Date: Fri, 14 Sep 2001 15:37:05 EDT
From: BeecherIsTheMan@aol.com
Subject: Awakening Paul II

	"How old are you, anyway?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.  He was
sitting at the end of his bed, looking up at me propped up near the
headboard.
	"Is that a trick question?" I asked.
	"Well, my dad's 50, so you must be, like..."
	"Forty five," I responded.  It seemed fairer to cut him off.  "Why?
How old are you?"
	"Seventeen."
	"You're too young for me."
	"Well, I get older, I've found.  And at any rate, what difference
does it make?"  He was making a good point in the long run.  It wasn't like
I was going to be giving him up anytime soon.  But it was dangerous that he
knew that.
	"It makes all the difference in the world.  Your father would
absolutely kill me if he had any idea...."
	"He's got every idea, I'm sure.  Not that I'd ever tell him."  He
put the cigarette he was smoking out in an ashtray on his dresser.  I
sighed as he pulled a T-shirt on over his hairy chest and poochy belly.
	"Why are you attracted to me?"  I wasn't sure what I was asking
until it came out of my mouth, and even then, I didn't know what I was
thinking about.  He frowned as if he hated the question.
	"Because you're attracted to me, I guess?"  He shrugged and smiled.
"What kind of question is that?"  I looked at him as if to ask what kind of
answer THAT was.  "You're a very attractive man, Paul.  I like the whole
blonde hair blue eyes thing.  You're also very smart.  And you've been in
my life since the day I was born.  Even though we've never met."
	"What do you mean by that?  I've been in your life?"
	"Well, you're the other end of my father's income.  And you bought
me presents every Christmas, even though I'm Jewish."
	"Actually, my wife did that, sent Christmas gifts to everyone she
could think of.  I, on the other hand, am Atheist."
	"Agnostic," he replied.
	"I thought you said you were Jewish."
	He walked to the side of the bed and lit a candle.  "My family's
Jewish, so I'm Jewish by default.  But I've done a lot of religious
searching and...nothing fits.  I'm working it out.  I'd rather assume
there's a higher power than assume there's nothing, but I really hate that
I'm supposed to think my higher power's God."  I could tell he was
passionate about this religious thing.  I was always attracted to people
who could talk religion after giving a blow job.  Well, I'd never actually
met anyone who'd done so, but say that I had, I can almost guarantee you
I'd find him attractive.  "So.  Why're you attracted to me?"
	"I don't know," I replied instantly.  "You've got something about
you.  Makes me want to cry."  Brutal honesty is weird.  It always freaks
people out.
	"Come here," he beckoned.  I sighed and just stared at him for as
second, standing at the foot of the bed now, awaiting.  He nodded his head
behind him.  "Come on," he said.  I continued to lie on the bed, wondering
if he would come to me.  He did.
	He crawled on top of me and began kissing my chest, pulling at the
hair with his teeth.  "Ow!" I exclaimed.
	"Shut up, you big baby," he said, continuing on about his business.
I laughed a little.  "I wanna fuck you," he said.  I was suddenly awakened.
	"You wanna what?"
	"I wanna fuck you," he repeated, licking my nipples.
	"I've never done that before," I said, clearly not receptive.
	"You dated MY father, and YOU were the top?"
	"What is that supposed to mean?"
	"It means turn the fuck over.  You'll like it."  I sighed, grabbed
his head, and forced him to look at me.  He could tell I was begging, I
knew.  I couldn't turn him down, but I couldn't see learning new things
today, either.  "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you," he said.  I frowned
indecisively.
	"I've seriously never had anything bigger than my middle finger in
there," I said.  He shrugged.
	"You're missing out," he said.  I continued to lie there.  "Come
on, Paul.  Yes or no.  I've only got the rest of my life to wait here."
His annoyance made it harder to say no.
	"OK, fine.  But none of that freaky shit that you do."
	"All freaky shit aside.  I promise."  He stood and began walking
across the room.  He grabbed a tube of KY Jelly from the top drawer of his
dresser and proceeded back to the bed.  He sat down next to me and leaned
in to kiss me.  I pushed him over and took the tube from his hand.
	"Allow me," I said, opening the tube and applying it freely to his
cock.  I was taking no chances that there wouldn't be enough.
