Press

8 September 1964

Use your suspension of disbelief about the window not breaking :)

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The elevator ride was quite a long one. Paul's hotel suite was nearly at the top floor.

The room itself had a large bay window, an excellent view of the New York City skyline. The biggest city in the world. No wonder Sinatra sang about it.

The city lights shone onto the dark night sky, the distant sounds from the street nearly silenced by the height.

"The view's really nice, isn't it?" You said wistfully. He'd really come a long way since those dingy rooms in Hamburg.

"Yeah." He said, matching your tone.

"You've really done it now."

You turned to him, pride showing in your eyes. Paul was already a big-head, and all this would definitely inflate his hubris. He'd always be the same as before though, well meaning at the very least. Such an optimist, his positivity infectious.

You ran your hands across his chest. No longer wearing nothing but leather, their image had changed. Maybe for a more wholesome look, the type of lad to bring home to your parents. Funny, what knaves they really were. You liked the collarless jackets, but man could you not take him seriously when he was still wearing it during sex. It was like getting pounded by a man wearing a bib.

Paul was relaxed this evening, savoring the gentle touches. His eyes fell shut.

"You pretty thing. You've made it. Congrats. You can relax now."

Paul let out a breath. You touched the sides of his neck, running them up to his cheeks. You cupped them, feeling their softness.

You pressed your lips against his delicate ones. He exhaled, the breath falling on your upper lip. They were still a bit cold from the chill outside.

Keeping your lips on his, you began to loosen his tie. You undid his suit jacket buttons, then moved to his shirt, revealing his immaculate pale skin. You ran your hands over his bare chest. Paul was rather warm here.

You undid his trousers, slipping your hand in, wrapping it around the smooth skin of his member. It was only just stirring from the attention.

"You deserve it, don't you Paul?"

He hummed in response, eyes still shut. What a deep sweet voice.

You gave him a slow, lingering stroke. You enjoyed feeling him harden in your hand, the blood making it swell. Usually Paul was already straining in his pants by the time you started. He was always excited for what was to come. The skin was so delicate and heated, this sensitive organ.

You twisted it more, flicking your wrist. Paul's deep voice shuddered. It seemed that he was craving to be doted on tonight. You were much obliged.

Paul's body weight bore down on you as his legs became weaker. He certainly wasn't as dainty, he was much larger than you in fact, both in height and weight. It seemed that he forgot at times. Sweet thing.

You held your ground, giving him another lingering squeeze, making Paul gently gasp.

As you gazed out the large window, you had an idea. You detached your hand from Paul's length, and he looked at you confused.

"Come," you said.

You gently held his body, guiding him over to the window. Paul pressed his hands against it, stabilizing himself. He turned to look at you.