Pure and Sinful

Pure and Sinful

By: Spectrotica247

...

Summary:

Mason Benedict is a closeted gay teen in the Mormon community who will be doing missionary work with Phillip McCray, the son of the bishop and a hot athletic chick magnet, whom Mason secretly has a crush on. But soon they got a flat tire, and that's when their relationship escalated in a way Mason didn't expect.

Chapter Two - "Stranded with Secrets"

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BANG!

The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet of the evening, echoing in the enclosed space and shattering the tension between the two young men. They jolted forward as the vehicle swerved before coming to an abrupt stop, the smell of burnt rubber and dust enveloping the cabin.

"What the—?" Phillip exclaimed, his hand flying to the side of his face to cover his nose.

Mason looked out the window to see that they had a flat tire, the shredded remnants of the rubber scattered along the road. "Looks like we've got a bit of a problem," he said, his voice tinged with fear.

Phillip turned the engine off and climbed out, inspecting the damage with a grimace. "Looks like we're not going anywhere until we fix this," he called over his shoulder. "Better get to it."

Phillip brought the RV to a halt, the engine sputtering into silence, and a cloud of dust settling around them. He turned off the ignition and slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "Great," he muttered under his breath.

Mason watched as Phillip opened the door and jumped out, the late afternoon sun casting light on his tense frame. The blonde-haired missionary surveyed the damage, his hand running through his hair in exasperation. "It's definitely a flat," he called out to Mason, his voice echoing in the quiet rural area.

The teen with medium flow hair tentatively stepped out of the RV, his eyes following Phillip's to the sad-looking tire. "How did this happen?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and bewilderment.

Phillip shrugged, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he leaned against the RV. "Probably picked up a nail or something," he said with a sigh. "It's not exactly a big deal, but it's definitely a pain. I don't have a spare, and the nearest gas station is miles away."

Mason looked around, the vastness of the rural area stretching out in every direction with not a single building in sight. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of panic. "We can't just leave the RV here."

Phillip rubbed the back of his neck with frustration. "Yeah, we can't exactly hitchhike in our missionary suits," he said with a grim chuckle. "Guess we'll have to call for help." He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the fading light.

The blonde-haired 18-year-old pulled out his phone and dialed the number for roadside assistance, his thumbs typing in their location with surprising dexterity given the situation. "Yeah, we need a tow," he said into the phone, the words cutting through the silence like a knife. "Flat tire on the RV, stranded on the side of the road."

Mason meanwhile leaned against the RV next to him, the heat of the metal warming his back as he listened to the one-sided conversation. A chill went down his spine, not just from the sudden turn of events but also from the unspoken words that had danced around them in the cabin.

After what felt like an eternity, the quiet of the countryside amplifying every cricket's chirp and the distant hoot of an owl, Phillip hung up and turned to Mason, his blue eyes locking onto the brunette boy's. "They said they'll send someone out, but it's going to take at least an hour," he sighed. "So yeah... looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a bit."

Mason nodded, his throat tight with a gulp. The prospect of being stranded alone with Phillip, the object of his secret desires, was both terrifies but also excites him. "We should probably... uh, wait sit inside the RV?" he suggested.

"Yeah, sure," Phillip nods.

They climbed back into the RV, the air thick with the heat of the setting sun and their unspoken tension. Mason retreated to the back then perched on the edge of the narrow bed decorated with white sheets and pillows. The cramped space was designed for sleep, not contemplation, and he felt his secret pressing in on him like the walls of a closing elevator.

Phillip opened the small refrigerator, the cool air offering a brief respite from the sweltering heat outside. "You want a soda or something?" he called back to Mason, his hand hovering over a can of Sprite soda. The question was innocent enough, but the tone of his voice held a hint of something more, a subtle challenge perhaps.

Mason's eyes flickered from the bed to Phillip. "Sure," he said, his voice betraying none of the tumultuous thoughts in his head.