	"Mmm, that's good," he moaned, apparently not knowing my motives.
His cock began to stiffen as I lubricated it.  I leaned into his chest and
took one of his nipples into my mouth.  He became fully erect at this
action, having always had a weakness for the chest region.  "Stop that, or
I won't be able to control myself."  He sat up and pushed me onto a pillow.
"Get up and on all fours," he said, demandingly.  I was really beginning to
enjoy this.  "What, I can't even give you a hard-on anymore?"  he asked.  I
started to muster a response, but he didn't seem to care.  He grabbed my
shoulders and positioned himself conveniently behind me.  "You'll just feel
a little prick," he said.  "Well, not little..."  I laughed a little.  He
used the opportunity to slip the head of his dick in.
	"Shit," I muttered.  "Syd, you've got to give me better warning."
	"OK.  I'm going to start going in now," he said.  Continuing to
hold onto my shoulder with his right hand, he placed his left in the small
of my back.  That made me feel better, for some reason. He began gliding
slowly into me.  The muscles were involuntarily tightened.  I shuddered.
	"Oh, my God," I began.  As slowly as he went in, he began pulling
back.  I couldn't understand how I'd done this to someone, not knowing how,
really.  He brought his left hand down and began massaging one of my ass
cheeks.  "H-how far in did you go?" I asked.
	"Mmm, not far.  Halfway."
	"Go all the way this time," I said.  He maintained the same slow
pace and pushed his dick much, much further, it seemed into me.  I could
nearly have come just thinking of the depth.  "Oh, fuck," I started, "Go
faster, Syd."  He picked up the pace slightly, so that he was probably just
making sure I was OK, less than having a good time.  "No, I mean, just..."
	"Too fast?"  He asked.
	"No...faster.  Go ahead, Syd."  He began speeding up gradually, not
instinctively as I would have.  My cock was growing stiff.  I was starting
to feel his balls slapping against the cheeks of my ass.  I reached up and
grabbed the headboard.  "Oh, Oh, Syd," I moaned.  He was definitely
achieving his full speed.  "Fuck me faster, Syd," I begged.  He sped up a
little. He was adding a grunt now.  "Faster," I asked.  He slapped my ass
hard and placed his hand in the center of my back.
	"God dammit, I can't go any faster!" he yelled, driving in and out
of me at light speed.
	"Fuck me harder," I said, lightly.  "Syd, fuck me harder," I
shouted.  He placed his other hand on my shoulder and began pulling me into
him, hard.  "OH, oh.." I grunted, shooting my load into the sheets below
me.  He continued fucking me, driving harder and harder with every push.
His fingernails dug into the flesh of my back and pulled down as he came,
continuing to push his cock into me, more slowly now, but still managing.
He lost all ability to move when he came, but still continued fucking my
ass, slowly, like at first, milking every bit of cum out into my
asshole. He wrapped his arms around me and fell onto my back, allowing me
to collapse to the bed.  We dozed off while he remained inside of me.

	"Daddy, Tracy's got my Barbie," greeted me at the front door.
Marcia.  The demanding one.
	"You're home late," my wife, Nadia, said.  She kissed my cheek.  I
nodded and walked up the steps.  She followed me.
	I went into my bedroom and pulled off my coat, then loosened my tie
and pulled it off, throwing it onto the bed.  Nadia sat and looked up at
me.  "So.  How was work?"
	"Fine," I replied.  I took off my suspenders and unbuttoned my
shirt.
	"Your secretary called looking for you."  My interest was peeked.
	"Yeah?"
	"Said she hadn't seen you since lunch.  Wanted to know if you'd
gone home for the day?"  I was good with improvisation.
	"I had a meeting with Dr. Lamaar Jamieson."
	"Who's he?"
	"Ummm, an addiction medicine specialist," I said, tossing my shirt
on the bed.  "We went to school together.  He was in town."  I pulled my
undershirt off and tossed it on the bed.  I reached into my pocket and
pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
	"When did you start smoking again?" Naida asked.  I shrugged, lit
my cigarette and tossed both the pack and the Zippo on the night stand.  I
turned and headed toward my closet.
	"What's that scar on your back?"