Chapter 1

Warning/Note: This story is rated NC-17. I also messed with the timing of events just a little, for the sake of the story. Apologies to anyone who's a timeline purist! I promise it's not super inaccurate. :) 

I wasn’t the type of girl to lie to my parents. I was the type of girl who came home at the end of the day, told my mom everything over tea and biscuits, dutifully did my homework, and then went to sleep at a civilized hour. But there was something about those boys that made me forget that I had ever been a good girl. There was something about those boys—especially one of them—that made pleasing my parents the last thought I had. I had only seen a picture of them in a magazine on a newsstand, but that was enough.

So on a chilly day in December 1962, I convinced my equally well-behaved best friend to lie to her parents and sneak off to the Reeperbahn, the place all good schoolgirls like ourselves were warned to never go. It was the type of place that would eat you alive and then spit you out, corrupted and incapable of reentering polite, civilized German society.

Knowing that made it all the more exciting to me. But Anna was clearly less enthusiastic.

“They’re just a band, Stella. And besides, what kind of name is The Beatles? You know what it sounds like, right?”

“But they’re British, so it’s not dirty! They don’t know what it sounds like in German! Don’t be dumb.”

We finally reached the Star Club, which didn’t look like it had actually hosted anyone close to being a star. Carefully making our way down the narrow, dank staircase, we nervously pulled out our IDs. “Ok, but remember – curfew is at 10:00pm sharp! I’ll be watching to make sure you leave. The Beatles’s last set for tonight will be over by then, anyway.”

The Beatles were set to go on at 9:00pm; glancing at the watch my parents had given me for my 16th birthday only three months before, I saw that it was already 8:45pm. I was surprised that there weren’t more people there.

“Let’s get a seat in the front!” I encouraged Anna.

“But why? We can still hear back here, and it won’t be so loud!”

“Stella wants to be close to that guitarist. What’s his name, again?,” chided Karl, who had insisted on accompanying us, in order to provide physical protection. At 5’11’’ and no more than 150 pounds, Karl seemed hardly able to stand his ground against the veritable human refrigerators who frequented the street outside the club, but Anna and I humored him anyway.

“So what if I do? He’s so beautiful! His name is George. It’s not like I have a chance with him, anyway; he probably has some gorgeous girlfriend. Besides, he’s 19 years old.”

I could tell that Karl was about to say something, but then stopped himself. Anna always said he was completely in love with me; I’m fairly certain that’s true. I had known Karl since we were six years old, so the idea of kissing him was slightly repulsive to me, but I never had the heart to give him any clear indication that he had no chance with me.

Regardless, his reaction embarrassed me, so I forced myself to become very interested in making sure my chestnut brown hair sat just right. Pulling out my makeup kit, I touched up my blush and lipstick.

“Seems like someone thinks she has a chance, anyway …” Karl whispered to Anna, loud enough so that he knew I could hear him. I was about to launch a retort at him, when the Star Club owner came onstage.

“Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the Star Club! Tonight we proudly present to you the famous Beatles, straight from England!”

I vaguely remember catching a glimpse of the bassist and thinking his baby face was cute, but everything stopped for a second when I saw George. While Paul and John exchanged clever quips aimed at each other and the audience, George quietly strapped on his guitar, pulling the neck up so that he could complete one last tuning. Something about the way he concentrated so intently on making sure his guitar was tuned perfectly turned me on in a way I had never experienced before.

And then they started playing. George sang lead on the first song, in a lilting Scouse accent that seemed to me both endearingly innocent and unspeakably sexy. His slender fingers slid up and down the fretboard with an ease clearly wrought from hours upon hours of practice. As the song progressed, beads of sweat began to dot his forehead, just below his thick, shaggy hair. His black t-shirt began to stick to his chest, and I could tell that by the end of the song, his black leather jacket had become uncomfortable. My suspicions were confirmed when he quickly took it off, tossing it on top of Paul’s amp. Without his jacket, it became clear to me that he was surprisingly muscular, given his slight build.

