Hi all - thanks very much to those who took a moment to write me after my last story, "Jeff and the yacht". Its really encouraging to hear you liked that one, so here's my second effort.
Since Mormons have been getting some bad press lately here in the US, I thought I'd share my experience of being Mormon and I think you'll see, some Mormons are worth getting to know better. So next time you're protesting, don't yell or throw stuff... just give them a hug. You'll both like it much more than fighting. As with my last story, this is based on true events in my past...(except for the sex ;).
My train pulled up slowly to the rural and very rustic station. It was raining heavily outside and I wasn't looking forward to stepping out onto the platform. Today was Transfer day and I was being transferred from a sunny, coastal resort, to a cold, inland mining town. In other words from heaven to hell. As a missionary for my church we didn't have any say in where we went or who we were asked to serve with, we just went where we were told. This transfer was a surprise and I was pretty angry about it. In my prior area I was a Leader, but in this cold hell-hole I would just be an ordinary missionary again. Since I was hard-working, very knowledgeable and had seen some success, I thought I deserved much better treatment than this nasty place. I was also upset I was leaving a group of missionaries I worked with and had become good friends with in my last area. In this new place it would be just me and my new "companion". You may know, Mormon Elders travel in pairs...and right now with the rain coming down in sheets, I wryly wondered if my companion and I should start looking for an Ark.
After the train stopped, I hauled my suitcase out onto the wet platform. I noticed a soaked stranger in a full length trench coat and hat covering most of his face. We were standing in the pouring rain.
"Hi Elder. Welcome to Ballarindigo!" said this overly happy young man. He thrust forward his hand to shake mine, then he quickly grabbed my bags and scooted toward the nearest shelter. Taken by surprise, I realized I should either follow him or say good bye to my only worldly possessions forever. I took a moment to weigh my options...and after letting out a sigh, hustled after him.
Inside the shelter, Elder Pawsen took off his hat and I got to see his face for the first time. He was a skinny, American guy about 19 yrs old. His hair was regulation short but cut unevenly and sticking out in random directions. His ears stood out from his head and were bright pink from the cold air. His face was marred by some pretty serious acne, at once red and shiny in places, scarred and scabbed in others. Most interesting however were his shy and questioning eyes. He looked me over and again stuck out his hand to make proper introductions.
"I'm Elder Pawson and you must be Elder Stone?" he said, trying to sound friendly.
"Yes," I gruffly responded. I'm sure the look on my face said how I was feeling. Already angry at the transfer, here I found myself in this drenched muddy hole with this ugly kid for my companion. His eyes scanned me again but I'm pretty sure the look on my face told my sad, sorry tale. He quickly broke his gazed and sat down on a nearby bench.
"Where's the car?" I asked naievely.
"Um, well, " he nervously responded, "We're on bikes here." He said pointing to two relics of tangled steel with wheels.
"Oh crap!" I cussed, now unable to contain my feelings. It just kept getting worse and worse. I had come from areas with cars, the bike-thing was 'old-style' missionary work.
"When the rain dies down a little, I'll carry your bags on my bike and you can ride the other one back to the apartment". he said trying to be helpful.
"No way am I riding in this weather, " I said arrogantly. "We're getting a car." I quickly strode off and looked for a taxi.
My companion didn't respond to my demand, but he dutifully followed while doing his best to carry my bags. We bundled my belongings and the bicycles into a taxi and headed off to our apartment. It didn't occur to me then, but earlier that day my companion had carried both bikes to the station to pick me up. He must have wheeled them awkwardly through the rain the three miles from our apartment and for his trouble, he didn't get a word of thanks from me. I was too occupied with my own problems.
Once inside the apartment, I stripped off my raincoat and deposited my unopened bags in the bedroom. Wanting to get to work immediately, I asked where their "Area Book" was located. An area book is a record of the missionary activities in an area. Who they were visiting, what charities they worked with and a list of local church members who could help out if necessary. Pawson scurried over to the desk in the living room and started rustling through papers.
