Paul stood at the terrace
window, looking across the manicured lawn, not seeing another house. So
different from living in a terraced flat in crowded Liverpool. How he
missed that life. The ability to leave his flat and seeing friends,
neighbors. Here he was closed off, away from human contact.
A hand touched his back and then he was hugged from behind. "What's the
matter Paulie?"
It was a lost discussion to try to make John understand how he was
feeling. Thought John suspected it from the start.
John nuzzled his neck, licking and giving sloppy kisses.
Paul gave a heavy sigh, wondering why he was doing this, what he was
doing.
John heard the sigh and decided that he had to make a bolder move. He
let one hand start teasing Paul's bare chest, finding the ready nipples
while the other moved down to his short and rubbed the half hard cock.
Paul closed his eyes, letting the sensations rush through him. John
wanted him and he wasn't going to let his dour mood get in the way. He
had learned it was useless to fight John. Soon the hand was in his
shorts rubbing his hardening cock.
Paul let his head loll back onto John's shoulders as he played his body.
"You're such a slut Paulie." John kissed in his ear.
Paul closed his eyes once more and thought, 'I'm your slut.'
John pulled Paul away from the window and laid him down on the cushions
that littered the floor, stripping Paul of his shorts, his one and only
piece of clothing.
John took to the released cock like a starving man. Paul's hips surged
forward when John took it deep. "Lennon!" he shouted.
John worked his lips and tongue, keeping Paul on the edge, he tried to
figured out the game John was playing and never quite grasping what John
was going to do next.
Paul finally flipped John on his back and was kneeling between his
legs. Not thinking, driven by his need, Paul found the tube of ointment
that had been used not to long ago, he slicked him self up and took John
in one thrust.
John encouraged him, "That's it Paulie, take me." He laid back and Paul
made deep hurried thrusts. He knew that if he kept Paul on edge he
would finally get to the point frustration.
Paul watched as Lennon challenged him still. "You bastard." He snarled.
"And loving every minute of it." John smiled as Paul warred with
himself.
Paul swore under his breath and thrust deep into John. John wanted
this. He moved, taking hold of John's wrists and shoving into John in
short deep strokes.
"That's it, split me. Show me you're my master."
Paul was there but he was going to push beyond that, he was going to
make John come from his cock. Tilting his hips he started stroking
John's prostrate on each stroke, making John hitch in breath, lose his
determination.
John arched his back, his cum spilling.
Paul kept his pace feeling the pull of the muscles, his cock pulling him
over the edge, as John's own orgasm subsided. He filled John with his
cum, giving him what John so rightly deserved.
Pulling out, Paul dropped onto his back, panting.
Once they had recovered, John rolled onto his side, looking at Paul. "I
always knew you could fuck McCartney. You just needed some
inspiration."
Paul closed his eyes. John was so crass, controlling, and he did it
again. He felt John shift away from him.
This was life, getting his John fixes, enjoying being used, controlled.
He let him do it. He knew that. Why? Because John offered him
something no one else had done. He loved him.
With a sigh, Paul opened his eyes, looking to see where John had gone
off to. He stood, and made his way to his lover. |
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