Missionary Position

Grady Marshall was a handsome young man of 20. To a point he was fashionably dressed, but his white shirt, his plain tie, his three piece suit, trilby hat and his black, never brown, ZCMI brogue shoes were about 20 years behind the times, but in 1970s and early 1980s Britain they were a semi-formal uniform for young Mormon missionaries, most of whom, like Grady, came from the States.

Grady had his entire life planned out. Complete his two year mission, return to his home in a small town not far from Salt Lake City where the Mormon church was headquartered, attend the church-owned BYU school, earn a degree, get married in the temple, either the Logan temple or the Salt Lake temple, get a good job, probably in sales.

Father a whole truckload of children, become a Bishop and generally live a good, worthy life, magnifying his callings and eventually becoming a God of his own world along with his wife, whoever she might be, in accordance with Mormon doctrine.

His older brother had done that and married a girl he had met at BYU after returning from his mission several years previously. They were already working on baby number three.

The joke was that returned missionaries went to BYU to earn their BA or BSc degree, but that the Molly Mormons went there to get their MRS degree by catching them a returned missionary.

His current missionary companion was slightly taller than Grady, but a little more homely in features. His nickname was Alfred because he looked as if the Mad Magazine mascot Alfred E. Neuman could have been based on him. His nickname was Alfred, obviously, but his given name was Paul Smith.

The two companions got on reasonably well, better than Grady's previous missionary companion, a young man with a very troubled past.

Rumour had it that a judge who was friendly with his family back in Utah had given the boy an option: Get his act together, get a Temple Recommend and get sent on a Mormon church mission or do jail time for his involvement in gang warfare in a less salubrious part of Salt Lake City.

Grady had always been nervous of sharing a room with Harvey Baines who got through missionary companions like other missionaries got through temple garments.

Things came to a head when a would-be thug in a car began harassing Harvey and Grady as they wheeled their bikes along an adjacent footpath. When the thug threatened them, Harvey beckoned to him saying, in a low, menacing tone: "Come on you limey punk. Let's see what you got."

The man quickly opened his car door, put his feet on the ground and let out a shriek of agony as Harvey had rushed the car door and slammed it into him, trapping his legs.

The mission's DL (District Leader) had taken the panicked call from Grady from a nearby phone box (no cell phones back in the day) and the District Leader quickly escalated the situation to the Zone Leader who reported back to the Mission President, Brother Foster Peterson, a grizzled veteran of his own mission as a young man and into the last of his three years as a Mission President.

As a military veteran (he'd served fifteen years in the army after returning from his mission) before going into corporate management, he'd dealt with similar incidents, but none as messy as this one.

He was able to smooth things over. Harvey wasn't charged with an offence, money had changed hands, in return for this courtesy he was quickly returned to the States on a plane, in disgrace. But that's another story.

And let's face it, Grady was relieved if not exactly happy to see the back of Harvey. A day later he met with his new companion, Paul Smith and they started tracting prospects in the small market town they were assigned to.

They shared a room in a boarding house owned by an elderly widow.

Within a couple of weeks Grady and Alfred had settled into a routine. Up early, reading their scriptures and praying and then going around the town and the surrounding smaller towns preaching the gospel or pestering people, depending on one's point of view.

One day Grady had ripped a hole in his spare pants, luckily a Sister in the Ward had a reputation as a good seamstress so they went to visit her one Wednesday afternoon.

He looked at her and was shocked to notice that, when not in her Sunday best clothing at church, she had a rather fulsome pair of breasts and was showing a rather large amount of cleavage, which Grady tried to ignore, but failed to do so.

Sister Mandy King had been a Mormon for several years, but her husband, Dave, although he'd also received the discussions from the missionaries on a compact portable reel-to-reel tape recorder and a film strip projector along with his wife in their home, he'd seemingly been inoculated against the Mormon virus as he mockingly described it, but not in his wife's hearing. He also didn't mind their two young children attending church with her, either.

Although he wasn't a believer in the Mormon faith, he didn't stand in the way of her being baptised in a Mormon chapel in a larger, fairly distant town, ferried there in a minibus driven by one of the older missionaries, accompanied by new converts like herself and supportive church members, mainly converts, too.

