Date: Wed, 1 Dec 2010 12:09:49 +0100 From: A.K. Subject: The Mercenary and the Friar 06/14 (Adult Youth) ---------------------------- THE MERCENARY AND THE FRIAR By Andrej Koymasky © 2010 Written on January 20th, 2003 Translated by the Author English text kindly revised by Ed, a reader ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "THE MERCENARY AND THE FRIAR" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- SIX - The absolution and the new meeting Sitting at the table in the small room behind the church, normally reserved for the priest, the two former novices were eating what the village people brought them, under the attentive glances of the old man, Manuel, the sacristan and warden of the small village church. It was simple but tasty and abundant food, so that they could appease their hunger. When they passed through the church, they noticed, behind the altar, the statue of Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, with the seven swords piercing her heart, surrounded by lighted candles. The old man had filled their mugs with a light, clear and somewhat sour but agreeable beer. Isidro noticed, in a corner of the room, a queen size bed. A curtain that in that moment was drawn open sheltered it. He said in a low voice, bending towards his companion, ÒWe have to sleep together..." and smiled with a light mischievous expression. "Unhappily we have only one bed here but it is wide enough for two people." the old man said at their back. He evidently had good ears, notwithstanding his old age. "It will go more than well, Manuel, don't worry." Isidro merrily said to him. After they ate, a woman came to fetch the pans and tableware to wash them at the well. Manuel showed three books to the boys, "Here, this is Father Alonzo's Holy Bible..." "The parish priest?" Augustin asked. "No, the one of twenty years ago, who is now dead. Then came Father Sebastian, and now Father Martin. Then, this is the Mass book..." "We cannot yet celebrate the mass..." Augustin told him at once. "I guessed it, you are too young. But this evening you two can direct the holy rosary, can't you? Usually I direct it..." "You can direct it, Manuel..." Augustin said with a gentle smile. "No, the people will appreciate it if you do something for them..." the old man said. "Surely, you are right. It will be a way at least to thank you all for your hospitality and for the food." Augustin agreed. "And this book," the old man went on, "is the record of the christenings, of the marriages, and of the dead. We have used it for about two hundred years and it is not yet full... we are few in this village, but we all are good Christians." "Very well, Manuel, thank you." Augustin said while the old man with religious care put the three books back on the only shelf of the room. Then the old man sat on the only free chair and started to narrate to the two boys the life of the village. He concluded, "And so, the men, the youths, those able to do a job, are all down there, at the coffee plantation. They seldom come back so only the old women and the children remain here, besides the men like me who are too old. The women till their small plot of land and raise a few animals, just to get something to eat. The men come back only four times a year. In fact, our children are born mainly in four months, in March, June, September and December... more or less. When the men come it's a feast, as they bring cuts of fabric, possibly even a piece of furniture for the house, a pan or some kitchenware, candles... No, we are not rich, but we cannot complain. "Sometimes, when the government soldiers, or the mercenaries, or the guerrillas pass here... So... besides eating all we don't have time to hide, children are born also in other months... More mouths to feed. But what do you want, one cannot oppose a storm or an earthquake... one can just wait until it is over... and start again to live." "Do they come often?" Isidro asked. "More often than one could desire... less often than one can fear..." was the laconic and resigned answer of the old man. "And... do they also kill?" "No, we don't have weapons, and usually there are no men... and we let them do all they please... No, they don't kill." "At least that..." Augustin sadly remarked. "Sure, at least that." the old man confirmed with a grave expression, agreeing with great nods of his head. "And you, Manuel, what did you do when you were a young man?" Augustin asked him, "Were you, too, going down to the coffee plantations?" "No, I was, and still am for what my forces allow me, the village teacher... But when I will pass away... the children will no longer have a teacher." "But... the government?" Isidro asked. "The government? I doubt they even know we exist. The government... is interested only in those they can milk, and from us they cannot milk anything. And this is possibly real luck. At times, being so poor is a blessing of our Lord." "Do you have family?" "No. My family are the people of this village." "Didn't you ever marry? You never had a woman?" Isidro asked, with curiosity, and Augustin threw him a black glance. "Yes, I've been married, I was young... we both were young... Down there, in Medellin... But she, after four years, went away... So I came up here." "With another man?" Isidro asked, and Augustin under the table kicked him. "No, with the good Lord. She was too good a person, so the good Lord called her with him." "And you didn't have children?" Isidro asked, this