the house that I was not even thinking about my nakedness as I strode into the bathroom where the shower was pouring warm water onto my guest.

Adnan didn't hear me enter, and he was obliviously soaping up his cock under the shower. It was rising to the occasion, and watching him, my own did the same. By the time he turned slightly and saw me staring, we both had considerable erections. Stiff, his cock had to be nearly nine inches, about an inch and a half longer than my own.

When he did see me, he jumped noticeably, and I'm sure that under his olive complexion his face was turning red.

"So sorry," he muttered trying to avoid my eye.

"Not a problem," I assured him. "We all do it!" I gestured toward my own woody, and Adnan relaxed somewhat. He even gave a little laugh.

"And you? Are you going to take a shower, too?" he asked brazenly.

"With you?" I took the bait.

"Yes, with me," he replied, grinning from ear to ear. It was an obvious invitation, and I wasted no time in putting the towels on the sink and joining him under the hot, running water.

Adnan was waiting for me eagerly. No sooner had I entered the stream of water than he drew me to him and planted a tender kiss full on my mouth. I responded just as eagerly clasping him closer. Our twin erections were pressed between us. He fumbled for mine and I for his. I love the feel of another man's cock in my hand — and in my mouth and in my ass!

We were both circumcised. I believe it is most common in Muslim countries, but not essential. Little was said between us. Sex is an international language. But Adnan did manage to gasp out:

"Kisses for my wonderful saviour!"

His tongue forced its way between my lips and I parted my teeth to allow its probing. My cock was extremely hard. I had not had sex with anyone – other than my own hand – since last fall.

Adnan stopped kissing me on the mouth and slipped down my body, kissing and nibbling at my already-hard nipples as he went, stopping to run his tongue around and into my belly-button, and on down to my straining cock.

He licked the underside, and I almost came right then, but he backed off and just eyed my member for a while, looking at it from all angles, giving me time to gather myself, before taking my knob between his lips.

Again, I had trouble controlling myself, but I manage to summon up some shreds of control from deep inside myself. He took my cock deep into his mouth and sucked it briefly, my knob deep in his throat, but he did not intend for me to blow my load inside his mouth. After a quick few bobs and sucks, he withdrew his mouth from my cock. He was clearly very skilled at sucking cock. When he stood again, he turned his back to me under the running water, pushing his buttocks out in invitation. It was clear that he wanted my cum in his ass.

I took his invitation gladly. I took the bar of soap from the holder and ran it up and down the crack of his ass, then applied it liberally to my own cock, whipping up suds. Adnan spread his buttocks for me with his hands, and before the soap could wash away, I pressed forward, finding his tight rosebud, and pressing on, parting the sphincter muscles, and slowing invading his inner places.

Adnan gasped in pain or pleasure as I entered him, and I paused in my invasion. I felt him relax and pressed on. I could feel my shaft driving deeper into his bowels, straightening the path before it, allowing me deeper and deeper access.

Finally I was fully inside him, and we began a slow dance as I moved ever so slightly back and forth, allowing my cock to withdraw a little before sliding back into its deepest reach once more, over and over again.

At last I could hold off no longer. I could feel my balls retracting, my cock swelling even more, and that tingling, almost painful, pressure in my groin. Then the spasms, as cum pumped up my urethra, squirting out deep inside my Syrian friend's asshole. He responded by clenching his ass muscles, drawing my cum from me, squeezing every drop out of me.

When I was fully drained, my hard cock slowly shrank and withdrew itself from his ass. It popped out and a stream of my cum dribbled from his hole and was quickly washed away by the warm water of the shower, disappearing down the drain.

Adnan turned and we kissed again even more passionately than before. I turned off the water and reached for the towels I had carried in a few minutes earlier. As we dried each other off, I asked, "Do you want to eat? Or shall we go to my bedroom?"

"Sex will be my food for now," he smiled. "We go to the bedroom."

That was good enough for me. We kissed greedily once more before I led him naked to my bedroom.

"Thank you," I told him as we lay together on my king-sized bed. "It has been many months since I have had sex with another man. Thank you again, Adnan," I told him.