Phillip grabbed two cans and tossed one to Mason, who caught it with a thud. He then sat beside him, the bed groaning slightly under their combined weight, Mason felt the heat from Phillip's body seep into his own, making the already stuffy air in the RV seem even more oppressive. He cracked open his Sprite, the hiss of the carbonation a stark contrast to the heavy silence between them.

The condensation on the can was cold against his fingertips. The blonde's leg was just inches away, his thigh muscles flexing as he shifted his position. Mason opens his own can took a sip of his drink, the bubbles dancing on his tongue, his eyes straying to Phillip's hand as it rested on the mattress.

"It's pretty hot in here, isn't it?" Phillip commented after taking a swig of his Sprite. Before Mason could respond, Phillip had already removed his blue navy church jacket and was fiddling with the knot of his red tie. "Think the air conditioning will only work when the engine's running," he added with a shrug, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the top buttons of his crisp white shirt.

Phillip sits his can down and sits himself up, the material of his shirt stretched over his muscular frame, revealing a small circular pendant nestled between the defined planes of his chest. Mason couldn't help but feel a stirring in his pants as he blushed, his eyes unintentionally lingering on the glint of metal against Phillip's tanned skin. The sight of the other boy's body, so close and yet so off-limits, was like a siren's call to the deepest parts of his soul that he had struggled to suppress for so long. He averted his gaze, focusing instead on the condensation running down his soda can.

Sitting back down, completely shirtless, Phillip suggests Mason should take off his shirt too. "It's hot," Phillip says with a grin, "and we're gonna be here a while."

Mason feels a jolt of panic, his eyes darting from Phillip's bare chest to his own tightly clenched hands. He gulps, his throat dry, and nods, his fingers fumbling with the knot of his tie. He tugs it off, then slowly unbuttons his shirt, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. With trembling hands, he pulls the fabric over his head, revealing his own lean frame, the muscles he's worked hard to hide beneath layers of clothing.

As he sets his shirt aside, he's acutely aware of the space between them, the air charged with a tension that's palpable. He tries to play it cool as he sits back down without a word, taking a sip of his soda, the cold liquid doing little to ease the heat that's building within him. Phillip's eyes flicker to him, a spark of something unreadable in their depths.

Mason tries to avoid eye contact with Phillip, focusing instead on the fizzing soda in his hand. He can feel the heat of the other boy's gaze, his own blush spreading across his cheeks. The silence stretches out like the endless road they've traveled, thick with the tension that's been building between them since they left Pleasant Grove.

Finally, Phillip breaks the silence. "You okay, Elder Benedict?" he asks with a concerned frown.

Mason nods, gulping down his soda as if it could wash away his nerves. "Yeah, just... never been stranded before," he lies, hoping his voice doesn't give away the turmoil inside.

Phillip raised an eyebrow, but he doesn't call Mason out on the obvious lie. "It's no big deal," he says with a shrug. "It's all part of the adventure, right?"

"Y-yeah," Mason nods, biting his bottom lip.

Phillip then attempts to lighten the mood with a laugh. "You know, I've got a bunch of wild stories from my dad's missions," he says, leaning back onto the pillows. "Like the time they had to sleep in a chicken coop because there was nowhere else to stay."

Mason's eyes widen at the thought, trying to focus on the story as a distraction from his racing thoughts. "Really?" he asks, his voice a little too eager.

Phillip nods with a pearly-white grin. "Yeah, and apparently, the roosters didn't care if you were on a divine errand. They woke him up at the crack of dawn every day."

Mason's nervous laughter fills the tense air, but it's clear the conversation isn't enough to dispel the awkwardness. Phillip's gaze lingers on Mason, his expression thoughtful, as if he's trying to read the unspoken words written all over the brunette's face. "But enough about that," he says, his tone turning serious. "I remember you were about to tell me something earlier, Mason. You wanna tell me what it is about?"