"Hold on there dude, " I yelled a bit too loudly. "You're getting water all over the floor and desk!" I pointed to the trail of drips coming off him and pooling in the table. He was soaked through to the bone and not just his thin raincoat.
"Oh I'm really sorry" he quickly reacted and tried to grab some paper to blot up the water.
"Let me do that, "I interjected, taking the paper from his hands. "You go get dry" It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and I was getting frustrated with this guy.
He went into the bathroom and stripped off the wet clothes. I could hear them dropping, soggy into the tub. A minute later he emerged, naked but with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stood there nervously looking at me with his penetrating eyes. Apologetic, he was searching for some small sign of compassion or even just friendship from me.
"I'm dry now" he said softly. "I can help you find the area book" he offered as he approached me. Getting closer, I could see he had a nicely defined chest. Not overly muscular but enough to stretch out his milky pale skin. He had a smooth chest and his sweet pecs were accented with nice fleshy nipples. Looking lower I noticed his tight abdomen and barely a hint of treasure trail leading down under the towel. As he walked toward me, I could see his pretty large meat was swinging freely under that towel. In just a few seconds he was standing next to me, looking over my shoulder. I was sitting at the table having found the book while he was in the bathroom. Already into its pages I didn't need any help.
"Oh, " he said. The disappointment in his voice evident. "I see you found it already."
"Yes." I said, looking him up and down, "...and would you like to put some clothes on?" I responded too harshly. Looking up into his eyes again, he looked vulnerable and rejected.
"Um yeah. Sorry." he said softly and turned to walk into the bedroom to get dressed into dry clothes.
I felt bad. It wasn't his fault I was in such a bad mood. It wasn't his fault I was here. He had tried the best he could to be cheery and helpful and this was turning out to be a horrible day. I was beginning to hate Ballarindigo. Watching my companion leave the room, I couldn't help but notice how his firm ass filled the back of that towel. I guess the bike was really good for that, giving him one of the sweetest bubble butts that I had ever seen.
Determined to make a new start, over the next few days I tried hard to get to know my new companion. He was from Utah and was the 11th child of 13 kids. It turns out that coming from a large family like that makes it tough to get to know your parents very well, so his best and closest friend was his big sister who practically raised him. His family wasn't very well off and he wasn't afraid of hard work. And boy did we work hard. Over the next few weeks we were out of the apartment for 12 hours every day. Knocking doors gave us the opportunity to talk to each other while walking between houses, (kind of like how guys talk playing golf...hit the ball...chat lots...hit again...chat lots). I began to really enjoy my time with him. He had a good sense of humor and we laughed together often. He was a simple guy with warm simple values. He cared about people and really wanted to serve them. We grew close during that time.
Early one day as we were going through our morning routine I offered to help him a little. As I said before, his hair looked a little unkempt and didn't suit him. He was standing in front of the mirror barechested, wearing his towel. I came up behind him and putting my hands on his shoulders, lightly massaging them I asked,
"Can I have a try doing your hair today?" He shrugged and passed me the comb. Taking his comb in my hand and adding a little styling gel I tidied his mop into a stylish do. His faced brightened up and his huge smile told me he liked his new look. Spinning around he wrapped his arms around me and hugged.
"This looks great Elder Stone. Thanks very much". His sincerity was touching. I wondered if I was the first person to ever care about him and his looks. I held him tightly and hugged back.
The next day I suggested he use a special medicated soap on his face and within a few days the acne started to clear up. It was amazing to me that showing this guy some affection was really paying off in so many ways. People would comment on how much better and happier he was looking. His confidence was improving, he was getting better looking every day and we were getting along so well.
One morning I awoke feeling awfully sick, I was prone to strep throat and this particular morning I knew I was in trouble. I could feel I had a temperature, my tonsils were engorged making eating impossible and my whole body ached. Trying to sit up in bed made me dizzy, so I slumped back down.
