Press

22 December 1962

Today was the day you'd do it, you'd gone to that shop last night and bought what you needed.

You could tell Paul was nervous as you entered the room with the shopping bag, setting it down on the nightstand. He was sitting cross legged on the bed. You turned your head to him, your face lighting up, and you embraced him from behind, loosely wrapping your arms around his stomach. You preferred the soft jumpers he wore to the leather garments. It looked nice, but the cotton and wool felt nicer to the touch, conducting his body heat, warming the fabric.

He hadn't performed yet today, so the cigarette and liquor smell of the club wasn't clinging to his clothes. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. It was warm, and the soft hair tickled your lips. He smelled nice, like himself. This was a more subtle version of the scent that radiated lower when he was fully aroused and needy, something more primal and raw.

Your hands moved lower, past the end of his sweater. You curled your hands around where his legs met his body. You weren't directly touching him there, but you could tell he was hard, aroused by both anticipation and the contours of your body pressing into his back.

Your face was buried in Paul's neck, leaving wet marks from your kisses and gentle biting. You unzipped his fly, and held the soft skin of his erection in your palm.

The proximity to his body was nice, as you could feel his reactions instead of just seeing them. You held his member tighter, and you could feel him stiffen up. You felt him sigh when you began to stroke it.

You loved the feeling of it in your hand. The skin there was the softest on his body, smooth as silk, but the intense heat seeped into your palm. He got hard quickly as he was still young, and you could feel the need in every heartbeat that coursed through it. Despite it being an organ, it was oddly immaculate, symmetrical and blemish-free, curving smoothly upward when erect. It filled with blood evenly, becoming a pleasant pink hue. The only exception was when you'd keep him on edge for a while, increasingly lighter touches, or avoiding the area completely. His dick would become desperate, painfully hard and swollen, dark red and leaking precum, veins appearing.

You worked Paul more with your hand, peering over his shoulder. He was leaning back into you, holding the duvet lightly under him in each fist. He opened his legs more as you stroked him. Each hum and sigh vibrating against your body. Your pace wasn't quick enough to bring him close, but enough for warmth to pool in his lower abdomen.

You kissed the side of his neck, then unattached yourself from his back. You came around to his front, lowering yourself to take him in your mouth.

Your mouth felt even better than your hand. You could taste Paul's desire and bury your nose in his soft pubic hair, breathing in his arousal. You loved the rubbery head at the back of your throat, making you gag. You even loved when Paul pushed your head deeper, making you choke on the girth of it. It gave you a thrill knowing it was his cock cutting off your oxygen, pleasuring him. You loved the feeling of it hot and heavy on your tongue, twitching when you moved it just right, his sweet noises coming from miles away. Call it oral fixation if you will, but your lust for him manifested in the need to shove him down your throat as deep as possible.

Your goal however, was not for him to release in your mouth. (not tonight anyway). You pulled back, a string of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to his head. You held it in your hand, moving your lips lower to his balls. You lingered there a moment, taking care not to be too rough. When you tried to move lower, your lips hit the rough dry fabric of his trousers.

"These need to come off, Darling."

Paul nodded, and laid back, allowing you to slide them off, revealing his pale shapely legs, dark hair lovely contrast against it.