Missionary Girls

I can’t believe this is a true story, and I don’t deserve to tell it to you, but if I don’t HOW will anyone appreciate the extreme hotness that is a crazy porn script come to life??

As we were just getting to know this cute girl-next-door standing next to her husband (in the “lifestyle club” we were all at,) she told us that she was an ex-Mormon. 

(Who I sincerely hope will forgive me for retelling her story the way I happen to remember it from years ago, though I have dreamt of writing her story since that day.)

We set the scene. Hawaii. (I don’t actually recall where she went, but in my head, it was Hawaii.) A young Mormon girl goes off on her mission, a fresh 18-year-old. She’s out of the house for the first time, and with her, Lizzie, her mission companion. 

*What follows is my imagination taking over for the short story she told me, but was based on a true story! Remember, I’m a writer and have an imagination… but she told me something that definitely made me think that this was how it went down!*

**Disclaimer… I’ve never been Mormon but was raised in a purity culture type setting, so I’m pulling more from that and some basic research, but some of this is my assumption or poetic license than actual understanding. Take it with that lil’ grain of salt, please, and I hope you’ll forgive me for any incorrect representation.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily tried to make sure she didn’t take up too much space in the dorm where she and her roommate were assigned for the first six weeks. She didn’t want to be a pain. After that, it would go back to the college students at BYU Hawaii, but the pair would transfer to different apartments with other companions. 

The 18-year-olds barely knew each other and, aside from a few meetings and in passing at worship, this would be the first time they had actually spent together. Their first full day. The first day of the next six weeks. 

What if she was a chatterbox?

What if they had nothing to talk about?

What if they straight up couldn’t stand each other?

“Emily!” The most cheerful and sincere vocalization of her name Emily had possibly ever heard came from the doorway behind her. She rose from her boxes in the corner to turn toward the voice.

“Lizzy?” Emily found herself beaming at her new housemate despite her recent ruminations. “How was your flight?”

“Oh my goodness let me tell you…”

Moving was never fun, but Lizzy seemed to be a ball of joy nonetheless. Emily instantly found herself swept up into her roommate’s magnetic energy, finding her as easy to talk with as someone she’d known for years. Over the next hour or so, Emily and Lizzy talked, sitting on their dorm-style twin beds with hardly a care in the world.

During the next few days, Emily quickly found that not only did she not find her roommate annoying or difficult, she found her a little bit more… exciting than she’d expected. 

Lizzy seemed to care less about her bath towel than some. Coming from a very modest family, that, to be sure, had more boys than girls to begin with, Emily hadn’t even come out of the corner of her room when someone had finished a shower. 

Though Emily gravitated toward the nook near the window when Lizzy entered after a shower, she always acted like she was the only one in the room. More often than not, Lizzy would drop her towel right in front of Emily, walk around the room for a minute, and then go on to put pajamas on as if she didn’t notice Emily trying not to stare. 

Emily knew that it wasn’t right to fantasize about her mission companion. Everything in her life so far told her she shouldn’t. But it didn’t stop her. It felt so wrong but it felt so right. 

That would have been the extent of it for Emily. A fantasy. A fantasy to mentally punish herself for, and nothing more. But then…

BHHM. BHHM. BHHM.

Emily jolted from a Saturday afternoon doze to what sounded like someone trying to kick the door in.  She snapped up to sit in her bed, looking toward the door. 

BHHM. BHHM. BHHM.

The sound continued at an even pace, but it was coming from the wall across the room rather than the door. What the… 

“Ohhhhhh fuuuck, Jenna…” came the muffled feminine voice through the thin dorm wall. 

Emily’s face immediately flushed red with realization. 

With Lizzie out running an errand and no TV or stereo to drown out the noise, Emily cast about for a distraction. She grabbed a book she’d been planning to start. To her chagrin, the noises of two women having what sounded like a really good time next door continued. 

“Jenna… Jenna… Jenna, I’m gonna…”

Emily was still staring at the first sentence of her dry book, and felt a trickle of wetness seeping into her panties. She pressed her thighs together, willing the tingling sensation to stop. 

“JENNA!”

The noises then died down. Emily gasped. She found she had been holding her breath. Her hand was wedged between her thighs, dampness met her fingertips, eyes clenched tightly closed.