Mason's heart skips a beat, the cold soda in his hand suddenly feels like it's burning his skin. "Uh... I-I'm not if I'm ready," he stammers, his eyes darting away from Phillip's intense gaze.

"C'mon," Phillip presses gently. "We're going to be together 24/7 for the next two years. We can't keep secrets from each other, especially not on a mission."

What have I done? How is he gonna take it once I tell him something that's considered... sinful? Mason's stomach churns, his palms slick with sweat. "It's nothing," he lied again. "Just... personal stuff."

The son of the bishop leans closer, his hand reaching out to grip Mason's forearm firmly. "You can trust me, man. Whatever it is, we're in this together."

Mason gulped, the warmth of Phillip's touch sending waves of fear and desire through his body. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat like a fish out of water, gasping for air. He's torn between the urge to confess everything and the fear of rejection that's been drilled into him by his community.

With a tremble in his voice, he met Phillip's gaze. "If you tell me yours first," Mason offered, his heart racing like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Phillip leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Okay, if it makes you feel comfortable. But no judging." He took a deep breath before continuing, "You know how everyone thinks I'm this perfect Mormon boy, right?"

Mason nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from Phillip's.

"Well, I'm not. I've done things..." the blonde missionary pauses for a moment, bracing himself to confess his feelings to his companion. "I... I've always felt like I've had to be this... this perfect Mormon son. The athlete, the scholar, the missionary, everything. But, there's this... part of me that I've had to keep hidden. Something that doesn't fit the mold."

Mason's eyes widen, his heart racing faster than a greyhound on a racetrack. He nods, his mind racing with the possibility that Phillip might be sharing something that mirrors his own secret. "What is it?" he asks softly.

"I... I don't know if I can say it," Phillip says, his voice cracking with vulnerability. "But if you tell me yours, maybe I can tell you mine."

Mason feels the weight of his secret lifting slightly at the prospect of sharing it with someone. "Okay," he says, taking a deep breath. "I... I think I might be... attracted to guys."

He did it. He finally came out of the closet and told someone his feelings.

Not just someone... the bishop's son!

The two shirtless young men were quiet for a moment, the only sounds that were breaking the silence was the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Mason's heart is in his throat, waiting for Phillip's reaction, bracing for the worst as he expected to get a "you know it's a sin, right" conversation.

Phillip's grip on his arm tightens slightly, and for a moment, Mason's sure he's made a mistake. But then, the blonde-haired boy leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Me too,"

Mason's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. "What!?"

"Yeah, you heard me," Phillip says, his smirk growing wider. "But it's not just guys. I've always had this... curiosity about everything. Girls, guys, I've felt it all. But here, in the open like this, it's like we're on some kind of divine errand ourselves, you know? Free from the prying eyes of our ward, our families." He then clears his throat. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm bi."

Mason's world spun as he tried to process the confession of the bishop's son out of all people. He had never imagined that the seemingly perfect Phillip McCray could harbor such secrets. "So, you're... bisexual?" Mason questioned, barely above a whisper.

Phillip nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. "Yeah," he says. "I've also had... experiences." His gaze drops to the floor, a hint of red creeping up his neck. "Do you remember Sister Sanders? The one with the big smile who used to play the piano at church?"

Mason nods. Sister Gloria Sanders had been a beloved member of their congregation before she and her family had moved away two years ago. "What about her?" he asks, his voice still shaky.

"Well," Phillip began, his eyes focused on the floor, "Sister Sanders' son, Luke. He's a really shy kid from Sunday school, right?"

Mason nodded, recalling Luke's soft-spoken demeanor and the way he'd always hover near his mother at church functions.

"Well one day," Phillip began. "a few months before they moved, both our parents left us to clean the church attic together while they went out to the store to grab more supplies."