"Please call me Adi," he told me. "All my friends call me Adi. I think you are my friend.

"The sex was very good," he continued. "It has been more long time for me. You are first man since my lover Firas has disappear. Three years now."

"I'm so sorry, Adi," I told him. "Maybe we can make up a little for that time right now. It's your turn to fuck me." I took his cock in my hand as he lay there on his back, stroking it gently. It was very stiff and very thick. I knew that even with ample lubricant it was going to hurt, was going to be an effort to take inside me.

"I would like that," he said. "Maybe you want to sit on my cock so you can control?" he suggested.

I reached into the drawer of my bedside table to retrieve a tube of Anal Lube and squeezed a liberal amount onto my fingers. I pressed some into my ass crack and asshole, and spread the rest thoroughly along Adi's granite-hard shaft. I knelt, straddling him, facing toward him, I lowered my ass toward his prick. I reached back and guided it so the thick head was against my hungry hole – hungry for a man inside me.

I pressed back, lowering my ass onto his rod. My anus opened slightly and the tip of his cock-head forced its way into me – further, further. Delicious pain flooded through me. Push! Pain! Push! Pain! Push! and his cock-head burst through the muscle rings and slid into my bowels, opening the channel and slipping deeper. The shaft followed, driving deeper and deeper into me. It was a wonderful feeling, a feeling of opening up, of welcoming a treasured visitor.

I continued to sink down onto him until I felt his black, wiry pubes pressed against my buttocks. As I descended, Adi pushed up to meet me, driving his cock up, up, up into me. Once it was as far into me as it would go, I began raising myself up again, up into kneeling position once more, drawing his cock down through my bowels, rubbing against sensitive places, making my own cock rock hard.

Again and again I raised and lowered myself, while Adi pressed upwards to meet my downwards motions, until I heard him gasp out a couple of words in Arabic. He strained upward as I pressed down, and I felt the pulsing of his shaft as he pumped his fluids deep inside me — over and over his cock pulsed, and at each pulse another squirt of hot semen into my bowels. I thought he was never going to stop, that his cum would start flooding out of my ass, but eventually he slowed, and I sat down upon him while his cock slowly softened and retracted. I flopped on the bed beside him and we lay there for a while.

"That was amazing, Adi," I whispered. "Do you want to eat now?" Outside the windows it was already getting dark.

"Later," he said. "Let us just lay here for some minutes."

I snuggled up against him, and before I knew it, I was sleeping. I presume Adi slept, too, and that it was his stirring and awakening in a strange bed that woke me. I glanced at the digital clock in the dark. It was nearly 9 o'clock. I felt Ad's hand close around my cock, which was already piss-hard. It was instantly full hard. In a swift movement, his hand was replaced by his mouth. He was an expert cock-sucker, as I had noted before, and in no time at all, my man-seed was squirting from my piss-hole deep in his throat. He had no trouble swallowing my load, but took it down thirstily.

After a short rest, and a trip to the adjoining bathroom to clean up a little, I found some boxers and a t-shirt for Adi to wear, and dressed myself similarly, then led him to the kitchen, where I set about preparing us a meal mostly from the freezer. I was a bit concerned about the sausages I was going to cook for us, but Adi examined the packaging and declared them OK for him to eat because there was no pork listed. He also assured me that although he was Moslem, he was not very strict about the dietary rules, just avoiding pork when he could.

As we ate, I offered to drive him to Nelway Border Crossing the next day, so he could find out from the Canadian Immigration Services what he needed to do. I actually had an old fuck-buddy, Mick, a married guy, who worked at the border service, and I hoped to call upon him for help. He owed me a few – for services rendered!

But Adi rejected the idea.

"Not yet," he said. "If I could I would want to stay here with you few days. Is OK?" he asked, pleadingly.

If it meant more of the fantastic sex I had experienced that afternoon I was more than happy to have him stay.