Paul took the lead vocal on the next song, but I hardly remember it because that’s when I began to notice George staring at me. At first I thought he was simply returning my glances, but then I began to test him. I’d look down and fiddle with my purse, or bracelet, and then look up suddenly enough to catch him off guard, so he wouldn’t have time to look away. By the second half of the set, I had gained enough confidence to smile at him without worrying whether he saw or not. Between two songs, I decided to take a leap of faith and smiled at him right as he was looking at me. George responded with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on a boy. His entire face lit up and suddenly, he transformed from a young, yet tough-looking rocker, to a goofy, endearing kid. Somehow, this made him all the more attractive to me.

Before I knew it, the set was over. When Paul announced that the next song would be their last, my heart dropped into my feet. Would I ever see George again? Was he just flirting with me because that’s what rock musicians do? Was he even flirting with me at all, or was I misinterpreting everything he did? Just as I had convinced myself that I’d never see him again, much less speak to him, Anna shook me. “Stella!” she said sternly, pointing up towards the stage. I turned and saw George Harrison standing right next to the table.

“Good evening, love. I thought I’d introduce myself, since we’ve been talking with our smiles all night. I’m George Harrison.”

“Hello, George! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you there! I’m Stella Kircherr.” I tried to sound casual. But was that too casual?

“Don’t even worry about it, love. I know it’s getting near your curfew, but our set is over anyway. You wouldn’t want to take a walk with me near the water, would you? After a show, I have to get some fresh air, and that’s the best place.”

My, this boy is forward! I thought. Usually, I’d never take a walk at night with a boy I barely knew, but George somehow made me want to do things I never thought I’d do.


Anna and Karl looked dumbfounded.

Laughing a little—and trying not to sound nervous—I turned to them and said, “You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure George can take me home after our walk. Right, George?”

“Of course! Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” George tried hard to seem mature, but his slight build and boyish features made that difficult. Obviously hesitant but knowing I couldn’t be convinced to change my mind once I’d made it up, Anna and Karl left.

Watching them leave, George turned to me and broke out into that boyish grin again. “I’m so glad you decided to stay! Lemme just pack up me guitar, and we’ll be off! Are you ok staying there, or do you want to wait backstage?”

I was surprised that George cared to ask me what I was comfortable with. He didn’t seem like a typical rocker. “I’ll be fine here.”

George returned in a few minutes, and led me out of the club with his hand on the small of my back. Even just that little touch made my heart beat quickly.

If his hand on my back has this effect on me, what am I going to do if he kisses me? I thought.

The water was only a 15-minute walk from the Star Club. There weren’t many people there, since December in Hamburg is pretty frigid, even away from the water. I began to regret not bringing a sweater to cover my shoulders, though I was happy I wore my light yellow strapless dress with the white flowers and my white ballet flats. I thought I looked a little bit older and rather pretty in that outfit. George seemed to think so too, since I noticed him stealing glances as we exchanged the stories that people exchange when they’re getting to know each other.

Suddenly, George stopped walking and looked concerned. “You look like you’re freezing, love! You’ve got goosebumps! Can’t believe I didn’t do this before. Don’t know what I was thinking.” He quickly removed his leather jacket and wrapped it tightly around me, rubbing his hands up and down my shoulders and upper arms. “Is that better?”

I turned to him and smiled. “Yes, George, that’s much better, thank you. But your jacket doesn’t cover my face, and my nose is pretty cold.” Wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my hands on his lean, but muscular shoulders, I tried to look seductive.

George grinned mischievously. “I think I have a solution for your problem, love.” He said, and kissed me lightly on the nose. “Does that help any?”

Running my hands through the back of his hair, I answered, “Yes, but I’m still a little cold.”

“Where, love?”

I gently took his hands and placed two of his slender fingers on my lips. George grinned and, leaning in, pressed his lips against mine. “You’re a naughty one,” he whispered against my lips, placing my arms around his torso before wrapping his arms around my waist.

