Press

16 October 1962

Paul had returned from playing in another Cheshire town: Runcorn. Since it was only 14 miles south, he'd come back by train instead of paying for a room for the night. Still, it was late when he returned, and he was tired from the long night of travel and performing.

What's more is that tomorrow he'd be traveling to Manchester for his first television debut, a local program called "People and Places", as well as both a lunch and dinner time show at the cavern. The program would only broadcast to the north and north-west, but you could tell the thought of being filmed made him nervous.

These were the nights where you looked after him. You didn't mind taking your time to draw out lazy moans and sluggish movements as his orgasm slowly built up. Not to be misunderstood, Paul very much enjoyed taking the lead and fucking you against various surfaces, he was as cute as a rabbit, and just as horny. However, he couldn't be that energetic all the time.

You stroked him off with both hands, and had rolled his shirt up a bit. You loved the trail of soft dark public hair that didn't quite reach his navel. It guided the eye downwards, and it was where the scent of his arousal accumulated. The dark color of it, similar to his eyebrows and hair, contrasted beautifully with his pale skin. It was also soft to the touch, not at all wiry, the heat coming off his skin warming it. It would get damp as he got more desperate, from condensation and fluid leaking down his shaft.

You would buy lubrication to use with him, you could more fluidly slide your hand up and down his length, as Paul loved a fast pace. You got immeasurable satisfaction when he came undone underneath you. He was passionate when he took charge, quick, his large but delicate hands firmly on your hips, pulling your body tight against him. Sure, he had a pretty face and feminine features, but wasn't a small man at 5'11" and 158 pounds. He was deceptively strong, easily able to maneuver or hold you up against a wall while he pounded into you rough and fast.

That being said, this was a different kind of thrill, having him exposed to you like this. Paul let loose during sex, sure, but he didn't relinguish control, putting his pleasure in somebody else's hands. You were fully clothed and clear headed, while he was lost in sensation.

He wet his lips.

"Could you, uh" he said through his moans.

"What is it?"

"What you did last time?"

"You don't have to be shy, you know."

"Yes, but it's like, 'm being fingered like a girl."

"I'm not fingering you like a girl, I'm touching something only men have."

"I know" he said "jus strange y'know."

you brought your face closer to his, looking deep into his dark lidded eyes.

"It doesn't make you less of a man, if that's what you're worried about." You pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. "you're very much a man to me, Paul. A very lovely one at that." You paused to admire his face. Teardrop shaped, doe eyed, dark arched eyebrows, petal lips which were often parted, he could be the subject of a Victorian oil painting, or a 1930s starlet. That was when he wasn't putting on his silly grins, of course. His soft cheeks bunched up, showing off his rabbit teeth. "I want you to feel nice, darling. You feel good from it don't you? You wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"I do," he said softly.

You nodded, he closed his eyes. You applied more lubrication to your fingers, and some more around his entrance. He opened his thighs a bit more. It ran down his upper inner thighs, slicking down the hair.

It was easier to finger him with the lubrication than just spit, you added a few more fingers once he could take it, covering the entirety of the spot. You could move easier, pressing into it, allowing him to feel the slight stretch. He begged for more, and curled his legs around you. You quickened your pace, pressing harder.

He whined more and more as he got close, and let out a final prolonged whine, eyes shut tightly, gritted teeth, when he finally came. You worked him through it, your hand squeezing up from the base over and over until he released it all, pressing into the spot as well.

You knew it wouldn't be long before he'd be drifting off to sleep. You rested your chin on your interlocked fingers atop his chest. You could feel his heartbeat and his chest rise and fall underneath you, as you watched his serene expression, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

"It worries me, y'know, that I like it." He said sleepily, eyes still closed. "Laying still n' lettin' you touch me. Makes me feel calm in a way, not havin' to think about things."

"You shouldn't have to be in control all the time, you've got a lot on your plate." You said "It'll drive you mad."

He shook his head gently.

"But shouldn't I? S'my job isn't it to take care of ya."

"Well sometimes, sure, but you've had a long day. Don't you think you deserve to be taken care of?" You ran a finger down the slope of his button nose. "A pretty thing like you? I don't mind at all."

Paul turned his head to the side. He got bashful when complimented, but at the same time it was a drug to him. He loved attention and he loved praise. Though it tired him out, nothing played to this like performing. He would likely receive an abundance of it throughout the years, people captivated by his beauty and passion. It fed into his ego, and he lived off it.

After that night, he was less shy about asking for it. Though he would still drill you on the regular, after a long hard day, you'd lay him down and pleasure his sweet body.