"What's wrong Stone?" Pawson asked. His bed was on the other side of the room like a college dorm and he had noticed immediately I wasn't acting myself. Jumping out of bed, he came over to me. We slept in our white underwear, white t-shirt and long boxer/briefs. They covered so much we didn't feel at all uncomfortable only wearing those walking around our apartment. (They also had the added benefit of tightly hugging a nice set of buns and accenting a juicy sweet man-package.)
"Are you ok? You look pale." He asked hovering over me and putting his hand on my cheek. I could see the concern in his face.
"I think I've got a cold or something, but I should be ok". I answered trying to minimize the pain.
"You stay right here and stay warm, I'll take care of everything." He told me. Then he calmly and confidently took charge and there was nothing I could do but accept it. First he turned up the heat in the apartment and made me a warm drink in the kitchen. Sitting on the side of my bed, he carefully administered it to me sip by sip. When I had drunk enough, he tucked me back in and instructed me to sleep a little more. Later, I could hear him in the living room calling all our appointments for that day and rescheduling them. I slipped in and out of consciousness many times that day, but I still caught glimpses of him coming to check on me frequently.
Sometimes he would stand at the door and look in at me, other times he would come up to the bed and rest his cool hand on my forehead. For lunch he brought me chicken soup and spoon fed it to me. I should mention here, that I knew we didn't have any chicken soup in the whole place and it remains a mystery to me where he got it! But this man was my white angel who cared for me when I needed it. I could feel something special between us but I didn't know if this was his love of service or if it was something more special and personal, to me. One thing I did know was that I was beginning to have some serious feelings for him. I was falling in love.
I was down for a couple of days and he cared for me constantly. Late one night, we had already said our nightly prayers together kneeling on the floor in the middle of our room. Then he crawled up into his bed, but I wasn't ready for sleep yet. I felt a need to tell him, at least partially, how I felt. In the dark, I shuffled over to his bed and knelt beside it so I could speak to him at face-level.
"Pawson, "I said, looking at his face through the bark shadows. "You are really amazing." I said gratefully.
"Nah, not at all" he dismissed. "I didn't do anything really. I should be thanking you!" He surprised me with that.
"What for?" was my natural reaction.
"Before you came here, there wasn't anything much happening. Now we're helping lots of people in this community and on top of that you've become one of my best friends." he said softly.
"What you've done for me has been the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." I said, wanting him to know how I felt.
"Nah. You don't need anything from a dork like me. I'm not special at all. I don't have anything to offer anyone." He said. Maybe coming from a big family had hadn't had much experience with love and affection. I could see the moonlight glistening in his eyes as they started to well with tears.
"That's not true." I refuted. I moved my left hand up to his brow and caressed his forehead. "You've been so kind to me," I said, "... taking care of my every need. You even offered to help carry me to the toilet when I was too dizzy to stand!" I tried to laugh a little to break the tension.
"I'd do anything to help you Stone." He said so genuinely I knew he truly meant it. I brought my right hand up to his stomach and laid it there. Stroking gently, my hand worked its way under his shirt and to his bare skin. I caressed his torso with one hand and his face with the other as I spoke.
"You have the kindest heart of anyone I have ever known." I paused, wanting it to sink in. "You are more caring and loving than any other person I have ever met. Sometimes I wish I could be just like you." Never one to easily show kindness, he had defiantly taught me the value of love and service. It was true, I did wish I could be more like him.
His soft skin against my hand felt so warm and smooth. I traced his belly button and lightly ran my fingers over his abdomen. Gently I could feel the light silk of the soft hair that led down from his belly button into his boxers. My hand, unguided followed the trail to his waistband.
I suddenly realized where I was and that I was another missionary. Oh my god - what was I doing? I stopped immediately and withdrew both hands. I had caught myself at a terrible moment. I quickly muttered a form of "goodnight" and retreated to my own bed.
Once under the safety of my blankets, I realized that my own dick was harder than its ever been, pushing out the front of my underwear. At the tip, it had wet the cotton of my boxers with a large drop of leaking pre-cum. How could I be so careless? I was furious at myself and upset that maybe I had ruined our friendship forever. I felt like I had betrayed my sweet, innocent friend with my worldly and lustful desires. I didn't deserve his friendship and I vowed in silent prayer never to touch him again.