Mason nods, his curiosity piqued. "And?" he prods gently, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Phillip looks up, his smirk morphing into a full-fledged grin. "Well, the attic was like a sauna. So, I took off my shirt. Luke was staring at me, and I could see the way his eyes went wide. He looked... intrigued." Phillip pauses, his thumb tracing the edge of the Sprite can. He then continues with a twinkle of mischief. "And I couldn't help but notice. So, I just outright asked him, 'Do you like what you see, Luke?' And you know what he said?"

"W-what did he say?" the brown-haired young man inquired.

"He said yes," Phillip whispers, his voice filled with the thrill of the memory. His hand then hovered in the air as he recounted the story, mimicking the motion he had used with Luke. "So, I told him to come closer. And when he did, I took his hand and placed it here," Phillip's voice grew husky as he laid Luke's palm over his heart, which now thumped heavily in his chest.

Mason's jaw dropped as Phillip recounted his experience with a shy former male church member. The words were like a bombshell in the confined space of the RV, echoing through the silence and shattering the illusion of the perfect Mormon façade. "You're kidding," the Benedict teen managed to say.

But Phillip's expression was anything but joking. "Nah," he said, a smoldering look in his eyes. "I told him I knew he was curious. And I was too. So, I leaned in and whispered, 'You know, Luke, I think you're pretty cute.' And when he didn't pull away, I could feel my cock getting hard in my pants."

Mason's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat. The revelation of Phillip's sexual curiosity was like a door to a forbidden room swinging open, and he found himself both horrified and intrigued by what lay beyond. "What did you guys do?" he asked with anticipation.

Phillip's voice grew softer, his eyes locked onto Mason's. "I told him if he didn't want to, we could just keep it between us. But if he did, I'd make sure it was our little secret." He paused, his hand still hovering over his chest, before sliding it down to rest on his lap, his thumb idly stroking the fabric of his trousers. "And so, I whispered to him, 'You can move your hand down if you want.' At first, he was hesitant, his eyes wide with fear. But then, something changed. He looked at me, and I could see the want in them."

Is this... is this conversation real? Am I really hearing this? Coming out of the mouth of the bishop's son!? Thoughts of disbelief, shock, and somewhat arousal swirled around Mason's head, his eyes flicking from Phillip's hand to his face and back again. "A-and," he gulped with a trembling voice. "W-what did... what did Luke do next?"

The blonde missionary leaned back onto his elbow, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he recounted the tale. "Well, for a moment, it was like the world stopped spinning," Phillip said, his gaze locked on Mason's, the blue of his eyes darkening with the weight of the memory. "He was so nervous, so unsure. I could see it in his eyes. But then, almost like he was being guided by an angel, he moved his hand down to... well, to here," Phillip said, his hand sliding down to cover his own crotch, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

Mason's own crotch was growing taut with anticipation. The story was like a forbidden fruit, tempting him with its sweetness, yet he knew he should be repulsed. But he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"He was so gentle," the McCray teen continued. "Like he was touching something sacred. And when he felt me... growing... he looked up at me, and I swear, for a second, it was like he saw right through me. And I knew, just knew, that he felt the same way."

Their blue and green eyes met, and the electricity between them was like a live wire. Mason tries to resist touching himself as Phillip's hand lingers over his own crotch, the fabric of his black church pants stretching with his own burgeoning arousal, the silver buckle of his leather belt gleaming in the soft light.

"And then?" Mason finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse.

"And then," Phillip repeated, "I kissed him." His hand began to move, the fabric of his pants shifting with the rhythm of his unspoken words. "It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Soft and sweet, like a secret only we shared."

"D-did he... did he kiss you back?" Mason asked again.

"Oh, he did," Phillip said, his eyes closing briefly as if lost in the moment. "It was... it was like the first time I'd ever felt truly alive. And we kept it our secret, even after he moved away. It was our little piece of heaven in the middle of Pleasant Grove's hell."

Mason sat there, his mind racing with the images Phillip's words had painted. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from his missionary companion, the son of their bishop. Yet, something about it all felt eerily comforting.