I attempted to answer, but could manage only a groan, as George began to kiss me more deeply than I had ever been kissed before. Even though he was only three years older than me, it was clear to me that George was experienced. He knew how to set the pace without seeming domineering. I found myself involuntarily pressing my pelvis against his. I could feel his bulge in his jeans.

George slid his hands up my back and, pulling me in close to him with one hand, began to explore my torso and chest with the other. He used the tips of his fingers to trace small circles and lines along the thin fabric that covered my left breast. I gasped from the shock of ecstasy that surged through my stomach and pelvis when his fingers grazed over the fabric covering my nipple.
In return, I slowly worked my way under George’s t-shirt, sliding the palms of my hands up his stomach and chest. I then ran my hands down his back and rested them on the top of his butt, pulling him closer to me.

“Someone is getting impatient, eh love?” George grinned, finally pulling out of the kiss that had begun a full 10 minutes earlier.

I looked down bashfully, sure that George knew how inexperienced I was.

Gently taking my chin in his hand, he directed me to look at him and said, “Hey, love, that’s not a bad thing! I’m a bit impatient, meself, too.”

As if to prove his point, George pulled his shirt off. Not wasting a minute, he immediately scooped me up in his arms and engulfed me in a kiss.

I had never shown a boy my breasts before, but found myself wanting George to see them. So I pulled back from him tentatively and began to undo my dress, revealing my bare breasts.

George smiled, obviously satisfied with what he saw, and began to kiss me, first on the lips, then working his way down to my neck, collarbone, and finally began gently sucking on my breasts, flicking my nipples with his tongue. I began to moan involuntarily from the pleasure George was providing me.

Responding to my encouragement, George began to slide his hand up my inner thigh and rubbed me through my panties. “You’re so wet, love, now why would that be?” I smiled sheepishly at George, who grinned and then resumed kissing my right breast.

I couldn’t feel George move my panty aside, but the next thing I knew, he was rubbing my clit with his thumb and manipulating me from inside with two fingers. I moaned as I ran my fingers through his thick, dark brown hair. George then quickly removed my panties, stuffed them into his jacket pocket, and rose up to meet my eyes. At first, I was confused about the fact that George stopped before I came.

But then I felt his erection against my thigh and realized what was about to happen.

“Are you sure you want to do this, love? If you don’t mind me asking, is this your first time?” George asked, gently running his fingers along my cheek and tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I tried to sound confident, but my confidence waned as I answered his second question. “Yes, it’s my first time.” I said, looking down and nervously fingering the hem of my dress between two fingers.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m going to be very gentle.” George answered quietly, kissing me on the forehead. Bending down to meet my gaze, he said, “Now you tell me if anything hurts, ok? Anything at all. Ok, love?”

“Ok.” I answered, managing a smile. My heart beating rapidly, I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed George and answered, “I’m ready.” It was almost true.

George unbuckled his wide leather belt and unzipped his faded jeans, freeing his hard cock. Deftly putting on a condom (I could tell he had done this many times while not entirely sober), he picked me up and gently placed me on the stone barrier separating the walkway from the river. Spreading my legs, he moved in between them and gently penetrated me.

I gasped at the pressure, but then relaxed as I realized how much I had wanted George to be inside me.

“Christ that’s good, Stella,” George said, breathing heavily and penetrating me deeper and deeper. Penetrating me the deepest yet, George pressed his sweaty chest against my breasts and whispered, “You like it when I go deep, little girl?”

“Yes.” I gasped, unable to think clearly, much less talk.

“You’re a naughty little schoolgirl, staying out past curfew.”

Suddenly losing my inhibitions, I joined the game. “You’re a naughty boy, taking a girl like me to a place like this.”

Surprised, I guess, that I was getting into the game, George laughed a little. “You’re not as innocent as you look, you know that, baby girl?”