About a week later, (I was feeling much better by this time) we had come home from a long day working and we were both exhausted. It was past 9:30 pm and as had become our custom we slipped out of our suits and white shirts to relax in the apartment in our skivvies. Pawson lay down on the living room floor and stretched out. He sometimes did that, but I never knew why. Finally I casually asked him.
"Hey mate, what are you doing? Why do you lie of the floor like that?"
"My back is killing me," he responded, his face buried in the carpet.
After all this time, he had never mentioned his own pains or discomfort and I was just learning about his bad back now. I'm sure he knew every stupid pain I complained about, but this was the first time I ever hear him say he was in pain.
"Sometimes riding the bike irritates it, " Pawson continued, "and carrying the bag is rough too." We carried our heavy scriptures in our backpacks. Pawson had volunteered to carry extra Bibles to pass out to needy strangers, and I guess I stupidly assumed he just liked carrying extra in his backpack. He was now paying the price for his offer of help.
"Oh jeez dude, if I had known I would have insisted I carry the bibles!" I said apologetically. Turning his face to me with a smile, he replied,
"I know you would have."
Just learning that he voluntarily suffered this frequent pain, so I didn't have to carry the extra weight on my own back was very touching for me. I dropped was I was doing and immediately knelt beside him.
"Can I do anything to help?" I offered. Gently I started to rub his back for him with my hands.
"That feels nice." He exhaled and relaxed in my firm hands. I worked on his back and shoulders. I could feel the tight knots he kept and I pushed and kneaded them till they began to smooth out. My hands started feel a little raw working through his white t-shirt, so he allowed me to remove it. I continued working on his long and muscular back.
Getting a little tired from leaning over his body, I put one leg over him and sat down on his buttocks facing his upright back. With my knees on each side of him, I could lean forward and rub from the top of his spine to the bottom in one smooth motion. Again and again I reached up and dragged my hands down his bare back. I don't know what happened but this movement took me to an almost hypnotic state, as the room around me disappeared. All I was aware of was an intense rush of pleasure that engulfed my whole body in waves. Rush....rush....rush... over my whole body, I had never felt anything like it before.
I quickly snapped back to reality and was horrified to learn the source of my existential pleasure. My now hardened cock had worked its way down to fit nicely between the globes of Pawson's ass. Although we were both wearing our boxers, my massage motion had caused my firm cock to glide smoothly along his crack, up and down. In effect I was dry fucking him and I was completely unaware I was doing it. Again, the front of my boxers were damp as a huge spot of pre-cum was now bubbling up like a pearl through the material.
Alarmed at my situation I leapt to my feet, saying something like 'I hoped he felt better" and I rushed to the bedroom before he could see my exposed state. Oh no! The dread of what I had done now overcame me. I hated myself, a disgusting pervert taking advantage of an innocent guy like Pawson for my own carnal sins. I had betrayed our friendship, betrayed our love. I wasn't worthy to be here or even be his friend. Such intense feelings of self-loathing came into my head and I realized what I was, had a name. I was a fag. Gay. A dirty disgusting poofter, a lower form of life than anything on the planet. Destined to a life of misery, I loved Pawson too much to corrupt him to be like me. I had to stay away from him. That was it, if I truly loved him I would save him from *me*.
I was under the covers of my bed in the dark when he came into the room.
"What's wrong?" he asked innocently. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?" said Pawson. He reached for the light switch...
"No. Leave it off." I begged. With tears on my face, I couldn't have him see me like this. "Go away, I'm fine. Just having a bad night." I tried to pretend I'd be ok.
"I won't go away." He insisted and walked over to my bed. He was still bare-chested and I watched his lithe body walk towards me. He knelt down on the floor beside me.
I stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He stayed where he was refusing to budge. After a few minutes, without warning he put his head down on my chest. Like most everything Pawson did, it felt a little awkward but the sentiment was clear. I knew he was trying to tell me it was OK, he loved me and we would get through it. I stroked his hair.