After dinner, I led not to the room I had intended for him, but to my own once more, where, in the dark of my bed, I begged him to fuck me again. Adi was more than happy to oblige. This time my ass was stretched and ready for him as we fucked on our sides. His man-meat slid into me easily, helped no doubt by the remnants of his own cum from earlier.

In this position it was easily for us to kiss while we fucked, and we did so constantly, taking our time, fucking slowly and steadily. I loved the slow push in and the slow withdrawal. I could feel his pole sliding in and out of me, over and over. Eventually he speeded up a little and the contractions of his rod began. I knew he was squirting more cum into me. Again he muttered a few words in Arabic as he came.

Finished, we lay spooned together, his cock still buried in me. Satiated, I drifted off to sleep.

It was nice to awake next morning with another man in bed beside me, even one I did not yet know very well, one who spoke rather stilted English as well as a language I knew nothing of, who had a different religion – not that I was much on religion – and who was a fugitive on two continents.

I opened my eyes to find him already awake, lying there, just watching me. He smiled when he saw my eyes open, and I'm sure he smiled even more broadly when I bent over him and kissed him, then transferred my mouth's attentions to his already-hard penis. I'm afraid I am not nearly as good a cocksucker as Adi is. My gag-reflex is too strong, and I was unable to get the full 9 inches inches of his prick in my mouth and down my throat. About 6 inches was the best that I could manage, but as I pumped my face up and down on his rod, I massaged the base of his shaft and played with his large balls, which were loose and dangling. But as I continued to suck and fondle his balls began to retract.

I knew that soon he would cum. I looked forward to the taste of Adi's cum, wondering if it tasted any different to my own or that of other men whose cum I had swallowed.

When he did erupt down my throat, most of it went straight down my gullet, but I managed to keep some in my mouth to taste and savour it. It definitely did taste different to what I was used to, rather sweetish, if anything, and certainly none of the bitter taste of asparagus eaters. It made me hungry for more — and for breakfast.

After we'd eaten, I realized I had forgotten to put our jeans in the dryer the night before. (I'd had other things on my mind.) They were still sitting damp in the washer. I searched through my drawers and found suitable clothes for both of us. Adi was a little taller than I, and maybe a little slimmer, but I togged us out fairly well. His leather jacket was not yet dry, even though I had hung it near a hot air vent in the laundry, so I found an old jean jacket for him.

Dressed, I took Adi for a drive around the area, and in particular to my paving operation base. It was not a big asphalt plant by any means, but it did manage to earn a living for me and my dozen or so employees. I had given most of them a week off following the mad-house of road clearing in winter and the hard labour or road building and mending in spring and summer to come. Only Jake, the mix plant and crusher operator-mechanic was working, trying to get things ready for the coming season.

I introduced him to Adi, and briefly told him of the background.

"Welcome to Canada," he said to Adi, and in an aside to me, when he got a chance while Adi prowled around the plant, "Wow! Looks like he's well-hung. Did you get into his pants yet?" Jake and I had often gotten into each other's pants when we were alone here, and sometimes he had spent the night with me at my home when his wife left town to visit her parents.

"Yes, he is; and yes, I have," was all I needed to say.

On the drive back to town to do a little grocery shopping, it became clear to me that Adi knew what he was talking about when he came to paving plants. He suggested a couple of improvements I could make to both the crusher and the mix plant, both things so obvious once he had pointed them out. I complimented him on his knowledge.

"I was the overseer – is that the word? – for several such plants across Syria," he told me. "The roads were always in damage, mostly bombs and other devices from al-Assad's soldiers or the rebel soldiers or ISIS," he told me. "Repair, destroy, repair, destroy, repair! It was an endless job."

His obvious knowledge had started the germ of an idea in my head. I would run it past Adi and Mick my Immigration Department buddy when I had mulled it over a bit more.

I took Adi with me into the supermarket, and into the hardware store while I purchased a few items I needed round the house. I ran into several old associates and neighbours, and I introduced them to Adi, giving them a little of his background. I did not mention that he was currently an illegal in Canada. They all welcomed him warmly, hoping he would enjoy his new life here. Adi was smart enough not to say anything which might upset them.