I kissed George deeply and whispered against his lips, “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

I then slid my hands around his torso and down his back, pulling his pelvis towards me, as if to force him to penetrate me even deeper. George moaned with pleasure, rubbing his chest up and down against my breasts, in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Stella baby I’m so close!” George began to thrust into me harder, as sweat dripped down his face and he closed his eyes, biting his lips, barely able to contain himself. I closed my eyes as well, tilting my head back and moaning. I longed to become one with George … I never wanted him to pull out of me.

I then felt an overwhelming warmth and surges of ecstasy radiating through me. Opening my eyes, I realized that George and I had come at the same time.

Still inside me, George kissed me and whispered against my lips “Did you like that, baby girl?”

Kissing him back, I answered, “Yes – I want you inside me forever.”

George grinned against my lips. “You know, love, with that kind of talk, you’re gonna be getting me hard again. And then I’ll never get you home.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, you could stay with me tonight, if you don’t mind putting up with my bandmate Paul.”

I grinned and kissed George on the cheek. “Sure. I’d love that.”

George finally pulled out of me and helped me off the ledge.

We finally arrived at the dingy hotel George’s band was staying at. Quietly opening the door, George whispered, “Shh, we’ve got to be quiet. Sometimes if Paulie doesn’t get lucky, he gets depressed and goes to sleep. Don’t want to be waking him up on those nights.”

I guessed that it had been one of those nights, since the room was dark and quiet, save for some light snoring coming from a lump on one of the beds. I could only see Paul’s tossled hair.

George led me to the other bed, and quickly threw off his jacket, shirt, and jeans and jumped into the bed with only his briefs on. I removed my dress, bra, and panties, and climbed in next to him.

George climbed on top of me, planting kisses all over my face and neck. “This is much more comfortable than the harbor, eh love?” I grinned and nodded, as George began to caress my breasts gently.

Wrapping my arms around his torso, I pulled George closer to him and could feel his erection against my thigh. Suddenly, I wanted to take him in my hand, but I didn’t know why. Simply going on instinct, I worked my way down to his inner thigh. Knowing what was about to happen, George pulled away from me enough to allow me room. I took him in my hand and gently ran my hand up and down his shaft. At my touch, George began to groan with pleasure. “Oh, baby girl …”

Looking up at him, I whispered, “Am I doing it right?”

George laughed a little and, kissing me, answered breathily, “Yes, love. Yes, you’re doing it right.”

I continued to run my hand up and down his shaft before I suddenly got an idea. “Lay down on your back, George.”

Obviously pleasantly surprised by my decision to take some control, George did as he was told. I climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach. George took my breasts in his hands, obviously unable to help himself, with them right in front of him. I began kissing George as deeply as he had kissed me, rubbing myself against his stomach. George groaned with pleasure, running his hands down my back and butt.

I then began to move my way down George’s thin, but beautiful body. I kissed his neck, collarbone, chest, and stomach, before reaching my destination. I had done so many things that night that I’d never done before, and I found myself much less scared than I thought I’d be. I wanted to please George and make him feel good.

So I bent down and took his erect cock in my mouth. George gasped with surprise, evidently expecting just a hand job. “Jesus, girl! You’re incredible!” I ran my mouth up and down his shaft, judging my success by how much harder he got as I continued. Barely a minute had passed before I felt hot cum hit the back of my throat. George tried to pull out, so he wouldn’t continue to come in my mouth, but I made it clear that I wanted to swallow.

I smiled inside when I realized I had succeeded in making a 19 year old, beautiful British guitarist come. Twice.

I helped George back into his briefs and cuddled up next to him, laying my head on his chest, wrapping my legs around one of his, and tracing circles on his chest and stomach. George wrapped his arms around me and wrapped both of us up in the thin blanket the hotel had provided.

“I’m so glad you came to our show, baby girl.” George whispered, running his hands through my hair.

“So am I,” I answered.

“Goodnight, Stella love,” George whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Goodnight, George.” I said, kissing him. I drifted off to sleep in his arms, dreaming of guitars, smoky Reeperbahn clubs, and British boys with shaggy hair and kind eyes.

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