More, More, More 1/4?
anonymous
October 16 2010, 00:34:53 UTC
I hope the OP doesn't mind another quick fill. I couldn't resist.
---
America was the one to make the first move. England recalled the day America had gotten him alone in a conference room after a meeting and fidgeted while looking a mix of angry and embarrassed. He’d stuttered and rambled, leaving England to wonder what he was on about and why he was angry, but before England could voice his irritation, America finally just blurted out what he’d been trying to say all along.
“I kind of like you, all right?!”
England had blinked at America’s bright red face, trying to parse those words, and then his own face had burned. Of all the ways for America to express his feelings, it had to be in such a childish way. Regardless, it was still what England had wanted to hear for a very long time, but rather than voice his own feelings (“I’ve been madly in love with you for centuries, you ridiculous fool”), he kissed America, then dragged him back to his hotel room.
There was no denying that he’d had sex with a great deal of people. He’d fucked, been fucked, and remained a lonely old man the rest of the time. With America, he was hoping to end that loneliness. His original intention was to spend the night fucking America until they both couldn’t move, too many years of longing finally coming to fruition, but then he’d gotten America naked, and his plans changed completely.
England had always fancied America as having a nice body. His diet was atrocious, but he exercised so much to make up for it that there was no way that America couldn’t have a nice body. What he wasn’t expecting was the picturesque figure that lay beneath America’s sloppy three piece suit. Strong, firm biceps, a smooth chest leading down to delicious abs that England had touched in fascination before he continued his descent downwards. America had a lovely arse, too, but although he’d wanted to fuck that originally, he was much more distracted by what else was bared when England pulled off America’s boxers.
America’s cock was already very hard, even just after some intense kissing, but America getting ahead of himself was irrelevant. America’s cock was perfect. Long, but not too long. Thick, but not too thick. It was absolutely perfect, the likes of which he’d never seen even after being with many others. He had to have it inside him. He needed it inside him. He drew a shaking finger up its length, licking his lips all the while. America, meanwhile, thrashed beneath him and gave him a desperate look.
With America so desperate and willing, England couldn’t hold back any longer. He hoisted himself up to kiss America, then flipped them over so America was on top. It became rapidly clear that America wasn’t a virgin (and England made a mental note to find out who had slept with America and remind them that one never touches a pirate’s treasure), but he was still rather inexperienced. So with America’s wonderful cock inside him, England coached America through it, resulting in the best sex England had ever had, hands down.
---
Although England was quite pleased in the following months with their Special Relationship becoming even more special. But sometimes he’d get so desperate for America, because no dildo or elaborate fantasy could possibly compare to the real experience of having America and his perfect cock inside him, that he’d take an impromptu trip across the Atlantic to surprise America. Then he’d barely get in the door, jetlag be damned, before he’d insist on America bending him over the table in the foyer to fuck him while he gasped things like “oh, my love- Yes- Yes--!” Then England would have to practice his gentlemanly restraint for most of the trip, even if he still jumped America when he was fresh out of the shower, or demanded to be fucked when America was cooking breakfast, shagged on America’s sofa in the early afternoon, made passionate love underneath a tree in America’s yard… England couldn’t help that his beloved had a magnificent cock that fit perfectly inside him and pushed him past a threshold of pleasure he hadn’t known existed. America was always perfectly willing to oblige him, too, wonderful teenage stamina that he possessed and all.
More, More, More 2/4?
anonymous
October 16 2010, 00:35:45 UTC
But that brought England back to his present dilemma. He was visiting America again, and although America had him on his hands and knees that morning moaning and rocking back to drive America’s cock deeper and deeper, it was still only the second day of his visit, and he was rather unbearably randy. America, darling boy, was oblivious to his dilemma, of course.
Much to England’s chagrin, he’d somehow been roped into getting lunch at McDonald’s or Burger King or whatever other grease palace America was frequenting, and so he sulked in the passenger seat of America’s hybrid. America had the radio on and was singing along to a station that played “the best mix of oldies” and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. England looked at him and scoffed, then planted his chin firmly on his hand and glared out the window.
