Press

7 June 1963

Paul's group was now touring with Roy Orbison, and they had just finished a performance in Glasgow.

The hotel room Paul was staying in was a bit cold. Even in June, Scotland was known to have lower temperatures. This would do well with what you had planned for tonight.

You rid Paul of his black turtleneck. It was a good look for him, his brown hair and the dark fabric making his pretty face stand out. It brought out his arched eyebrows and long eyelashes. The soft warm material hugged the contours of his body very well.

You took off the rest of his clothing, trousers and all. 

Paul let you bind his wrists with satin, and you covered his eyes with a blindfold.

You'd bought a flat paintbrush the other day from a nearby store. The bristles were only about a centimeter long. You dipped it in a nearby water glass, then touched the tip of it to Paul's bare chest.

Paul jumped at first contact, not expecting the sensation of wet bristles against his skin. The wetness made him take notice of the cool air.

He trembled as you ran it slowly down to where his pubic hair began, then back up to the dip in his chest. He sunk his head into his shoulders, giggling when you ran it across his adam's apple.

"Is it ticklish?"

"Yes," he said, snickering.

Paul's breath stalled when you ran it back down again. He raised his hips off the bed in anticipation. You instead missed the area entirely, running the brush down his hip bone, then his inner thigh. Paul whined. He was beginning to get hard at the anticipation.

"Don't want to rush things, Paul." You said sweetly.

You took his heated length in your hand, just holding it. Paul jumped when you pressed the cool bristles flat against his cockhead.

You encircled the head of him with your brush, causing him to hold his breath. You focused on his slit, spinning the bristles across it, back and forth. It smeared the precum that was starting to appear.

After teasing the poor thing for a bit, you made a slow swipe down his length, down the curved spine of it. You stalled at the base, then ran it back up. You stopped at his frenulum, running the bristles up and down there.

Paul had never felt this sensation before, getting hot and bothered by the teasing stimulation. The bristles left behind trails of moisture, making the cold air hit his heated arousal.

"Make sure to keep still, Paul." You said.

He shifted his hips as you kept holding his shaft, your right hand administering the brush strokes. He moved his pretty wrists in the satin bindings.

You stroked down his length again, over his perineal raphe. You moved it down his inner thigh.

Paul groaned in frustration as you returned to moving the bristles over his entire body. You ignored him, enjoying tracing his contours too much. It slicked down his soft body hair, leaving a wet trail. You moved the brush down his sides, along the curve of his soft stomach.

Paul gasped when you touched it to his nipple. You encircled the areola, making it bud up. He arched his chest into the brush.

You ran the bristles back and forth, catching on the protrusion. It made Paul's breaths get more shallow. He moved his hips slowly matching your pace, fucking into nothing. Paul didn't seem to even mind the state of his dick, a bead of precum leaking down his shaft.

You began to move the brush up and down the middle of his chest. He cried at the loss of stimulation, the strokes too close to where he wanted it.

You moved the brush down the middle of his body again. He jerked his hips up angrily as you reached his navel.