The more I saw of him, the more I heard from him, the more I was attracted to him. As I have said, he was of about my own size, just a little darker complexioned and a little more facial hair. (I was always always half-shaven – not because it was fashionable; but because I was lazy about shaving.) I loved his deep dark-brown eyes, and his white white teeth which shone against the background of his short, well-trimmed dark beard when he smiled. I loved the smell of him, and the taste of his kisses – and of his cum. I loved the feel of his skin on mine, and of his cock in me!

No, I was not in love with him — not yet! But I was well on the way! I think I had started to claim him for myself the moment he said, "I am claiming the refugee status in Canada!" He was a sort of symbol of someone I could save and protect – and maybe love and be loved in return!

When we returned to my place, I made a call to Mick, my old fuck-buddy in Immigration at the Nelway Border Crossing. I briefly gave him some background on Adi's situation. He told me:

"Don't mention to anyone that we've had this conversation. I'll drop by when I get off shift – probably be around 7 by the time I get to your place.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing and exploring – each other. Adi once again buried his huge brown tool in my receptive asshole, which was now used to his invasions. We were able to fuck poundingly for ages before he spent himself inside me again.

While we rested up I asked him a few questions:

"Do you think you could live in a small town like this?

"Of course!" he cried. "It is so beautiful, so peaceful."

"Could you live with a man like me?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed again. "You are the most good man I have met since my Firas has gone! I will never forget Firas, but you can be in his place."

"…and do you think you could work in my small paving company?" I continued.

"It would be wonderful," he cried. "I would never disappoint you. I would never leave you! I think I am already love you!" he confessed.

So he also felt this strong attraction growing between us.

By the time Mick arrived, still in uniform, we were both very anxious about what would transpire. Mick immediately told us to ignore the uniform. This was to be strictly off the record. We settled in the living-room.

"Now tell me in detail all about Adi's history," he said.

Adnan and I between us filled him in on Adi's life in Syria, about the protest, about Firas' disappearance, the flight to Italy and on to the US. We told him how Adi had taken part in the protests against the President's Executive Order, his arrest and release, and the subsequent search for him by the Immigration officials; Adnan's escape in the canoe which overturned, and my rescuing him.

"However…" he continued. We both leapt at that straw of "However…"

"Yes," we both cried, in unison.

"Tell me again how you arrived in Canada," Mick asked of Adi.

"I am working near Boundary Dam. I get warning Immigration officers look for me. I wrap my papers in plastic bag and hide them in coat. I steal canoe and paddle north in the river. Canoe turn over. I do not swim well. I cry for help. I am drown. Pat he save me, pull me to shore in Canada!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"Don't get your hopes too high here," Mick warned, "but I can see a loophole here. The Safe Third Country rule applies to persons arriving by land from the United States. It does not apply to persons landing in Canada by air – or by water. That means by ship or by ferry — or by canoe!" he laughed.

"You are free to apply for refugee status without fear of being returned to the States," he told Adi, "but be sure you never mention again that you stole the canoe," he warned. "That was a criminal act, and could make you ineligible. I never heard you say it tonight, and I don't want to hear you say it tomorrow!" he admonished.

"Now, if I've got this right, Pat, you're willing to sponsor this man?"

"Yes," I replied

"That is almost the same as adopting him," Mick warned me. "You become responsible for him in most of the ways you would be responsible for your child. You are responsible for any debts with the government or the health services," he warned.

"You are also willing to employ him, you say?"

"Yes," I also agreed

I hesitated for a long time before answering, looking at Adi to see if he understood the question. He obviously did, because he was looking at me waiting for my reply. He nodded at me. It was enough to tell me he would be agreeable.

It was also enough for me to make my decision.

"Yes, it is likely," I agreed.

"Well," Mick sighed. "That's about it. I know I might be doing myself out of a fuck-buddy, but bring Adi to my office at the border crossing tomorrow. I'll interview you both officially. We'll fill out all the preliminary papers, and I will add my recommendation that he be granted full refugee status and permanent resident status as soon as possible. Make sure you bring all your ID and any other papers you have such as education records, health records and so on.