time folding his legs under his chair fearing to get another kick from Augustin. "My Imelda went away delivering our first son... I raised him here... Now he too is married and works with the others at the coffee plantation..." "Why did you come to this village? Were you born here?" "No, I just looked for a place as far as possible from the city, that's all. And I stopped here in the sierra, because the people received us well. In those times there was not war like now..." "Why didn't you marry again?" Isidro insisted, careless of the black glances of his friend. "Because no woman could take the place of my Imelda." "You were so much in love..." Augustin commented. "We are so much in love!" the man answered back in a rush of pride. Then in a low voice, he added, "And I know she is waiting for me. For us down here time flows slowly, it seems to never pass, but up there time doesn't exist, and when I get there, it will be as if we parted just yesterday, or rather a minute ago." the old man said with a sweet smile that brightened his bony face. The two boys, after the meal, wandered a little in the village. When the time for the rosary came, the two former novices directed it, to the great satisfaction of all the village people. Finally, after supper, they could go to bed. A real bed, with even the sheets, although made of rough hemp, and a warm, polychrome wool blanket, hand woven on an Indian's vertical loom. The two boys undressed and, wearing only their underpants, slipped between the sheets. When they were well settled, Isidro blew out the candle and the small room fell in the darkness, as there was the new moon. "Why were you kicking me under the table today during the dinner?" at a point Isidro asked. "Because you asked questions that are not to be asked to a stranger, and even less to an old man who could be your grandfather." "It seemed to me that there was nothing wrong. I didn't ask him... who and how he fucked, did I?" "It would have been the last straw!" Augustin exclaimed. "Are you angry with me?" his friend asked. "Yes, a little... you have to be more careful, to care more about the feelings of others, haven't you?" "Come on, Augustin... come on..." "Come on, what?" "Let's make peace..." Isidro said and under the blanket caressed his friend's bare chest. Augustin stiffened slightly, but said nothing and didn't withdraw from that caress. "Can we make peace?" Isidro asked again in a winning toe, and curled against him. The contact with the half naked body of his friend gave a shudder to Augustin who tried this time to escape that contact, but as he moved back he felt himself stopped against the wall which the bed abutted. "Let's make peace..." Isidro insisted, caressing his companion in a more intimate way. "Come on..." the friend murmured, "Now stop it, let me rest in peace. Yes, all right, we made peace." But Isidro slipped on top of him, embraced and tried to kiss him in the dark. Augustin at once felt the hard tool of his companion push against him and, unavoidably, he started to get aroused too. He tried, but without real conviction, to stop the now clear advances of his friend. By now, Isidro was brushing against him without any more restraint. Augustin tried once more to push him away, but now he too was fully aroused. Isidro tried again to kiss him, but Augustin shut his lips tight. Isidro insisted and the warmth and the excitation of his young and firm body unavoidably communicated to that of Augustin. "No..." Augustin murmured, but the tongue of the other boy slipped between his lips, his hand went down to caress his friend's now hard pole, and Augustin felt unable to resist him any more. When Isidro became aware that his friend was surrendering, he smirked with a satisfied smile that his friend could not see, and doubled his efforts to involve him... and finally felt his companion's hands start to caress his back. "Fuck me, Augustin..." Isidro invoked. "No..." Augustin repeated, but without the least conviction. "Yes..." said the boy with a winning tone, as he knew he had gotten the upper hand in his small battle. They were assuming the position to fuck, led by the full desire of Isidro, and when Augustin had finally given up trying to escape his insistent requests, when a strong and fast knocking at the door of the room interrupted them. "Don't answer, let pretend we are sleeping..." Isidro urgently whispered. But the knocking went on with more insistence and a voice said, "Padrecitos, padrecitos... come... open, please, old Mercedes is dying and she wants a father... Open, hurry up..." "Don't answer..." Isidro almost begged. "I'm coming, I'm coming. I heard you! Just a moment!" Augustin yelled. He freed himself from Isidro's embrace and got up, gropingly searching for the match box, and again lit the candle. He hurriedly donned his clothes, under the frowning glances of his companion. "What are you doing there? Aren't you coming?" Augustin asked him. "No, you'll be enough, padrecito! I will now beat my meat to relieve myself. Go, go. You are the padrecito, I am just a former novice dressed as a friar!" Augustin went out of the curtain enclosed area and opened the door, "Here I am, lead the way." The woman, with a lantern in her hands, said, "This way." and set off quickly. They went in a nearby small house. They passed through the kitchen where the old woman's family and the neighbors, and the children with their eyes red for having been just waken up, were tightly