Press

19 December 1962

Paul and his band returned to Hamburg for their third and final stretch of performances at the Star-Club, 34 days after their last departure. This time, they were being paid £67 per week. Despite this, Paul didn't seem too keen on fulfilling their contractual obligation, which would end on December 31st. Though he had fond memories of the city and the people there, his carrer had really begun to take off in England. He'd been playing at more prestigious venues, along with many television and radio appearances, not to mention his success in the charts.

You were all for showing your support, you would see his shows, but visiting the loud crowded nightclub every night was a bit much. Sometimes you'd walk around the city at dusk, cold clear air against your face, watching the running water in the canals and the distant sounds coming from various buildings and bars.

You decided to visit the same store in which you found the lavender vibrator. While there, you noticed something in the window that caught your eye.

---

That night you were moving the vibrator in and out of him, twisting around the spiral end. Paul was being very loud, as the angle slid and pushed against his prostate, vibrating at moderate intensity. This seemed to be the best setting, as it would make him more and more sensitized instead of just building up to an orgasm.

He rolled his hips in rhythm with your movements, his head tilted back and mouth agape. Paul moaned and hummed, such sweet noises. Poor thing was too out of it to take notice, but a small amount of drool was moistening his bottom lip. His talking and singing voice was very lovely, but this was a whole different level. You felt lucky to hear the need pour out of his lips, sweeter than his ballads.

You were laying between his legs, resting on your elbows. You pushed his right thigh upwards with your other hand busy with the toy. His member lay stiff on his soft stomach. He wasn't muscular, but you liked the feminine softness of his body, the delicate pale skin and curves.

"Do you think I could try fucking you?" You asked.

"Fucking me?" Paul slurred, dazed. "You already do that."

"No I mean, I'd be the one fucking you, see. With a prosthetic."

Realization dawned on him, his eyes widening.

"Oh."

"Come on, darlin', you'd just look so nice under me." You purred "You seem to be enjoying this so much, and I get fucked by you all the time."

You kissed his lower navel, and gazed up at him through your lashes, tracing his hip bones with your thumbs.

"I could kiss you while I do it, and press my bare chest against yours. I wouldn't have to stay down here, see. It's up to you though."

"It does feel nice." He said softly, then paused.

"But, I'd be getting fucked like a bird." He said, then muttered "Think of what they'd say about me. They already make comments about me being' too girly-like."

You moved from your place between his thighs, crawling closer to hover over him, your eyes looking down into his.

"Nobody has to know, Paulie. You'd not be getting fucked by a man. I'm not a man am I?" You said, drawing out your words. Your eyes scanned over his features, the hunger accumulating in them not well concealed.

"No, you're not." He said breathily.

You cupped his face, then slid your hands slowly over the sides of his neck, then down his bare chest. His skin was very soft.

"It'll stay between us Darling. I know you'll love it, I just know it."

"...Alright. You won't hold it over my head?"

"I don't think it's a bad thing to let happen to you, I can't hold it over your head." You said gently. "Oh I'd just love to take care of you, you pretty thing..."

He nodded. You kissed his eyelids. Then returned to pleasing him.