"So, Luke, he...," Mason's voice trailed off as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"He took it out," Phillip opens his eyes, the mischief in them unmistakable. "He was so shy about it, but he did it... even though I didn't tell him to, which took me by surprise. I just stood there and let him open the buckle of my belt, unzip my fly, and take out my cock. It was so soft... so warm. And... oh man, it felt like the world had stopped." he whispers, his hand mirroring the action he's describing.

"He... he did what!?" To say that Mason was shocked is an understatement. The young brunette had never, in a million years, expected this revelation from the town's golden boy. In fact he'd never heard anyone speak so openly about something so... sinful.

"Yeah," Phillip said, his voice thick with desire as he began to rub his crotch, his own arousal growing obvious. "He was brave for a shy boy, all right. The second my cock was out, he just leaned in and took it in his mouth like he'd been waiting for it his whole life. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before."

Mason couldn't help but feel his own cock stir in response, his body betraying the strict religious upbringing that had taught him such feelings were wrong. The image of Phillip with another boy, someone he had also found himself attracted to, was both confusing and incredibly arousing. He bit his bottom lip, trying to process the implications of what he was hearing.

"I thought I was going to blow my load right there," Phillip continued, his voice low and breathy. "But I managed to hold back. I didn't want it to end so quickly." He looked at Mason, the lust in his eyes unmistakable. Mason swore by now his cheeks are flushing redder than a sinner in the face of God as the blonde 18-year-old shared the next part of his story.

"Then I picked him up," Phillip said, his icy blue orbs glazed with lustful memories, "and laid him on the old, dusty table up there. I took off his belt and pulled down his pants. And man... his cock was so hard and wet, just begging for attention. I couldn't resist. The next thing I knew... I was inside him while I started jerking him off."

Phillip's hand moved more urgently over the bulge in his pants as he recounted the intimate moments with Luke. "And when he whimpered... and God, it was like music to my ears. He called me 'daddy' as I was inside him, so innocent yet so... hungry for it." Phillip lets out ragged breaths as he remembers the feeling of Luke's tightness enveloping him, the sweet sound of their flesh slapping together as he pushes deeper. "I could feel his pre-cum leaking onto my hand," Phillip's voice grew thicker, "and it just made me want to go faster, harder."

Oh man... I shouldn't be listening to this. Mason thought, trying to ignore his now fully erect erection straining in his pants. Please, Phillip... you're gonna make me have unholy thoughts. I-I made a promise to the Lord this morning to only work alongside you to spread His word. We can't be doing this. But still, he couldn't bring himself to say these words out loud.

Phillip of course wasn't done with his tale. The smirk on his face grew wider as he remembered the climax of their encounter. "Finally... when I came inside him, his eyes rolled back, and his cock just... exploded. It was like a volcano, man. I've never seen anything so hot." His hand stilled on his crotch, his breathing shallow. "The cum shot out in these huge ropes, landing all over his chest, his face. It was like watching something sacred and profane all at once."

He looked over at Mason, who was now visibly flustered. "You should've seen it, man," Phillip said with a smug grin, his voice thick with desire. "It was fucking beautiful."

Mason's jaw dropped at the sound of Phillip's casual use of the word 'fucking', something he had never heard come from the lips of the bishop's son. It was as if a barrier had been knocked down within Phillip, and a torrent of hidden desires and words flowed out into the open. It feels as if Mason is looking at a different person.

He began to speak in a shaky tone, "So... you're telling me... that you and Luke were having sex... at the attic of the church? The house of the Lord!?" Mason had always seen the church as a bastion of purity and righteousness, and the thought of such a profane act taking place within its sacred walls was foreign to him.

"Yeah, we were," Phillip nodded. "But it's not like it's something you'd expect, is it? The bishop's son, fucking in the church attic. It's like... the ultimate rebellion." He took a deep breath, his hand still resting on the bulge in his pants. "But you know what? It's not just about the thrill of breaking the rules. It's about finding something real, something that makes you feel alive."