crowded around the table. They entered into the bedroom. On the bed was an old woman whose skin was like parchment. She was under a blanket with only her face visible and she looked at the boy with sharp eyes. "Gracias, padrecito. Go away, you, and shut the door, I have to confess my sins" the old woman said with a faint but determined voice to the woman who led Augustin there. Near the bed was a stool and the boy sat on it while the other woman was going out and carefully shutting the door. The old woman took a skinny and bony hand, deformed by arthritis, out of the blanket and seized the boy's frock with an unsuspected energy, pulling him to her. "I want to confess my sins, padrecito." "Grandmother, I am not a father, I am just a novice. I don't have the power to confess you, to give you the absolution..." "No one else here can do it. And it's clearly the good Lord who sent you here, so that I don't die in this deadly sin. Therefore you have to confess me, padrecito!" "Grandmother, I do not have this power. The bishop didn't yet consecrate me..." the boy gently insisted. "I have a weight on my conscience and only you can keep it away. You can't refuse it, padrecito. You have to hear my confession. You must!" the old woman said looking at him with a sharp, imperious glance. "If you want to free yourself from the weight you feel you have... I can listen to you, but just like any man. I am not yet a father, a priest." "You are a padrecito, a man of god, and that's enough for me!" "I'm afraid I am not exactly a man of God, grandmother. Moreover... what serious sin can you have on your conscience?" "This is what I have to confess. Will you hear me, padrecito? Will you?" "Say it, grandmother, and the good Lord will also listen to you, I am certain." the boy resigned himself. "Good. I killed a man. I killed my husband. Oh, so many years ago. Everybody thinks it had been an accident, but it was me who killed him." the old woman said. "You... you really did...?" "Of course it is so. What do you think, that I have become mad?" "But why?" the boy asked, almost in a sob. "Because he was an evil man. He... he raped all our children, one after the other, be they sons or daughters, as soon as they were grown enough. When I discovered it, I told him to stop, or else I would kill him. But he beat me bloody and went on. And so I... One evening I made him get drunk, and when everybody was sleeping, I dragged him outside and as nobody could see me, I threw him into the well and drowned him. Like the sewer rat he was. I know, I know, padrecito, that revenge doesn't belong to me, it belongs to God. I know that it is a sin, because I took the place of His divine justice, but I couldn't stand it any more. "Afterwards I repented, but too late - he was dead. When they found him, everybody thought that, as drunk as he was, he fell into the well by himself. I couldn't go to jail, I had my daughters and sons to raise. And I never had the courage to confess my sin to the priest when he came here to the village to hear our confessions before the mass. And I even took holy communion even though I was living in a deadly sin, not to betray myself... Please, padrecito, please, give me the absolution." "I am not a priest, I cannot." the boy moaned. "You can! You have to! Or it will be you who sends me to hell!" "God listened to you, he read your heart, he certainly forgave you..." "If it's as you say, then you have to give me the absolution!" the old woman said tugging the boy's frock. "You should give me the absolution, padrecito, if it is true that God forgave me, you are the man of god, who can give me it to me but you?" "Soon the priest will come, and you can confess to him..." "No, before the new sun rises, I will be gone. Only you can give me the absolution." "How can you know that you will go before the sunrise, grandmother?" "I know it, and that's all. Give me the absolution, padrecito!" "I... I, for what a man can do... I absolve you from your sin, grandmother. Go in peace with God." The boy said, his voice broken. The old woman released her hold on his frock and her face seemed to soften. "Good. I can now die in peace. Thank you, padrecito. But... tell me..." "Yes, grandmother?" "What should I say to the good Lord when I will be in front of him?" "Don't worry, grandmother. The right words will come to your lips by themselves, without needing to prepare a speech beforehand." "Are you sure, padrecito?" "I am certain, grandmother." "You are an angel sent by God, padrecito. May the Lord reward you." "From up there... remember me, pray for me." the boy said, troubled. He stood up, then on instinct he traced with his thumb the cross sign on the old woman's forehead; she took his hand and kissed it. Then Augustin hurriedly went out of that house and back to the church. Isidro was waiting for him, sitting on the bed, the candle still lit. "So, then, did the old woman die?" "Shut up for once, Isidro!" Augustin said, undressing. Isidro understood that something deep was troubling his friend and, overcoming his desire to ask him a thousand questions he already had on his lips, moved towards the wall to make room for Augustin on the bed. This one, when he was undressed, blew out the candle and laid down to sleep. Isidro, instinctively, took care not to touch him, and kept silent. After a while they both were sleeping. The following morning Manuel brought the breakfast to the two boys. He sat with them and while looking at