What was this feeling? And why had her mind flashed to Lizzy, more than once, while hearing what was happening next door? Though Emily had a lot of questions, her body seemed certain about what it wanted. 

Her fingers wandered where they pleased. Under the waistband of her leggings, over the thin fabric of her underwear, down to the forbidden place. It was not for the first time, but a rare and guilty occasion that Emily allowed herself to find pleasure with her own fingers. They played and explored as though discovering new territory, bumbling delightfully, navigating saturated slopes and valleys of cotton.

“Mmmm,” Emily moaned, relaxing back into her pillows, eyes closed. 

Jangle, jangle. Click, click. 

Emily’s eyes flew open and her hand jerked out of her pants. She scrambled to sit upright and fumble for her book as Lizzie opened the door, carrying a tote bag full of groceries. 

“Hello, hello…” Lizzie sang in her cute way, heading to the mini fridge to stow her items. She glanced at Emily, then did a double-take and giggled. “Why are you red? What are you up to, Em-Em?”

Emily hadn’t had time to think of a good reason for her obvious blushing. After a short pause, she decided to give in with half the truth. 

“Err… the next door neighbor girls seemed to be doing something… um, together. I think they might have been, uh…”

“Were they having sex again?” Lizzie interjected with a lighthearted laugh. 

“Again? Wait, what?”

“Well, a couple times while you happened to be out I heard them, too. I’m not surprised, weekends seem to be their time for it.” Lizzie seemed amused and not scandalized in the least. Not really how Emily would have imagined she’d be. 

“So you were feeling a bit uncomfortable, I take it?” Lizzie gave Emily a wry, mischievous smile that made Emily’s stomach do a little flip. “Or… did you enjoy hearing it? Either one could have made your face that red.” Her laugh was light and without a trace of malice, something that said any answer would be natural and maybe even fun to hear about. 

Lizzie didn’t wait for Emily to reply as she went back to putting groceries away. 

Without Lizzie’s eyes on her, Emily felt herself begin to breathe more normally again. “Um… I don’t know… maybe a bit of both,” she managed to mumble in response. 

“You know, I thought you and I were a lot alike. Seems more true all the time!” Lizzie glanced over her shoulder with a smile, but continued to organize the refrigerator. 

Despite the unexpected and potentially awkward topic, Lizzie’s calm and happy demeanor set Emily back at ease. Their following conversation touched on subjects Emily never thought she’d be able to discuss with anyone, continuing for the next couple hours, with Lizzie sitting cross-legged at the end of Emily’s bed for much of it. 

Initially, Emily simply enjoyed having someone to confide in, someone who seemed to understand her better than anyone else had before. But, she soon noticed that more than one kind of barrier was starting to break down. When they studied together in the evening, Lizzy had begun putting a hand on Emily’s thigh whenever she pointed something out in the texts. She’d lean in extra close as if to be heard better although in a perfectly quiet room. Emily found she was starting to do the same, and felt a dizzying sensation every time it happened. 

It was Saturday. One week after hearing a lesbian tryst for Emily’s first time, Emily and Lizzy were sitting on the bed, reading a devotional together, when it happened again.

BHHM. BHHM. BHHM.

“Do you think the same chick is always on top, or do they switch off?” Lizzy giggled before cocking her head to the side as if pondering a very serious question. 

“Mmmmmmm Rachel…”

“Well, I heard “Jenna” before. Guess that answers that question,” Emily laughed. 

“I imagine you’re right… I bet there’s a lot for both parties to enjoy.” Lizzie was now looking directly at Emily, her nose only an inch away from Emily’s. Emily felt the dizzying sensation again and closed her eyes in response. 

Suddenly, they were kissing. Emily didn’t know exactly how it started, but she knew it was the only thing that could have happened naturally at that point. Tangled in one another, breathing each other in, unlocking every previous physical boundary, it was Emily’s first true realization of what passion was.

During the day, Emily and Lizzie were good Mormon missionary girls. Door-to-door evangelizing about the truths of Joseph Smith and the benefits of following his teachings. 

At night, behind closed doors, the companions became explorers. It was both girls’ first times fully experiencing another woman’s body in that way, and to say this endeavor was a thrill would have been an understatement. 

