Date: Mon, 27 Aug 2001 19:39:21 EDT
From: BeecherIsTheMan@aol.com
Subject: Awakening Paul

	The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes.  The deep green
always jumped out at me, best perhaps due to the full head of jet black
hair.  He might've been the most self-deprecating person I'd ever known,
this was something you could tell just by looking at him.  He was 5'6", 185
lb..  The excess weight would've been a turn-off on just about anyone else
I could imagine, but something about him just beckoned me, and I couldn't
see turning him down.  His name is Sydney.
	I first met him when he came up to the office to help his father
and I move furniture.  His father's name is Geoffrey, and we're business
partners in medical practice.  We've known each other for thirty years.
What brought us together was medical school.  I lost my virginity in high
school and, although I had a helluva sexual nature, I mostly stayed away
from the ladies, a strangeness I could not understand until I met Geoffrey.
He had spent an evening at my apartment studying, and eventually one thing
led to another.  I fell very much in love with him, but it was unrequited.
Geoffrey only came to be with me when he wanted to have sex.  He did this
with many people until he finally broke down and married Sydney's mother.
It's amazing the facts a woman can ignore about her husband once he's
impregnated her.  Their marriage lasted a whopping 14 years before he
finally broke it off and pursued his homosexuality.  I could easily have
watched them go another ten, it was so amusing.
	After Geoffrey broke my heart, I decided I would only be with
women.  I met Penelope a few years after Geoffrey and hit it off in the
girl-friendliest of ways.  I resolved to marry her because she was the only
woman I could stand to be around.  Unlike Geoffrey's wife, mine had no
knowledge of my one-time homosexual relationship.  I felt no reason to
inform her.  I wasn't ever planning on having another.
	We married and had two gorgeous children, all girls.  The oldest is
now 14, the younger 8.  It wasn't terribly strange to my wife that Geoffrey
and I practiced together, but then it wouldn't have been.  I was quite
surprised to find that his wife wasn't adamantly against it, but I later
found that she had no idea that he and I had an affair.
	In the years I'd known Geoffrey after we split up, I lost all
sexual desire for him, but the sexual desire I had known when we were
involved was finally matched when he brought Sydney in to move furniture.
Our moving lasted only two days, and at first sight I knew that there was
potential in our meeting one another.  I began trying immediately to let
him know I was interested.  I spent the first day hesitating most of the
time.  Trying to get him to come into my office and move things, or help me
reach something.  I'm 6'2" and 187 lb., so it should've seemed a little
strange to him that I was asking for help, although he didn't question me
once.
	I finally got him to come into my office and help me relocate my
desk, as I had decided I liked it better by the window.  The desk was a
pretty heavy piece, and I thought I could at least get away with looking
innocent in asking him to help me.  I called across the waiting room for
him into his dad's office.  He came across and stuck his head inside.
	"Yes, sir?" he asked.  The first words spoken to me out of his
father's earshot.
	"I need you to help me move this desk across the room.  I want a
better view," I said, nodding toward the window overlooking Atlanta.
Sydney nodded and entered the room, absent-mindedly shutting the door
behind himself.  He was wearing a flannel shirt over a strange looking
T-shirt that I did not understand.
	"That looks like a heavy piece," he said, matter-of-factly.  I
nodded.  He began pulling off the flannel and tied it around his waist.
"Are you wanting to look out of the window, or have it behind you?"  I
couldn't have cared less.
	"I think I'll keep the window behind me.  That way I can see the
door, you know?"
	"That makes more sense," he agreed.  He pulled his shirt a little,
allowing some air to flow through it.  He was covered in sweat, so much so
that the shirt and his khakis were sticking to his skin.
	"Take off your shirt," I commanded, completely forgetting myself.
He answered me with a look of slight embarrassment, almost willing to
oblige.  I quickly decided to fix things.  "I mean, you should take it off.
If you're hot.  I mean, it's not like I'm open for business.  Do you think
I wear jeans and polo shirts to work everyday?"  I laughed stupidly, and he
joined in.  I could've killed myself.