Mandy boiled a kettle and made Grady, Alfred, her sister Noreen, who along with Dave, wasn't a Mormon, and herself cups of Barley Cup, a truly dreadful and bitter replacement for the tea and coffee that Mormons were forbidden to drink by their Word of Wisdom doctrine.

She left her sister and Paul sitting in the kitchen chatting whilst Mandy took Grady into the lounge which was in the rear of the house, closing the door behind them. Dave was at work and unlikely to finish until 6pm.

Within ten minutes Mandy had sewn the tear, it was a fairly minor one, and she looked at Grady and was starting to feel a stirring in her loins.

"Elder Marshall, Grady, I noticed you peeking at my cleavage. I really don't mind. Would you like to see a little bit more of my breasts?"

Grady flushed. This had never happened to him before. He wanted to say no, but Mandy had taken his stunned silence as acquiescence and she slowly lifted her rather large breasts from the confines of her white top and her white, lacy bra.

"Would you like to touch them?" she asked, in a shy manner. She had realised that as a young Mormon kid he'd probably not even seen a woman's titties in real life, let alone touched them, so she realised she needed to gentle him along, slowly and kindly.

He nodded and reached his hands out, trembling a little as he did. Her breasts felt warm and whilst they were soft, paradoxically, they were also firm.

"You can kiss them, if you like," said Mandy, lifting her magnificent globes a little closer to his face. He complied. Then she added "Suckle on my nipples, please."

He suckled on them in turn and Mandy realised that he was becoming aroused and that his erection was growing rapidly. She reached down, gently stroked his groin with both hands and said: "I think we'd better let that out, don't you?"

He gulped, but did nothing to stop her unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. She kissed him on his lips and then she said: "Do you want to make love with me, Grady?"

He nodded, dumbly, unsure how he had gotten into this situation. Mandy helped him out of his pants and was intrigued to see that his underwear was of a very old-fashioned design. She realised that these must be the Mormon Temple Garments that some of the older, longer established Mormons in the ward she attended would whisper about as if they were some bizarre secret. Which, she thought, maybe they were?

Mandy hadn't yet visited the London Temple so hadn't received her endowments so didn't need to wear the special garments at present.

Mandy reached in through the opening at the front and freed his cock which, she noted with pleasure, was both thick and fairly long. A tiny bit longer than that of her husband Dave, she thought. Before thoughts of her husband could derail what she had in mind she suppressed any further considerations of Dave.

Whilst she fondled Grady's cock she started open mouthed kissing him. After a minute or so she stopped kissing him, undid the pop fasteners on her skirt, allowing it to drop to the floor. She stepped out of her panties, doffed her top and bra and stood naked before Grady.

"Like what you see?" she asked, confidently, her shy act of earlier a distant memory. "Oh, yes," said Grady, nodding.

Mandy stepped to the side of the sofa and with the flick of her right hand on the control lever it instantly converted into a bed.

"Make love to me, Grady. Make me your woman!"

He gazed at her body and said: "I'd love to, but I don't really know how!"

She grinned,kindly, and taking hold of his tie she said, breathily: "Let me show you."

She helped him swiftly divest himself of his clothes, Mandy then lay down on the sofa, opened her legs wide and pulled him toward her.

He half stumbled and half fell toward her. She grasped his cock and placed it in her already slippery vagina. She smiled up at him. "Just move it gently back and forward inside me. There's no need to rush. Just take your time."

He gasped and his eyes shot open. "I'm inside you, Sister King! Oh, wow! I never thought it could be like this!"

"Don't call me Sister King, Grady! That's for church. Call me Mandy, instead," she told him, giggling.

She mused to herself that, for his first time, he wasn't doing too badly.

"Mandy, will you get pregnant?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"No, I'm on the pill. You'll not get me pregnant, please stop worrying."

They carried on making love until, after several minutes of thrusting, Grady spent himself inside his lover.

She hadn't orgasmed yet so she decided to frig herself to a climax. The act of watching an attractive woman masturbate in front of him was fascinating to Grady.

They sat, side-by-side cuddling on the sofa and after kissing and cuddling for a while Mandy noticed that his cock was again erect. She realised that, being a fit young man, his refractory period was remarkably short.