She’d been told of the “holy union,” a married man and woman having relations for the first time, a pure and wondrous thing given of God. Passion, heat, lust, or even orgasms had never ever been mentioned. Piecemeal, Emily just assumed she was straight, as Holy Father had intended, and that her skewed ideations of women came directly from the devil.

If this was the Devil at work, though, Emily thought, then he was doing a damned good job of making it feel like Heaven, and she was skipping merrily to Hell. 

Saturday afternoon. Week five of six. Emily and Lizzy had attempted to study for about 2.5 seconds… before the book fell to the floor, forgotten, while clothes rained on top of it. 

Lizzy was getting good. Real good. Two curved fingers pummeled Emily’s G-spot while she moaned and gushed copious amounts of fluid onto the stack of towels beneath her. After laundering the bedclothes several days in a row, they finally realized that Lizzy would never not turn Emily into a fountain and they started adding barriers. 

BHHM BHHM BHHM.

The weak metal dormitory bed slammed into the wall with Lizzy’s thrusts.

“Lizzy…. Oh, Lizzy… LIZZYYYY…” Emily found that saying her name as she fucked her made Lizzy all the more ready when it was her turn. Emily was already thinking about licking her throbbing cunt, making her cum hard after Lizzy mercilessly made her tremble with orgasm after orgasm. 

Just as Emily felt she was about to climax, Lizzy dove for her pussy and licked her clit while furiously slapping her insides with her fingers. “Slapping.” That might be an unconventional word here, but it is the best word, because that is indeed the sound it made. It was wet as a pond and sounded exactly like slapping the top of one with an open palm. 

Lizzy’s face was absolutely drenched but she didn’t seem to care. She laughed with glee as Emily gasped and shook. It was her fifth orgasm at this point, but it was somehow still the best one of the day. 

“Please, Liz…” Emily panted. “No more please,” she laughed, breathlessly. “I love it but it’s my turn.”

“Love, I think that was your turn.” Lizzy smirked up at Emily and sucked a wet finger. 

“You know what I mean. It’s my turn to make you feel good. I love, love, love making you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Fine. See if I care.” Lizzy stuck out her tongue in a mock-sassy expression, but all it did was make Emily hornier, and she pounced before Lizzy could react. 

Lizzy squealed, followed by happy laughter, as Emily yanked off her panties, the last remaining item she had on. 

Emily buried her face in the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. She was laying atop the towels drenched in her own fluids in order to tongue Lizzy, but it was well worth it to her even to spare the second it would have taken to push them off. It smelled like sex in the room in the best way. 

BHHM BHHM BHHM.

Emily froze. 

The sound was coming from the door. Not the wall. 

Lizzie’s eyes were wide. “Sister Thompson,” she mouthed.

Emily had the exact same thought. They had both completely forgotten that a mission leader had been planning to come by that afternoon.

Though the pair scrambled to clothe themselves and answer the door quickly, it appeared that they had been caught. They answered the door with Emily’s t-shirt clearly on backwards, and the room smelled, unsurprisingly, like Emily had just covered the bed in her cum. Sister Thompson said she had heard something like moaning as she was coming up the hall. She wanted an explanation.

Sister Thompson was usually the cheery, chatty type at the ward potlucks, but on this occasion, the girls found her decidedly severe. 

Unconvinced by the meager excuses Emily and Lizzy tried to give, Sister Thompson moved them into separate dorm rooms that very night. She ensured no contact would happen from then on, considering she was doing the Lord’s work of thwarting devilry. Evangelizing was one thing. Keeping the Devil from corrupting two of Heavenly Father’s children was another, and she had to do it. 

Emily was devastated. She felt broken. It seemed the best thing in her life had been snatched away. 

Still, there in the fifth week of her intended two-year mission, she realized that something was not right. Her feelings for Lizzy were not wrong. They were not of the Devil. There was nothing better than the feeling of being truly seen and cared for by another person. In the way Lizzy had. In a way no one else had done before.

It was this place and these people and these teachings that were wrong. Not her. Not Lizzy. It couldn’t be. 

To sort out why everything in her life until that point felt incorrect, while something that had blossomed over a matter of weeks felt the opposite, well, that’s another story entirely. But what came of that is that she eventually met her husband, he was open-minded, and then they went out…

And that’s when she met me.