"I can't guarantee this, but I am pretty certainly that within a couple of weeks – a month at most – you'll be called in to the Nelson Immigration Office for a further interview, and if all goes well, within a couple of weeks after that you will be approved and receive your papers."

"Wow!" I said. "I don't know how we can thank you for all your advice and help, Mick."

"Hmm," mused Mick. "Maybe the occasional threesome some time in the future?" he joked as we saw him to the door.

Adi raised an enquiring eyebrow

"Sex — all three of us," I explained.

A big grim broke over his face, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I think that's your answer," I told Mick.

"I'll be looking forward to it," he replied.

After Mick left, we settled down together on the chesterfield to watch some TV, but both of us wanted more than TV. Within minutes we had stripped off each other's t-shirts. I pulled him down across my lap and bent and kissed him. His response was eagerness to explore my mouth with his tongue. As we kissed I could feel my cock rising to the occasion once more.

"Would you really want to marriage partner?" I asked.

"Yes," he told me. "But we will wait and see what happens with us, eh?" he added.

"Let's go into the bedroom," I whispered. This time Adi led the way. We dropped our jeans on the floor, and pulled off our socks. Completely naked, we fell onto the bed together, writhing and groping at each other, consumed by lust – and maybe something more than just lust.

"Now you. You fuck me again." Adi looked at me imploring. I couldn't resist. Neither could my cock, which was already hard, hard, hard, ready for the job.

Adi lay on his back across the bed and raised his legs. First applying just a trace of lubricant, I knelt behind him and aimed my cock head for his brown rear eye. A little pressure and I was inside him. A little more and I was buried to the hilt. He moaned in pleasure as my man-meat drove into him, moving his legs and resting them over my shoulders to give me better access to his hot hole.

From this position I could easily lean forward and kiss him while we fucked. I did so, and he forced his tongue into my mouth. I could taste his sweet exotic flavour. I hungered for more.

Taking a brief pause from tongue play, he asked me, "Do you enjoy our sex?"

"Enjoy it? I Love it!" I proclaimed vehemently. "I want more all the time."

"Good!" he replied. "Me too. Maybe you will decide to keep me!" he hinted.

"I have already decided," I told him. "I'm not letting a catch like you go. I pulled you out of the river, and now you're mine!"

I continued to pump my cock into him while we kissed and chatted. I knew I was definitely falling in love with him. Yes, at this point it was mostly sexual, but what wonderful sex! I could feel him clenching the muscles in his ass, trying to milk my man juice from me. I could feel my nuts drawing up in response, getting ready to shoot my cum into him. One more squeeze and I had no more control. My milky semen gushed from my tubes into his depths. It was a powerful flow.

"I can feel your sperm going into me," he announced. "Such a wonderful feeling."

"Yes, it is!" I agreed as my last spasm shook me. I pulled out of him and flopped back on the bed. Adi swivelled round and cradled me, spooning into me. I could feel his still-hard cock pressing at my back door. I wanted him in me just as much as he wanted to be in me. I reached for the tube of lubricant from the bedside table and handed it to him. "Your turn," I told him.

Still laying on our sides, Adi applied a little lube to himself and poked a lubed finger into me. I was ready for him. Just a little shove and he was inside me. I could feel his long, thick Arab cock way up in me. It felt so good, so right, as if this were what I had been waiting for all my life.

Twisting slightly, I wrapped and arm round Adi's shoulders and we kissed gently and tenderly as we fucked slowly and passionately. When he eventually came inside me, he did not pull out, but just lay there deep inside me. I clenched the muscles of my ass, milking the last of his juices from him. Eventually my arm started to get pins and needles, so I moved, pulling his cock out of my ass. I wriggled round on top of him and gave him one long last, passionate kiss for the night, before we assumed a spooning position once more

I don't know for sure what Adnan was thinking about before he drifted off to sleep, but I do know that all I could think about were the prospects for tomorrow – and possibly all the rest of my days and nights – and a new life for both of us!

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