	"I'm comfortable.  But thank you."
	"OK.  Don't feel like you need to keep it on because of me or
anything.  I won't think you forward or vulgar if you peel it off."  There
I go.  Using strange adjectives in my nervousness.  He noticed it all, I
think.  He sighed strangely and looked at me for what felt like an
eternity.  He frowned and immediately received my attention.
	"I don't like the way I look.  So I don't take my shirt off."  I
nodded and shrugged.  What the Hell?
	"I don't have a problem with the way you look."
	"It's not you I'm worried about."
	"Well, there's no one else here."  He had no retort.  He walked
across the room to one end of the desk.
	"I'll carry it backwards, you walk it my way."

	When I got home that afternoon, I immediately ran to the shower.  I
can't stand the feel of sweat all over my body, and really needed to find a
way to let go.  The second the warm water caught my nipples the right way,
I was ready for action.  I seated myself on the floor of the tub, propped
my legs up just right, and finger-fucked myself until I came.  Mild
satisfaction, but it only made me need this kid worse.  I had to think of a
way to get him away from his father.

	The next morning, he and Geoffrey arrived about twenty minutes
late.  They said they were having breakfast and apologized for their
tardiness, then retreated into his office to set up some bookshelves.
Geoffrey received a phone call from his lover while they were working, so
he left Sydney at lunch time to finish the bookshelves alone.  Once he was
gone, I snuck across the waiting room.
	"Hiya, Syd," I said.  Sydney looked up and smiled a little.
	"Afternoon, Paul."  He looked over at his bookshelf and smiled.
"He works on it four hours and leaves it in a pile.  I get twice the work
done in ten minutes."
	"He tends to get sidetracked," I offered.  As if Sydney wasn't
aware.  "Wanna drink?"  I asked him, knowing that if he was any kind of
teenager he would gladly partake.
	"Umm, no, I think.  It's too early.  I'll have some water, though."
	"Suit yourself, " I said.  He followed me across to my office.  He
seated himself on my couch and waited on me to bring him the water.  "So,
do you have a girlfriend?" I asked.
	"Hardly," he replied.
	"Why not?"
	"I don't attract women," he said.
	"Oh?  What do you attract?"  He shifted nervously on the couch.  I
felt way out of line.  "Do you play any sports?"
	"Some tennis."
	"Really?  I play tennis.  You know, I need a doubles partner.  I
never have anyone to play with."  He shrugged, a gesture I couldn't read at
this point.  I walked over to the couch and sat down next to him.  He sat
back as if he were comfortable, but I couldn't help thinking I was putting
him out.  This morning he hadn't done any moving, so he smelled of Irish
Spring, Perry Ellis and cigarettes.  "Do I make you uncomfortable?"
	"Yes," he responded, very quickly.  I was shocked with the
abruptness of his response.  It was as if I'd crawled in his head.
	"Why?"
	"I don't know," he said, half-whining, half-aggravated.  I reached
over and placed my hand on top of his.
	"I'm sorry if I make you nervous," I began.  His whole body tensed
as my hand lay on top of his.  I really wanted it on the back of his head,
playing with his hair.  I moved my hand back to my side.  I sighed and
almost cried, I was so embarrassed.  "I didn't mean to..."
	"Please," he said.  I stopped.  He was really trying hard to talk
to me.  "Please don't try to make it sound like an accident."
	We sat together, listening to the other breathe for a few moments.
His was heavy, and troubled.  Mine was more or less anticipatory.  I could
feel my cock stirring in my pants listening to him breathe.  I wanted that
very breath on my neck so badly that I could almost feel it there as it
were.
	"Fuck," he said.  I looked over at him, surprised with the random
expletive, as he buried his head in his hands.  "I wanna..." he trailed off
and grasped a handful of hair in his fists.  He stood and walked across the
room and leaned up against the wall in absolute agony.  He turned and
looked at me, then turned back and punched the wall with enough force to
hurt himself, but not enough to break anything.  I rushed over.