Mason's eyes were as wide as saucers, trying to reconcile the image of pious Phillip with the confession of his illicit relationship. "But don't you know what the church teaches about... about sex outside of marriage?" he stuttered, his own hand itching to touch his erection that's pressing painfully against his missionary trousers.

"Of course, I do," Phillip said, his tone slightly agitated. "But Mason, sometimes the things that make us feel most alive are the ones we're told are wrong. Maybe that's because the people telling us are afraid of losing their own power over us."

"So... why are you telling me this?" Mason stuttered.

The teen with a blonde quiff sat up on his behind, the hand that had been resting on his crotch now moving in a slow, circular motion. A smirk was plastered on his handsome face when his blue eyes fell on the bulge that was now painfully obvious in the brunet boy's belted pants. "Because, I've noticed the way you look at me, Mason. And I've seen the way your eyes linger on other guys. I think you're just as hungry for it as I am."

The Benedict teen's heart was beating as Phillip leaned in closer. "You've got this... this fire inside of you," Phillip murmured. "And I think you've been burning for too long." His arm reached out and wrapped itself around Mason's shoulders. "Don't you think it's time you let it out?"

Fear crept into Mason as he gulped. He hadn't expected this from Phillip, of all people. "But... the Bible," he managed to stammer, his voice shaky with fear and desire. "It says..."

Phillip's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "Yeah, I know," he said in a low, soothing tone. "But you know what else it says? It says 'Judge not, less ye be judged'. And who's to say that God doesn't love us just the way we are? We're just two guys, exploring ourselves, you know?"

His words tamed Mason's fears, but not fully. The scriptures he had memorized and recited his whole life were now being twisted in a way that made his stomach churn with fear and excitement. "But if we get caught," Mason whispered, "we'll be kicked out of the church. Our families will be shamed." He knew his family, especially his father, would never look at him the same way again.

"Who says we'll get caught?" Phillip's voice was a seductive whisper. His hand began to massage Mason's shoulder, the pressure of his fingers sending waves of warmth down his spine. "We're the only two humans in a hot RV, it'll be our little secret. Besides, we're on a mission from God. We're doing His work, right?"

Mason nodded, his thoughts racing. He felt the weight of his promise to the Lord, but he also felt the burning desire to be understood, to be seen, to be accepted for who he truly was. "But what about the commandments?" he asked.

"We're not breaking any commandments," his blonde companion said with a silky promise. "We're just... exploring our feelings. It's not like we're going to love each other more than God. We're just... getting to know each other in a different way."

Mason's eyes aimed at Phillip's, the blue orbs filled with a fiery intensity that he hadn't noticed before. "But we can't," he whispered, shaking his head. "We can't betray our faith like this."

The blonde-haired boy leaned in closer, his nose almost touching Mason's. "Or maybe," he said, his voice is a sweet temptation, "this is part of the test. Maybe God wants us to love each other in a way that challenges the very fabric of our beliefs."

Mason tries to see if there's any sign that this was all a joke, a terrible trick. But all he saw in Phillip's eyes was the same earnestness that had been there since they were children, the same unwavering belief in their friendship. "You think... you think that God wants this, Elder McCray?" he asked, his voice quivering.

Phillip's smile grew, showing his pearly white teeth. "I do, Elder Benedict." he answers with warm compassion. "And if it's a test, then we're passing with flying colors."

They leaned back against the pillows. The blonde missionary's hand was still resting on the bulge in his pants, moving in slow, deliberate circles that made Mason's heart race even faster. "Elder Benedict?" Phillip asked, looking at his companion with curiosity and lust. "Have you ever... touched yourself?"

Mason's eyes darted to Phillip's hand, the question hitting him like a ton of bricks. He felt his face heat up, his cheeks flaming red. "N-no," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I mean, well... n-not in a while,"

"Not in a while?" Phillip raised an eyebrow.

