Date: Fri, 04 May 2018 19:22:00 +0000 From: Jack Dawson Subject: The Mercenary. Part Three Gay: Adult/Youth; Authoritarian The Mercenary. By Jackdaw Part Three: Brazzaville, Republic of the Congo August 1997 Lieutenant Clovis Favre was feeling hungry. But not for food. Stretched out under his mosquito net he was a magnificent specimen. Thirty years of age and in the prime of life. Tall. Broad. Strong. His mediterranean skin naturally bronzed, his chest hairy. His forearms, like the rest of his lithe frame, knotted with honed muscle. There wasn't any fat on him. He scratched his balls absent-mindedly and skinned back his cock, feeling horny. His cock was legendary, even in the Legion. It was a blessing and a curse: the Hammer of Clovis it was called behind his back by the soldiers who'd seen it. It was as thick as a baby's arm with a fat mushroom head. When Favre was very turned on by his prey his 9.5 inches would cause tears and cries and far too often he had to settle for less than he wanted - leaving him frustrated and dissatisfied. Favre fucked women and he fucked men. He'd suck cock but he didn't enjoy the taste of pussy. He didn't like a woman's softness either and held their manipulative tactics in contempt. But he knew he was attractive and it suited him to be thought of as a pussy hound. But he wasn't interested in women. They held no place in the life he'd chosen for himself. He enjoyed the company of men. He especially enjoyed the company of soldiers who were straight-up and frank. And in the Legion there was even less of the rank and ceremony bullshit which the regular army made you put up with. He'd joined them at 18 after the Baccalauréat and was one of the few commissioned officers that had come up through the regular, non-commissioned ranks. The Legion had saved him from himself. He was eternally grateful. Fucked up, violent and starting to be sexually aggressive with the girls he fucked, Favre needed structure, self-respect, discipline and a cause. And he found all four in the Legion. Sex with men was more complicated. His grandfather had been the worst kind of sexual predator, Favre knew that, and he still hated himself for the two successive summers betwee the ages of 9 and 11 when he had allowed himself to be preyed on, raped and abused by him. As soon as his first hairs began to grown, his grandfather had lost interest. But it was too late for Favre. >From then on his deepest and most urgent sexual appetite had been fixed. Only two things turned him on and gave him that thrill, that knot of anticipation in his stomach, that deep hunger and desire looking for sexual release: One was getting fucked by older men and the other was a wilder, secret, less-controllable desire he'd not yet dared act upon; the hunt for and domination of boys in the way he himself had been. His fantasies were fixated on both - older men fucking boys - and by the time basic training had finished and the new recruits were allowed off base for the first time in 8 weeks, Favre knew where he was going: to Marseille. To get laid. His camarades were heading off base looking for pussy but he'd cried off and said he'd join them next time but that he had to go and see his Mother. Six hours later in a cheap hotel a stone's throw from the Gare St Charles, 18 year old Favre was being fucked up the arse by the silver-haired buisness-man he'd picked up in the station. He was drunk on the smell of sweat, cum, piss, shit and cheap cologne. He arched his back commanding the fifty year old to fuck him harder. He felt the smooth coolness of the man's wedding ring as their hand's gripped each other as he was fucked face down on the bed. The man hadn't used protection and didn't pull out. When Favre made to get off the bed to go clean himself up the man pushed him back down on the mattress and said, "Wait." Favre felt the man's breath on his arse and then the amazing feeling of being rimmed as the cum was sucked back out of his hole. He thrust back into the man's face and enjoyed the sensations. What he wasn't expecting was to be kissed immediately after and to receive a mouth of cum tasting of his own shit. He gagged and the man laughed and bit Favre's lip hard and told him to swallow it. And Favre had swallowed it, getting turned on at the filthiness of the moment as they kissed some more. As they lay on the bed afterwards they talked family. "Yep. Two children. Girl of nine and a boy of twelve." "He got any hairs yet?" asked Favre - reddening suddenly when he realise what he was saying. After a pointed silence during which Favre could have kicked himself for betraying himself so stupidly, the man whispered into his ear, "Completely hair free." Involuntarily Favre's cock started to harden and he heard a chuckle at his ear. "If you liked them young, too, you should have told me." Favre couldn't speak with the embarassment of being found out. And the man laughed out loud and told him not to sweat it. "Just be careful. And a word of advice: If you like them young, don't go hunting in your own back yard. Stick to places where you're just passing through." Favre just nodded, his dick wilting with embarassment. The man laughed again as he moved down the bed: "And I pity the boy who's going to have to deal with this monster!" "Just passing through," remembered Favre as he scratched his balls on his bunk. Brazzaville was basically chaos. Had been for two months. Had been forever, probably. But since the Civil War had started a couple months ago, and France, the old colonial power, had sent the Legion to secure the airport and to try and keep order, the city itself was free from fighting. The Legion were there to intimidate and remind the local population not to try anything shit-crazy like in Rwanda. Only 20,000 deaths so far and the end of the war was clearly in sight. This counted as a success story in colonial black Africa. Favre knew they'd be rolling out before too long. His thoughts turned to enjoying himself. He needed to fuck. He was hungry for sex. He knew the whores were only ten minutes away but he also knew they were almost certainly disease-ridden skanks. Besides, black Africans didn't really turn him on. He didn't like their smell. And poor black African women repulsed him most of all. That was just the way it was; Favre didn't analyse it. But it didn't help his hungry cock much. Sure, he'd noticed the dazzling smiles and the smooth black bodies of the boys who came around the barracks to admire the French soldiers and their weapons. He wondered what it would be like to fuck one and whether a 10 year old in the Congo would be as hung as an adult back in France. It was the regiment chaplain who provided the answer to Favre's problem: "Lieutenant. The local parish want to know if some of the soldiers can come to the orphanage and play football with the boys. Can you ask a few volunteers if they can come this Sunday?" "Not only that, padre, but I'll come myself," replied Favre, "See if we can't make ourselves useful in other ways, too." Two days later 8 Legionnaries, their padre and their lieutenant made their way to the Orphanage House of Hope home to 50 boys and 35 girls up to the age of 14 to play a football match. Favre went in to predation mode. He was looking for the shy one, hanging back but fascinated by him and vulnerable to attention from an impressive adult. He estimated he had a month before their orders to leave came through. His own hand would have to do the job of pleasure until he could replace it with two smaller ones. And a mouth. And for the rest he'd just have to see how far he could go: Five inches, six, maybe seven he laughed to himself. It was good to be on the hunt again. And whilst the blacks weren't a turn on he was sure there'd be one, at least one, vulnerable and desperate for attention who would get his dick hard and demanding. And he knew from experience that his cock would have its demands fully met and satisfied - one way or another...