	"What are you doing?"  I asked, concerned.
	"It's just something I do, it...relieves the tension."  He turned
his back to me, never once having looked me in the eye.  Ten thousand
thoughts ran through my mind as I looked at this dumpy kid with painful
longing as my cock grew to the stiffest and most painful I had ever felt
it.  I lifted my hand in an effort to touch Sydney, but held myself back at
first, staring at the back of him.  I kept telling myself that I had to
hold back, but urge took over as I snatched him into my hard on and began
breathing onto the side of his neck.  I could feel my cock pulsating
against his ass cheeks.
	"Do you want this?" I whispered harshly into his ear.  I heard him
whimper a little such that I did not know whether it was a longing to get
away or ecstasy.
	"Fuck, yes," he said.  I snatched him around and kissed him full on
the lips, a feeling I had never enjoyed until just then.  He began fumbling
with my pants, trying to get them unbuttoned with me continually jerking
him in various directions.
	"Quit fucking with that," I demanded, as I ripped open the flannel
he was wearing.  "Go to my desk," I said.  I went over to my door and
pushed it closed, then locked it.  I unbuttoned the front of my trousers as
I began walking over to him, eyeing him hungrily.  "What do you want me to
do to you, Sydney?"  He sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them back
up.
	"I want you to get over here and fuck me."
	"You want me to fuck you?"
	"Yes, I want you to fuck me."  I stood in front of him as he sat at
the side of the desk and let my Dockers fall down around my ankles.  I
pulled down my boxers and revealed 7 1/2" of pulsating cock.  He moaned at
the sight, and for a second I thought he might come.  "Christ, I need that
inside of me."  He pulled off his T-shirt and I began untying his shoes.  I
pulled them off and took off his pants.  He tried to stand.
	"No," I said.  He looked puzzled.  I grabbed one of his legs and
pulled it up over my shoulder, then gave him a sly grin.  He returned it.
	"Oh, fuck yes," he replied.  I positioned his other leg and pulled
him up to my cock.  I immediately thought to lube.  I licked my fingers and
began playing with his asshole, trying to loosen him up some.
	"Open that top drawer and hand me a bottle of lotion," I said.
	"No, no lube," he replied.
	"Are you serious?" I asked.
	"As a fucking heart attack, God damnit, now fuck me!"  I withdrew
my fingers from his asshole and started rubbing my dick around the area,
lubing a little with precum.  I reached over and pinched his nipples as I
slipped the head of my dick into his ass.  "Go all the way," he said,
moaning.
	"What?" I asked, surprised.
	"Take that fat piece of cock you're packing and drive it all the
way in."  I took his hands in mine and held them tightly as I quickly drove
half of the 7 1/2 inches into him.  "I wanna feel your fucking balls
against my ass cheeks, Paul.  Fuck me hard."  I immediately obeyed his
order, driving rapidly in and out of him.  Once I was in, he tightened the
muscle around my cock and made it harder for me to push all the way.  I
began pulling him into me, desperate to drive as far into him as possible.
It got so that I wanted every fucking bit of myself inside of him.  "Oh,
shit!"  he shouted.  "Oh, fucking Christ.  Oh, yes!  Fuck me, Paul.  Make
me bleed, God damnit!"  I reached up and grabbed his thighs and held on to
them.  He took his cock in his hand and started whacking off in rhythm with
my fucking.  "Oh, God damnit, Paul!  Oh, fuck!"  He covered the top of his
dick and shot his load into his hand, most of it trickling down his
stomach.  I went to draw out before I came, but he stopped me.  "I don't
want you out of me.  Come inside of me, Paul."  And I shot my load.
	His legs relaxed on my shoulders as he watched me pant with relief.
I pulled out and he sat up on the corner of my desk.  I took his
cum-covered fingers into my mouth and sucked them luxuriously.  He wrapped
his legs around me and pulled me into him, then kissed me deeply.  We
remained locked together, me standing and him sitting, until we finally
heard his father return from lunch.