Mason felt his face grow hot as he began to recount the memory from his kindergarten days. "Okay well... when I was a little kid, probably around five or six years old," he confessed, darting his eyes down to his own lap, "during nap time in class, I used to... I don't know, play with myself." He took a deep, trembling breath. "And there was this boy, who I honestly thought he looked really cute, laying down next to me. And one day, I got really curious. So I... I just slipped my hand into his pants, and he let me play with his... you know."

Phillip's expression was a mix of shock and intrigue. "Wow," he breathed. "So you've had some experience with boys even as a little kid? How did that make you feel?"

Mason's eyes searched the ceiling of the RV, as if the answer was written there. "Confused," he admitted, his voice a mere murmur. "But also... good. I liked it, I guess. I knew he liked it too."

The brown-haired missionary's voice grew quieter as he continued, "Every day, during nap time, I would... I would jerk myself off while playing with him. But one day, Mrs. Hobbs, who's my teacher at the time... she caught us." Mason's fingers twisted together nervously. "She started smacking my hands with a ruler right there in front of everyone, screaming how disgusting it was to touch another boy's privates."

Tears welled in his eyes as he recalled the sting of the ruler and the laughter of other children. "She called both our parents... and they scolded us with scriptures about masturbation being a sin against our bodies."

Phillip's playful grin vanished instantly. "Mrs. Hobbs?" he asked sharply. "As in... Kathleen Hobbs? The one who goes to our church and teaches Sunday school classes?"

Mason nodded miserably, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Yes... that's her."

The McCray teen shook his head with a heavy sigh from the acid twist of recognition. Mrs. Kathleen Hobbs was infamous among Pleasant Grove's youth—not for kindness, but for her rigid interpretations of doctrine that manifested as vigilantism against perceived moral decay. She operated with the fervor of a crusader, her Facebook feed a curated gallery of outrage: reposted memes decrying "groomers" in schools, alarmist articles about rainbow flags corrupting children, and petitions demanding book bans targeting any mention of diverse families or identities. Her comments sections were battlegrounds where she weaponized scripture like a bludgeon against dissenters, declaring homosexuality an "abomination" that threatened the sanctity of traditional marriage and family.

When her triplet sons, barely twelve, had tentatively helped form a Gay-Straight Alliance at their middle school—a quiet effort to combat bullying—Kathleen hadn't hesitated. Within a week, she'd yanked all three boys out of public education, citing "protecting their innocence from woke indoctrination," and plunged them into a strictly regimented homeschool curriculum centered on LDS-approved texts and isolation from "worldly influences". The town, already deeply conservative, gave her their approval; the triplets became ghosts in their own neighborhood. Phillip couldn't help but feel sorry for those poor boys.

"That explains quite a lot," He replied in a low tone, his fingers tightened on his partner's shoulders. In Kathleen's eyes, Mason's childhood curiosity wasn't innocence—it was proof of corruption festering in the young, something to be beaten out with rulers and righteousness. "The same woman who preaches love thy neighbor while carving shame into kids for breathing wrong."

Phillip turn to look at Mason in the eyes. "Raul told me how his cousin Javier, who works weekends at the Pancake Palace, got a full Hobbs sermon last month, simply because of his ponytail and dangling earrings. That he looked like a 'heathen temptress'," He snickered when he reached the end of that sentence. "But Javier... he just smiled, flipped his hair and asked if she wanted extra syrup. Raul did recall what Javier told him... that she turned purple as an eggplant."

"She broke skin the day she caught me," Mason said, looking down at his hands while remembering the stinging redness that close-minded zealot of a teacher inflicted on him. "Kept hitting me while quoting Leviticus—'If a man lies with a male as with a woman...'—as if I could even understand those words at five years old. My dad made me kneel on rice for hours afterward, reciting verses about abominations until my knees bled."

"Oof, so sorry to hear that, man," Phillip replies, feeling bad for Mason. "That must have been tough."

