Missionary
Positions
by Ashley
Hardric ©2005
ahardric@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. That means it is not true.
Didn’t happen. It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in
the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed. The
author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about
it. Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but
my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in. Be
safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are
of age and location to do so legally.
**This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced
elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive) without his
permission.**
*******************
The earnest young Mormon missionary sat next to me on the
oversized sofa in my living room, explaining something about the road
to salvation. He was just beginning his two years of LDS mission
work, after his high school graduation the month before. His face
had the soft look of not needing to shave much, and a couple of little
zits emphasized his youth. His hair was short and blonde, and a
bit curly. He wore the obligatory white shirt and tie, the shirt
nearly too small and tight across his undeveloped chest, the tie
inexpertly tied. He held a Bible in his lap, open to some
passage. I pretended to listen, but actually was simply concerned
with getting into his chinos, where I could see the outline of
impressively ample young meat and balls beneath the lightweight
fabric. I interrupted him. “Which passage did that come
from?”
He showed me the passage on the page. I put my hand on the
book and asked about some other verse at the bottom of the page, moving
my hand down the book. He was explaining something and I shifted
my hand from book to thigh so that he could read from the bottom of the
page. I leaned lightly on his leg. “Do you think God
approves of things that feel good?” I asked, moving my hand around the
smooth slacks. “Do you think He would make things feel really
good if He did not want us to enjoy them? Surely God made things
feel good so that we would want to do them more.”
The boy did not know how to react, but his penis did. His
slacks were immediately taking on a definite tent-like shape, an
obvious pole beginning to protrude straight from his crotch. I
guessed he must be wearing boxers; he was obviously unencumbered by
briefs. I put my arm around his thin shoulders, and continued
caressing his thighs with my other hand. He sort of molded his
body against mine and laid his head against my shoulder, as my fingers
brushed his crotch, feeling the firm curves of his balls, tracing the
oval shapes below the steadily rising cock.
“God created us in His image, right?” I went on. “And so He
must know what feels good, wouldn’t you think? And we’re supposed
to model ourselves after Him as much as we can, right?”
My hand now had reached the tent-pole, and the boy was breathing
hard. A wet spot appeared and spread on his slacks at the end of
the pole. I stroked the prominent erection a bit, and then
wrapped my fingers around it. “Don’t you think God knows how good
this feels?” I asked as I gave him a squeeze and stroked some more.
“I think...” he began, but faltered with a gasp when I hit a
sensitive place. The wet spot was rapidly expanding, and the wet
cloth was taking on the shape of his swollen head. Had I known
less about male machinery, I would have thought he was peeing
himself. Fortunately, I knew better.
“God knows everything. He knows how much pleasure you are
feeling now. He knows what you feel like every time you cum in
your pants. He knows what you are going to feel like when I take
your penis out and hold it in my hands. He knows what you are
going to feel like when you suck my cock in your mouth, and when you
take it up your ass!” And with that I unbuckled his belt,
unbuttoned his pants and tugged down his zipper. I had been
wrong. He did not have on boxers; he wore no underwear at
all. His young meat stood straight from a rather small patch of
tight blonde curls, his abdomen otherwise smooth and so flat it was
nearly concave. Precum oozed copiously, and I rubbed it around
his swollen head.
“We better get this white shirt off,” I said. “We wouldn’t
want to have to explain cum stains on it, would we?” I pulled off
his tie and unbuttoned the shirt, stroking his chest as I did
so. He shrugged it off his slender shoulders and I helped
pull it off. I ran my hands across his smooth chest, the pecs not
much developed, the nipples, however, matching his cock in firmness.
“Let’s do the sucking part first,” I said, and pulled his naked
shoulders down to my lap. He laid his head on my thigh and his
hand on my crotch. He squeezed my hard dick as I opened my pants,
and, needing no urging at all, took me into his mouth. He
commenced licking and sucking with such skill it was obvious he was a
novice only at doing missionary visits. As he sucked, I explored
his perfect, smooth shoulders, back, buns, and sides. He still
had the slender, firm body of adolescence; his waist probably no bigger
than 28”, the narrow shoulders still broadening. He was gorgeous,
and his tongue was talented, and I was nearly ready to shoot sooner
than I expected. I pulled him up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern in his eyes. “Did I do
something wrong?”
“No, you did everything exactly right. But, let’s try the
other part now. Lie back with your knees up and kick off your
shoes.” When he had reclined, I pulled the slacks off his thin
hairless legs, exposing his pale body to total view. His hard
prick stood above his blond curls at a firm 30 degrees, and a steady
trickle of precum pooled onto his smooth belly. I stood up for a
moment to shed my own pants and shirt, and then, raising his legs
toward his shoulders, I lay over him, my spit-slick penis pressing
against his hot ass. I scooped up some precum and applied
additional lube, then increased the pressure, and felt my engorged head
slip into his perfect butt. I pushed in fully, right to the base
of my penis, and then began to seriously fuck him. As each stroke
of my swollen head stimulated his prostate, he moaned with
ecstasy. As I thrust in and pulled out, I grabbed his still rock
hard and very slippery penis and began jacking him in time with my
strokes. When I began shooting my load deep within his ass, he
also shot his hot cum onto his chest, and mine.
I collapsed on top of him, and we lay in a cummy embrace for some
minutes. Then I said, “Do you think God knew what he was doing
when he created us with penis and asshole?”
He answered, “If God isn’t gay, he sure knew how to fake it.”
“Either way, works for me,” I said. I kissed him, and then
slid off him. “Time for a shower. You can’t go out covered
in cum.” I gave him my hand and pulled him to his feet. We
walked to the bathroom, where we shed sox, and stepped into the hot
shower. I began soaping his thin body; he mirrored my
ministrations.
“I think God sent me to you,” he said. “I didn’t think I
was ready to go out on my own, but this morning in the shower I had
this overpowering thought of ‘just do it.’ Then I found I was out
of underwear, and again I had that ‘just do it’ thought in my
head. So I figured what the heck, I’ll give it a shot. You
were the first one who answered the door.”
I had him well lathered, and by the time I reached his crotch, he
was hard again, as was I. “Well, we’ve definitely
got something to give thanks for,” I said, rinsing the soap off
him. “In fact, I think I should get down on my knees right
now.” I dropped to my knees and took his perfectly straight
hardness into my mouth. As I began sucking, he grabbed my head
and began face fucking, and together we created a rhythm that brought
him to another orgasm with expected teenage speed. His body was
so out of control, he spurted some hot cum into my mouth, and some onto
my face, and then some more back into my mouth before his climax
finished. I pulled him down to my level, and with hot water
streaming over our backs, shared the taste of his orgasm. He
kissed his way down to my groin, and resumed the blowjob I had
redirected earlier. His hot mouth and delicate tongue brought me
to climax again, and I shot a load full into his eager mouth. He
sucked me dry, just as the cooling water brought us back to awareness
of things other than ourselves. We shut the water off and got out
of the tub. Drying each other was yet another sensuous process,
and his well used member began to erect yet again. We both knew
enough was enough for the morning, though, and continued getting
dressed. I gave him a pair of my Jockeys that had shrunk in the
wash to keep him somewhat better contained for the rest of his day, and
showed him a better way to tie his necktie.
Presentably attired some minutes later, he stepped out my front
door. “Thanks for coming,” I said, waving casually at my neighbor
who was watering her garden. “I enjoyed our visit.”
“Shall I come again tomorrow, then?” he asked, knowing the answer
as he asked.
“I’ll expect you around the same time,” I said.
“Cool,” he said. “I’ll tell you more about missionary
positions.”
The End