She put her head in his lap and began sucking on his penis, taking it all the way down. If making love with an attractive woman had surprised him, having that woman take his penis right down to its root, blew his mind and his cock.

Mandy was many things, one of which was an expert cocksucker, she used her lips, her tongue, her mouth and her fingers to encourage Grady to squirt his load ejaculate right down her throat. He groaned with pleasure as she swallowed several times to capture his load, using her fingers to squeeze the last drops onto her tongue.

She kissed his cheek and grabbed a towel from the back of the sofa and wiped his cock. After they had dressed she reached into a glass bowl on a nearby table and pulled out a packet of Tic Tac Mints and popped a couple in her mouth.

She gave him a cheeky smile and said: "Can't risk my husband Dave smelling your spunk on my breath, can I?"

Grady shook his head, saying "No." He knew that he should be feeling guilty about having sexual intercourse with a married woman, but whilst he was on the sexual high of having two orgasms with a beautiful woman, he didn't actually give a damn.

As they cycled away from the house of Sister King, Alfred glanced at Grady. Alfred had spent the time in the kitchen with Mandy's sister Noreen talking about everything and nothing. Alfred thought that something had been happening between Grady and Sister King, but he couldn't get his head round the idea.

At church on the next Sunday Grady diffidently approached her. "Sister King, would it be OK if Elder Smith and I stopped by at your home on Wednesday afternoon, about the same time as last week?"

She smiled, shook hands with him, about the only contact allowed in church, and she said: "Of course Elder Marshall. I'll look forward to it."

The next Wednesday the two missionaries lent their cycles against the front wall of the house, after chaining them up, knocked on the door and were allowed in by Noreen. Noreen was feeling ambivalent about the situation.

She liked Mandy's husband Dave, but she loved her sister and had believed Mandy when she'd told her her time with Grady was only a harmless fling and wouldn't hurt Dave, if he never found out. So Noreen had agreed to continue to keep Alfred busy by talking with him. Actually that wasn't much of a burden as she had found Alfred an amiable and interesting companion.

That afternoon as Noreen and Alfred talked on architecture, music and movies, whilst drinking Barley Cup, Mandy took her young protege and taught him how to lick a woman to orgasm, how to 69 and various other sexual matters that Mandy had learned from reading the Joy of Sex, chatting with female friends, look at several porn magazines and her practical experiences since she lost her virginity in the back seat of a Mini just days post her 16th birthday and experiences gained with several lovers and then her husband Dave, throughout the years.

Several Wednesdays on and Mandy decided to try reverse cowgirl. The result was absolutely mind-blowing for both of them. As she said to Noreen later: "It was fucking incredible, sis! He was in so deep, even though I know from the sex ed classes from old Mrs Waterhouse at school that it wasn't possible, it felt as if his cockhead penetrated my cervix and I swear I could feel his cum squirting into my womb!"

Noreen was horrified about what she was hearing. "Mandy, I think this is going too far. Are you falling in love with Grady? Is he falling in love with you?"

Mandy shook her head. "No, that's cobblers, Noreen. That's not happening." Actually, there was something Mandy held back from her sister. During the intensity of the experience Mandy had said: "I love you, Grady!" To which Grady had pledged his love, also.

Had someone questioned her, Mandy would have tried to deny that there was any meaning behind that utterance, saying: "That was just the sex talking."

Grady had idly began thinking of taking Mandy back home to Salt Lake City and introducing her to his family.

His fantasies were cartoonish and juvenile, because in his heart-of-hearts he knew that introducing his family to his married lover who was about 15 years his senior and encumbered with two young children, just wouldn't really go well on any level.

The problem with cheating, especially if it stupidly takes place at the same location and at the same same time on the same day every week, eventually someone notices what is happening.

Dave worked in the technical department of a local foundry. He worked Monday to Fridays on the 10am 'til 6pm shift, always arriving home between 6.30pm 'til 7pm, several hours after Mandy had said goodbye to her lover, taken a shower and aired out the lounge every Wednesday.

The problem is that neighbours are nosy and they gossip. But only one neighbour, a retired engineer called Bob actually cared enough to speak with Dave about what he had seen and what he had heard from the neighbours.

