Press

20 September 1963

It was a Friday evening, and you decided to indulge in your favorite meal: Paul's erection.

He sat against the headboard, sighing as his left hand lightly held onto your hair. You took your time going down on him, enjoying every minute of it. He was so warm and heated in your mouth, the heartbeat pumping through it, twitching when you did something he liked, It was all quite delectable. The skin was so smooth, the head of it rubbery. You could taste as well as smell his arousal.

Paul made sweet noises from the bottom of his throat. His eyes were peacefully closed, and he had his mouth open in a small smile.

"Swap?" he said.

You let it fall from your mouth. You looked up at him.

"Swap?" You said.

He gave you a sly smile.

"How about I take care of yer knob for once?" Paul said.

His voice was playful, but he had a way of giving it an edge. It was a talent, conveying sexual desire through that innocent face.

Paul had a sunny disposition. His childish enthusiasm gave many the impression that he was more innocent than the others in his group. Paul didn't drop that demeanor completely during sex, but behind the eyes it was clear what he wanted. He wasn't the beacon of purity they painted him as.

"Suck off...the prosthetic?" You said

He nodded, a giddy expression about him.

You put it on, and Paul bent over in front of it, wrapping his delicate hands around the silicone shaft. His eyes were lidded as he looked up at you. No doubt that if you were really a man, you'd be at full mast.

Paul stuck out his tongue, bringing it to the tip. It seemed that he was mimicking what you would do when sucking him off, though Paul had an erotisism of his own. He tested taking a bit of the prosthetic in his mouth, pretty pink lips wrapping around it.

Paul moved his head further, looking up at you, seemingly enjoying the feeling of it filling his throat up. There was some amusement in his expression, seeing the irony of sucking off a plastic shaft. The action was simultaneously turning him on as well.

You held onto his hair lightly, gently tugging it. He moaned around the object.

"You like this, Paulie?" You said teasingly.

He looked at you, lips tilting upwards around the intrusion sardonically. Paul closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, trying to go deeper. You bet it would've felt incredible to be inside his warm wet mouth.

He went down on you as if you could really feel it. You knew Paul had a bit of an oral fixation, always bringing his fingers to his lips. He loved being kissed, a tongue sliding against his, as well as eating a girl out. He had such a pretty mouth too, smaller with pink parted lips, little rabbit teeth. God knows where it's been.

Paul went as deep as he could, gagging. He was very passionate going about it, licking the sides and all. Even though you couldn't feel the sensations, seeing him do this was thrilling enough (especially when his lidded eyes flitted up to yours, a smug expression on as he took more of it in his throat).

Your hand was still fisted in his hair. Paul made deep sounds of pleasure, as if he was enjoying a lovely meal. His hand moved down to his arousal, already exposed from before. He began to gently stroke himself as he sucked off the prosthetic.

"God, that's nice," you swooned, pressing Paul's head harder.

You knew praise would give Paul a thrill. He moaned in response, hand tightening around his shaft.

You played with the hair in your grip. You tugged on it again, making Paul's already lidded eyelids flutter. That would've made you unload right then and there.

"Want me to push your head down, Paulie?"

He opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows. He nodded and smiled around the prosthetic, the thought exciting him.

He closed his eyes as you began to push him down. He gave a throaty moan.

"Hit my leg if it's too much." You said.

Paul began to toss himself off quicker, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You fucked his throat at a healthy pace, getting your thrill from his reactions alone, his gulping noises and choked moans. He tried to go deeper of his own accord. Paul's hair felt nice in your hands, his body heat and condensation warming it. It was very soft.

Paul grabbed your hips, forcing the prosthetic deeper as a high whine escaped him. His eyes were squeezed shut, wrinkling his nose. He had taken his hands off his member, but he rutted against the crumpled sheets, riding himself through it. You stroked his hair as he came, praising him. You told him how good he was, how pretty his noises were.

When he came down from it, he let the prosthetic fall from his mouth with a wet pop. He leaned his forehead against your stomach as you stroked his neck, damp from the excitement.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Haha nice.