As if mocking him, the radio then began to blare a rather familiar song that made England groan, and, of course, America just had to sing along obliviously.
“If you want my body and you think I’m sexy, come on, sugar, let me know,” America sang, tapping his fingers and jiggling his leg in time to the beat while England stared at him. Only America could make something so ridiculous so painfully arousing. He wondered if America had any idea what he was singing and what it was doing to his passenger. England let his gaze drift from America’s face down to his crotch, where he knew that a magnificent dick was hiding behind those jeans. They dragged to a halt as America stopped at a light, and England looked up at his face again.
“If you really need me, just reach out and touch me. Come on, honey, tell me so,” America continued to sing, then noticed that England was staring at him and he turned to smile and wink.
“Fuck me,” England demanded and took off his seatbelt. America gaped and flailed as England crawled out of his seat and over into America’s.
“Wh-What? I’m driving! Hey, hey, move, England!” America squawked and tried to shove England back into the passenger’s seat, but to no avail. England managed to squeeze himself onto the floor in front of America, where he reached for the button and zipper on America’s jeans.
“England, quit it, I’m serious,” America said, half trying to stop England and half trying to keep his eye on the road.
“Your own fault for being so sexy, my love,” England said with a smirk as he got the zipper down. He reached into America’s jeans, poking through America’s boxers to retrieve America’s rapidly hardening cock. He licked his lips and then leaned forward to take America into his mouth.
“Fuck. Fuck. England, stop- ah-” America gasped as England set to work sucking him off.
More, More, More 3/4?
anonymous
October 16 2010, 00:36:28 UTC
America’s cock was a bit too big for England to take the whole thing in his mouth without running the risk of choking himself, but that didn’t stop him from taking in as much as possible. He swirled his tongue around the length, earning a strangled noise from America, and sucked as if he had a popsicle. He fondled America’s balls at the same time as he continued to lick and suck at America’s cock. Of course America the beautiful had to have a beautiful cock to match, one that he needed inside him as much as physically possible. It was the first time he’d had it in his mouth, and as he sucked greedily, he knew it definitely wouldn’t be the last time.
“England,” America moaned, and England looked up at America’s flushed face to see him rapidly turning the steering wheel. They suddenly jerked to a halt, America’s cock leaving England’s mouth with a pop, then America practically tore off the hand brake.
“Fucking hell, England,” America said thickly and started pulling England up off the floor. England growled and pounced America, gripping his hair as he kissed him roughly and ground himself down against America’s exposed cock.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” England groaned into America’s ear as he pushed him down lengthwise against the seats.
“Shit. Backseat first,” America said, his face twisting up in discomfort as he was laid down against the seats. England moved off of him just long enough for America to crawl into the backseat and haphazardly pull off his clothes, then England followed and quickly removed his trousers and boxers, then straddled America. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, then pressed them into his arse, not taking as much care to stretch himself as he might otherwise, as desperate to have America inside him that he was.
He gripped America’s cock, magnificent, perfect, marvelous, and lowered himself onto it, moaning in pleasure and relief as he took it into his arse. He rocked his hips downwards so it went deeper and deeper, and he only vaguely registered America’s hands on his hips, guiding him. He splayed his hands on America’s chest as he lifted his hips slightly, then slammed them back down, shivering as his body adjusted to accommodate America. He took it slow at first, swiveling his hips and thrusting shallowly onto America, so he could savor the feeling of America’s cock moving inside him. It fit so perfectly and brought him such intense pleasure that it reinforced his belief that America, beautiful, wonderful, ridiculous America, was always meant to be his.
“Oh, America,” he moaned as he took up a faster rhythm, America’s hands keeping him from falling away, and he gasped and threw his head back in pleasure as his prostate was struck. He moved with such intensity that the car was likely shaking, but he didn’t care if someone might get the wrong idea. They could be jealous that they weren’t having sex with America. America himself gasped and panted beneath him, thrusting his hips up to meet England, England taking each thrust greedily with his own, wanting America deeper and deeper inside him.