"I'm really afraid." I choked out after several minutes. He lifted his head to look at me. Our lips just inches apart, he responded,
"Why? What could you be afraid of?"
Choking on tears, I tried, "You. Me. Us. ." I knew I wasn't making any sense. I was a blubbering fool on the verge of a bottomless cavern of unhappiness. "I don't want to....do anything to hurt..." I continued, still searching for words.
"Shhhh" he said, and pressed his finger to my lips. Carefully he lifted my blanket and slipped into my bed beside me. He pressed his body up against me. I could feel the sleekness of his slim body. I rolled over to face him as he leaned in to give me my first kiss. It was soft but passionate. He kept his eyes open and in the dim light I could see in them a question... was this ok? I reached my hand over his back and down to cup his firm ass cheek. So perfect. I kissed deeper and he matched my efforts. His eyes smiled, knowing I had answered him.
My hands explored his exposed torso and his back. He reached down and lifted my t-shirt over my head, then he went down and brushed against my raging rod. He started to kiss down my neck and then my chest. Taking a moment to nuzzle my nipples, I could see he was going to enjoy every inch of me.
This was taboo, evil and in the back of my mind I feared what consequences may exist... but tonight this was our apartment. This was our time and we were alone. We could do whatever we wanted.
My chest had a light covering of hair, but at 20 yrs old the hair was still young and felt soft. He moved his fingers down my chest, to my snail trail and then into my boxers. There he discovered I was sporting serious wood and leaking cum uncontrollably. Like a dog might drool over a Thanksgiving turkey stolen from the family table, my cock had a hunger it needed to feed. Taking my penis in his hand, he tugged gently like he was introducing himself to it. He continued down to my tight scrotum and cupped me fully into his hand. I especially enjoyed his lightly tickling me behind my balls with his fingertips. I guess he was telling me he was enjoying himself. I pushed him back a little and asked,
"Are you sure you want this?" I knew if we kept going, we'd be beyond the point of no return quickly.
"Yes. I want you." came the reply.
I couldn't believe my ears. Never have simple words carried so much meaning to my soul. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything. Reaching down, I slid his boxers to his knees and exposed his beautiful cock. I rubbed my hands up and down its length. My hands explored his smooth thighs and tight ass, and bringing my face down to it. I opened my mouth and took in just the head. I had wanted to go slowly, but the taste of prick head was so overwhelming I had to have more. I slid further down the shaft wanting more of him inside me. His dick was longer than mine at around 7 inches and it was an amazing meal. I sucked on it deeply and could taste his pre-cum at the back of my throat. Behind him, my fingers explored his tight pucker, rubbing gently. As my lips and throat were taking him to new heights of ecstasy on his penis, it seemed like his man-pussy almost opened and welcome in my probing finger. Simultaneously I finger fucked him from behind and sucked and bobbed on his cock bringing him to an explosive finish in my mouth. I tried hard to swallow his creamy load, but being inexperienced at this, it mostly ended up dribbling down my chin and onto my chest.
Now it was his turn to lick my engorged phallus. He found it easier to kneel beside the bed and lick it up and down from all angles. I couldn't last long after having just tasted his semen so I told him,
"I'm gonna cum" thinking he would jump out of the way. Instead his mouth closed over my dick and he milked it with his throat sucking every drop of man-juice out of me.
"Oh god!" I squealed. "You are amazing." I wrapped my arms around him tightly and we snuggled in my bed.
"You are amazing yourself." He said laying his head on my pillow beside me.
"I was so afraid when I started having feelings for you. I had no idea you might be..." I hesitated, not knowing how to finish the sentence. I have never called myself "gay" before, how could I call my lover a name that only meant shame to me.
"...in love with you too?" he finished for me. He kissed me again on the lips.
...
That's when I learned. It doesn't matter what you call it... gay or straight. Love is love, and at that moment in my life I loved Pawson intensely. I still think about him sometimes and remember how much I loved to rub his back.