them eating, said to Augustin, "Thank you for what you did. Old Mercedes died in peace, thanks to you." "When did she die?" Augustin asked, still shaken, raising his head from the dish. "This morning, before the sunrise..." "Yes, just as she said." the boy murmured. "She was happy you listened to her confession." Manuel commented. "Even though I am not a priest. I told her, but she didn't intend to hear reason..." the boy excused himself. "You did the right thing, believe me!" the old man said in a determined tone. When Manuel went out, Isidro asked to his friend, "But what could have been so urgent for that old woman to confess?" "Isidro! You well know that a confession is secret, don't you? How can you ask me such a question?" "Come on, you aren't a priest, and then I'm your friend, am I not? You are not bound to the secrecy..." "But to her it was as if I were, therefore of course I am bound to the secret even if I am not a priest. And in these matters, put it well in your thick skull, there is no friendship that counts. Is it clear?" "All right, all right, padrecito. As you wish... for what do I care, after all..." the boy answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I want to go away from here, before they do her funeral." Augustin declared. "But why? They feed us, give us a soft bed..." "And they treat us like fathers although we are not. No, we should go away." "We can stay one more day, can't we?" "No, we will go now!" "Augustin! At least wait until after dinner. With our bellies full we will walk much better, won't we?" "All right. But we will leave immediately after dinner. Is that clear?" "It's clear, yes, it's clear. We will leave immediately after dinner." the boy said in a condescending tone, but shaking his head. Augustin informed Manuel that, just after dinner, they "had" to leave. The old man took note without asking questions. They were finishing eating, when they heard a distant, weird noise, like the snore of a cat who is purring - it came and went periodically. Old Manuel lifted up his head, listening. After a short time, said, "Engines... many... troubles are coming!" Almost immediately after came a small group of children shouting at the top of their voices, announcing to all the village, "Los gringos, los gringos!" "Mercenaries." the old Manuel commented at the door of the church. He then added, "If you have to go, it would be better you do it immediately." Augustin saw that the few people of the village were running hurriedly and understood they were hiding their poor goods, mainly the preserved food and the few animals they had. Then everybody shut themselves in their houses, dragging the children with them, and blocking the doors. Manuel shook his head, "They know well that it is useless to bar the doors, all they will get is that they, whoever they are, will knock down their doors. But instinct is stronger than reason." "And you, what will you do?" Augustin asked him. "I will stay here, at the door of the church and wait. What else can I do?" "Then we too will wait here with you." Augustin said decidedly, and read an expression of gratitude in the eyes of the old man. Isidro whispered at his ear, "Possibly... possibly it is them..." Augustin looked at him, "It could be." "Do you hope to..." his friend started to say. "To convince them to go elsewhere. To let these poor people be in peace." the boy cut short. They soon saw the jeep of Captain Sanders coming along the road leading to the village, followed by the mercenaries' trucks and jeeps. Both the boys at once recognized it. Augustin then walked at a fast pace towards the vehicle to intercept it before it entered the village. Isidro, after a short hesitation, followed him running to reach him. The two boys reached the road and stood in front of the jeep before it had reached the first houses of the village. Sanders raised a hand and the entire column stopped. "Captain Sanders, there is no sense for you to enter this village. These people are very poor, they have nothing, they have too little to eat... and there aren't even enough houses to host you all. The men are all far away to work and who knows when they will be back." Sanders stood up inside his jeep, "Good, if there aren't men, the women will welcome my men! They can find a few chickens to strip... Move away, boys, out of our way!" "I pray you, captain... I told you that..." "All right, all right. It will just be a time for my men to have a nice fuck, and then we will leave, I promise you. We will touch nothing else, all right?" "But, captain..." Augustin tried to protest. "I owe it to my men. Not all of them relieved themselves with young friars, like you there, and even many who did, after all, would have liked it better doing it with a woman. Therefore... don't play the hero, boy, it would be useless. Here, he who decides, is me. And if you don't move away from there, I will drive my jeep over you and then I will order my men to raze the village to the ground. Do you want to take this responsibility?" Augustin shuddered but reflected that he had to possibly choose the lesser evil. "Do you give me your word that... that besides the women..." he asked in a hesitant tone. "Sanders has just one word, be it with his men or with other people. Move away, boy! I told you we will just fuck them and then we will leave without touching anything else. A question of a couple of hours, possibly even less." Isidro pulled the sleeve of his friend, "Let's