Bob roughly knew when Dave got back from work and he approached him one Tuesday evening and said: "Dave! Just the man I need to see. Can you help me out by looking at my lawnmower, please?"

Dave grinned and said: "OK, Bob. But I know bugger-all about lawnmowers, but lead the way."

When they walked into Bob's garage Bob closed the door and had a serious expression on his face. "Dave, you know I'm not one to gossip but some of the neighbours are saying some nasty, vile things about your Mandy and her sister."

"What things?" asked Dave, puzzled.

"Every Wednesday for the past month or so two of them Mormon missionaries park their bikes outside your house, go in and spend two or three hours inside with Mandy and her sister. Some of the neighbours are making out that they are getting together and having an orgy."

Dave shook his head. "That's bullshit. The girls would never do anything like that! Nor would those Mormons lads! What do you think I should do? Confront the neighbours? Confront Mandy?"

"Bloody heck, no! That's the last thing you should do. I've done some thinking and I reckon the best thing you can do is arrive home from work early tomorrow, see for yourself that nothing is going on and then you, Mandy and her sister should then confront the neighbours. Maybe see a solicitor."

"Thanks, Bob. That's a great idea. I will do that tomorrow. And thanks for being a good friend. I'll buy you a couple of pints in the Foundry Social Club one evening."

They shook hands and Dave went home, giving Mandy a hug and a kiss. "What did Bob want?" she asked.

Dave smiled, saying, "he asked my advice on his lawnmower. I think it either needs a bloody good mechanic or probably a priest for the last rites!"

They ate their evening meal, although Dave wasn't particularly hungry.

The next morning Dave left for work as usual just after 9am for the start of his 10am shift at the laboratory in the foundry he worked at as a senior metallurgical technician. He spoke privately with his boss the Chief Metallurgist Paul Wilton and explained his problem.

"Paul, I'm asking to be allowed to finish work several hours early today so I can find out what the fuck is going on, if anything. I'll come in on Saturday to make up my time."

Paul shook his head, emphatically. "No you bloody wont! I'll let you finish early, but I won't have you make up the time. It's not like you're one of the employees who are on the clock and need to clock in and out, you're staff so we can be a bit more flexible.

"Why not do whatever work you can and leave at lunchtime, maybe two o'clock? I hope everything works out OK, pal. And no matter what happens, don't get yourself into any trouble?"

Dave promised that he wouldn't get into any trouble and went into the laboratory's workshop area where he spent several hours tinkering with some older Speedy Moisture Meters that were used to measure the moisture content of the sand used in the moulds in the foundry. They were horrendously expensive and keeping them in good condition was a sensible idea.

Eventually the time had come for him to leave. He washed his hands, waved goodbye to Paul and drove home, dreading what he might find.

The houses had an access road behind them. Some of the houses like Bob's had a garage at the front, some of them, like Dave and Mandy's house had garages to the rear off the access road.

Dave parked the car, locked it and walked through the back gate. He opened the door from the garden into the lounge and caught Mandy and Grady having sex on the sofa bed.

Dave rushed in as the two lovers rapidly disengaged. Dave's promise not to get into trouble was forgotten in the rage of his bitter betrayal. "Get off my wife, you piece of shit!" he roared as he punched Grady in the jaw.

Grady fell to the floor and Dave was about to kick him in the bollocks when Mandy shrieked "No, Dave. Don't. He's not worth it! He's not worth going to jail over!"

Dave pulled back, his breathing ragged. From his supine position Grady cried out: "Not worth it? But you told me you loved me!" He began to cry, his dreams shattered.

"Oh, fucking Hell, you bitch!" Dave shouted at Mandy. "You bloody seduced him, didn't you? What did you do? Pull your fucking tits out? Young kid of his age and with his lack of experience? He had no chance, did he?"

Noreen and Alfred appeared from the kitchen, shocked and appalled by the scene that met them.

Dave turned to Alfred and said: "Just get your fucking mate up off the floor. And you, you little shit, just think yourself lucky that I'm not going to kick you in the goolies so hard that you'll look like you have the mumps. Get dressed and piss off!"

He turned to Mandy and said: "As for you, just bugger off with Noreen and stay with her for a while. And what the fuck will your Mormon Bishop say?"