Ever since Elder Land left home and arrived in the MTC, he’d been constantly surrounded by dozens of young men like him. Hormonal teenagers, all conservatively dressed and groomed, all looking and sounding the same. The lack of privacy set him into a state of total psychosexual lockdown, unable to find any release. Even showers were group showers. And being around the handsome, older MTC teachers were only making it worse. Land had known for a long time that he liked men, especially older men, but never acted on it. Until recently he’d never even told anyone about it. But one day his very persuasive and friendly MTC president managed to get him to admit his secret feelings.
“Struggling with same-sex attraction” was how they agreed to describe it. And the prescription was the same as always: pray more, stay busy, and never, ever indulge. Land knew that meant that even masturbation was off the table, but he was determined to do right by his leaders and the church. Once he was down with the program and onto his mission, he and his new companion spent that first day meeting the local Mormon authorities. It was a warm, summer day, and the two boys were baking in their tightly knotted ties and matching Mormon underwear. They hadn’t even been to their new apartment yet before the two boys came face to face with the ultimate test of Elder Land’s will: Bishop Gibson.
Bishop Gibson was younger than most Bishops Land had interacted with, but still a decade older than the boy. His hair was the color of dried wheat, like a dark gold. His smile was bright and full, moving his well-trimmed beard to expose his perfect teeth. And when he reached out to shake his hand, Land could see the blond hairs of his forearm break free from his rolled up sleeve. Elder Land though to himself, Shit. He’s hot! Elder Land had always had a thing for older guys, and Bishop Gibson was more than he could handle in his frustrated state. As soon as the boys found their apartment and settled in, Land’s companion immediately rushed to take a shower. Elder Land removed his clothes, relieved from the heat to be down to just his garments. And as he sat on the bed that would be his, he realized: he was finally alone.
Against his nobler intentions, his mind rushed with thoughts of Bishop Gibson. He could practically still feel his hand gripping his own. He recalled every detail he observed, wanting desperately to see him again. And despite his efforts, he became painfully aware of three truths: Gibson was his weakness, he hadn’t jerked off in weeks, and for the first time in ages, he was finally alone. As if his penis were similarly aware, his loins began to swell before the boy even placed his hands in his garment bottoms. He didn’t want to, but he’d been desperate. During his abstinence, he’d been plagued by frequent wet dreams, soiling his garments and leaving him ashamed of his desires. Perhaps this one indulgence would quiet his mind.
He kept an eye on the bathroom, hoping to better hear the sound of the rushing water, giving him a sense of how much time he had to enjoy the feeling of his erection. The fear of being caught was almost as powerful as his yearning for Bishop Gibson, and soon his fantasies and anxieties were wrapped up together, forcing him to envision the handsome man standing beneath the shower head, rinsing off from the hot, summer day. Elder Land closed his eyes and tried to imagine him, standing tall and handsome as beads of water dripped down his body. Despite having never seen him naked, he could practically see the delicate pattern of chest hair on his torso. He wondered if it was dark like his hair or light like his arms.
As he continued to jerk off, he pulled his penis out through his garment bottoms, running his hands over his chest, fantasizing the tips of fingers were running down the older man’s chest at MISSIONARY BOYS. Land’s body was different, though. Smoother, leaner, less developed. Still, it felt good. Land’s mouth watered imaging Gibson’s chest hair trailing down his stomach, landing in a soft patch of pubic hair just above his penis. As his imagination went south, so did his hands. He licked his fingers with his panting, salivating mouth, lubricating them for his anus. He teased his hole as he stroked, still hearing the water and picturing the beautiful golden bishop.
His body heated up with each stroke, causing him to passionately writhe in his bed, strumming his hole like the strings of a guitar, slowly building up the urge to cum inside. Getting on all fours, he rested his arms on the headboard, arching his back to give his ass room to stand out. His wet fingers navigated his hole further and further until the tip of one made its way inside. Elder Land imagined the older man’s cock, hard and wet. He imagined what it would be like to feel him press just the head inside. Elder Land had never been with a man, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of being penetrated. He wanted this man to own him, teach him, and fuck him.
One finger soon gave way to two as the horny missionary continued to pleasure himself in his rare solitude. His smooth hole and hard cock worked in tandem to drive himself wild. Visions of Bishop Gibson filled his mind, giving him the sensation of vibrating as he edged himself closer and closer to cumming. He could have cum two or three times already from simply feeling his erection, but the wave he was riding was too powerful. And as long as the water was flowing, he wanted to keep it going…