move away from here... you can't get more, don't you understand? Moreover... I want to see Joe again and take him to the priest's room to get a good fuck... Don't you want to see Neil too?" Augustin let his friend push him to the side of the road and looked at the column go on towards the village, watching it pass, with a grim and dejected look, and with a pained hearing of the hurrahs of mercenaries, who knew that they could soon amuse themselves. From the first truck that had just passed beyond them and was entering the village, one of the mercenaries jumped out and Augustin at once recognized Neil, and his heart jumped in his chest. The man reached the boy and stopped in front of him. "You're here, Augustin? What are you doing here? Did you run away from the abbey?" Isidro asked, "Where is Joe? In your truck?" The mercenary turned towards the boy, "He is in the last truck." Then while Isidro was running after the last truck, he again addressed Augustin, and he asked again, "Did you run away from the abbey?" "How could I stay there, after what we... what you and I did, se–or?" he said and blushed, but didn't move his eyes away from those of the man. Neil nodded, "Let's stay here, you and I... you know that it's useless for me to go to the village... I am not interested in women or children." "Did you hear when I said that at the village there are no men or boys?" "No I didn't, but the driver of the truck, heard you and told us. But I didn't imagine it was you. Come..." "Where?" the boy asked, but docilely let the man push him amongst the bushes. "Were we cannot be seen. Nobody will come here, both my comrades and the women will all be busy ... and the houses are far enough." "Do you want to... to fuck me?" "Why, you don't?" "You well know that... that it's enough you just touch me, or rather, that you even just look at me, to make me feel the desire, don't you?" the boy answered in a low voice while they were entering into the bushes. "As soon as I recognized you... I didn't believe my eyes, Augustin... Come here..." the man said pulling him in his arms. He kissed him deeply on the mouth, and the boy returned the kiss, abandoning himself against the strong body of the man. At once he felt the hard erection pulsate against him through their clothes, and his erection at once answered back, so that the man felt it also. "You are aroused, boy..." he said in a low voice, pleased. "I told you, didn't I?" Neil quickly opened his combat suit, without taking it off, and his rod jumped out of his clothes, strong and hard. Augustin glided down on his knees in front of the man and took it between his lips. Neil pushed it into his mouth and the former novice started to suck it as he learned to do. The mercenary caressed his hair and moaned his pleasure. Going on to caress his head, he let the boy give him pleasure for some time, then searched in one of his pockets and found both the Vaseline tin and the condoms. He then parted from the boy, sat on the grass, prepared himself and looked at the boy. "Lower your trousers and sit here on my lap... I will take you so, this time." Augustin quickly took off trousers and underpants, raised his frock and, having understood how the man wanted to take him, crouched astride the lap of the man. Neil seized him at his hips and guided the boy to him. Augustin pushed a hand between their bodies to lead the strong rod of the man, until he felt its tip touch his hidden hole, then went down with a determined move, impaling himself vigorously on it, taking it entirely inside him in one only downward stroke. While the boy was feeling it penetrate inside his channel, he emitted a low moan of pleasure and closed his eyes." "You like it..." the man murmured. Augustin nodded in assent. When Neil felt that the boy was firmly sitting on him, and the firm flesh pole was entirely inside him, took the boy's face between his hands and kissed him deeply. He then parted their lips and said with a hoarse voice, "Now it's up to you... spring up and down... you have to ride it as if you galloped on a wild horse..." The boy nodded and started to move up and down, still guided by the man's strong hands. He then opened his eyes and looked at Neil's. "Is it... is it good, so?" he asked with a hint of voice. "Yes... Do you like it?" "Yes, se–or, I love it. And you?" "Mmmhhh..." the man answered while he again kissed him deeply on his mouth. Yes, Neil thought while enjoying the much unforeseen but very pleasant ride, that boy really was a "natural", he was born to make love, not to be a friar! In the meantime Isidro found Joe and didn't have any difficulty convincing him not to look for a girl, but to take him. He led him in the room behind the church, and was now totally naked on the bed, on all fours, letting his strong and beautiful gringo with a square jaw, take him. And Joe also, rather than possibly being with an old and dirty Indian woman, was happier having again found that colt full of yearning and mounted him. "Yes, I too am a faggot, and then?" Joe was telling himself while he was hammering in the welcoming little ass of the former novice, "as long as I have such a beautiful boy at my disposal, I have no problems..." The young man had finally accepted, with this unexpected new encounter, his sexuality, and he was totally enjoying it, with mutual, full satisfaction. ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 7 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------