"It was," His partner's voice cracked as his eyes grew misty, the innocence of his and the boy's shared secret now lost to the harsh reality of their community's judgement. The echoes of his father's stern voice and his mother's sobs resonate in his mind. The boy he'd once been close to had been whisked away, their friendship erased as if it had never been.

"After that, he didn't want to play with me anymore and got transferred to a different class," Mason continued, a hint of sadness in his voice. "And I don't blame him. I was scared too. I didn't understand why it felt so good but everyone said it was bad." His gaze dropped to his own legs, where his hand was gripping firmly on his lap. "Ever since then, I haven't been able to touch myself without feeling guilty, like I'm going straight to hell. I've tried to bury it, to ignore it."

"But you can't, can you?" Phillip asked, his voice understanding. "Look, it's not dirty, Mason. It's not wrong, and you're not going to hell for it. You were just a kid trying to figure out who you are. We're all just trying to figure out who we are, that's all. And I'm pretty sure God doesn't hate us for it."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air in the RV was thick with understanding and desire. "But we can't," Mason whispered, his resolve wavering. "We can't let anyone know. We'll be outcasts."

"We're already outcasts in a way, aren't we?" Phillip countered. "We're different from everyone else. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe it's time we started embracing it." He leaned in closer, his breath tickling Mason's ear. "Go on, buddy. Give yourself a little squeeze. I won't tell anyone."

Mason's hand trembled as he obeyed Phillip's command, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of his missionary pants. He closed his eyes, feeling the tingling sensation spread through his body as he began to explore his own desire for the first time without the weight of religious guilt crushing him.

Phillip's smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Mason's hand move more confidently.

The brunet teen's touch grew bolder, his hand wrapping around the shaft of his swollen member, stroking it gently through the material. The feeling was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and fear that had him gasping for air.

As Mason's hand moved with newfound confidence, Phillip leaned closer and whispered with thick arousal, "Does it feel good, buddy? To finally touch yourself without feeling guilty?".

Mason nodded, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Y-yeah," he managed to croak out. "It feels... it feels amazing."

Their eyes met again, and in that moment, the unspoken truth passed between them—they were both in this together, two young men bound by a shared secret and a mutual yearning for acceptance and pleasure.

With a gentle tug, Phillip leaned Mason back onto the pillows that lined the RV's bench seat. The brunet's hand, still wrapped around his own erection, trembled as he felt the weight of Phillip's gaze upon him. The blonde's hand mirrored Mason's, both of them stroking themselves in silent rhythm as their eyes remained locked.

Then, without warning, the son of the bishop leaned in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to the other boy's. It was a kiss that spoke of friendship, of understanding, and of the shared desire that had been simmering between them for years. Mason's green eyes fluttered shut as he felt the warmth of Phillip's mouth, the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his breath.

Mason's free arm snaked around Phillip's broad shoulders, pulling the blonde closer as their kiss grew more urgent. The friction of their bodies against each other sent waves of pleasure crashing through them both. Their hands continued to move in unison, each stroke of their fabric-covered cocks echoing the rhythm of their passionate kisses. The sound of their muffled moans filled the small space of the RV.

Mason's resolve crumbled like a sandcastle in the face of Phillip's seductive touch. He couldn't help himself any longer. With a surge of passion, he straddled Phillip's lap, their shirtless torsos pressing together. The heat from their bodies melded into one as their kiss grew nastier, tongues entwining in a dance of lustful need. The blonde's arms wrapped around Mason's back, pulling him in closer as their bulges ground against each other through the barrier of their trousers. The friction was exquisite, igniting a fire within them both that could no longer be contained by the rigid constraints of their Mormon upbringing.

Breaking the kiss, Phillip's voice was strained with urgency. "We don't know how long we're going to be stuck here, Mason," he panted, his eyes still locked onto Mason's flushed face. "Let's make the best of it, while we can."

Mason nodded, excited to be touched and pleased by someone, someone who he'd been crushing on, for the first time. "Yeah," he responded quietly.

...