More, More, More 4/4
anonymous
October 16 2010, 00:37:14 UTC
England finally came with a gasp, fisting his hands on America’s chest, and America followed after, his semen leaking out of England’s wonderfully abused arse. He carefully pulled himself off of America and dragged a finger through the mess on America’s stomach.
America watched him for a few moments, catching his breath, then he sat up and shook his head.
“Jesus Christ, England. How the hell can you be so fucking horny all the time?”
England just smirked and stuck his finger, covered with his own cum, into his mouth. America grumbled and blushed brightly.
“I’d almost say you just loved me for my dick,” America said miserably, and England’s smirk fell off his face. Well, of course the fact that America was very well endowed was a marvelous bonus, but that wasn’t the only reason he loved the boy.
He took America’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. America returned the sentiment, and they stayed locked in an embrace like that until they finally broke away and England brushed America’s still damp fringe out of his eyes.
“I am rather fond of you for many reasons, you fool,” England said firmly, but affectionately. America grinned at him.
“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he said brightly, then peeked over England’s shoulder. His eyes widened as he realized just where they were and then he beamed at England. “Would you look at that! We made it to McDonald’s, after all!”
England groaned as America set to work cleaning himself up and redressing, and England followed at a slower pace. Here he’d been hoping that McDonald’s would be forgotten after that round of ardent lovemaking.
But as he followed America into the restaurant, he was already brewing up ideas on how he could get America to utilize that ridiculous strength of his and fuck him up against the wall later that night.
Re: More, More, More 4/4
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:46:17 UTC
That was so hot! England's need for America's cock was wonderfully expressed, in very different ways, all of them alluring, different and dirty. Mmmm, I thoroughly enjoyed this
Re: More, More, More 4/4
anonymous
October 24 2010, 18:28:29 UTC
Damn is England sure kinky as hell here. He's kinda like a....succubus. I want my naughty succubus England now! Was very close to bursting out laughing when America said England just loves him for his dick. Oh Alfred you have no idea.
---
America was the one to make the first move. England recalled the day America had gotten him alone in a conference room after a meeting and fidgeted while looking a mix of angry and embarrassed. He’d stuttered and rambled, leaving England to wonder what he was on about and why he was angry, but before England could voice his irritation, America finally just blurted out what he’d been trying to say all along.
“I kind of like you, all right?!”
England had blinked at America’s bright red face, trying to parse those words, and then his own face had burned. Of all the ways for America to express his feelings, it had to be in such a childish way. Regardless, it was still what England had wanted to hear for a very long time, but rather than voice his own feelings (“I’ve been madly in love with you for centuries, you ridiculous fool”), he kissed America, then dragged him back to his hotel room.
There was no denying that he’d had sex with a great deal of people. He’d fucked, been fucked, and remained a lonely old man the rest of the time. With America, he was hoping to end that loneliness. His original intention was to spend the night fucking America until they both couldn’t move, too many years of longing finally coming to fruition, but then he’d gotten America naked, and his plans changed completely.
England had always fancied America as having a nice body. His diet was atrocious, but he exercised so much to make up for it that there was no way that America couldn’t have a nice body. What he wasn’t expecting was the picturesque figure that lay beneath America’s sloppy three piece suit. Strong, firm biceps, a smooth chest leading down to delicious abs that England had touched in fascination before he continued his descent downwards. America had a lovely arse, too, but although he’d wanted to fuck that originally, he was much more distracted by what else was bared when England pulled off America’s boxers.
America’s cock was already very hard, even just after some intense kissing, but America getting ahead of himself was irrelevant. America’s cock was perfect. Long, but not too long. Thick, but not too thick. It was absolutely perfect, the likes of which he’d never seen even after being with many others. He had to have it inside him. He needed it inside him. He drew a shaking finger up its length, licking his lips all the while. America, meanwhile, thrashed beneath him and gave him a desperate look.
With America so desperate and willing, England couldn’t hold back any longer. He hoisted himself up to kiss America, then flipped them over so America was on top. It became rapidly clear that America wasn’t a virgin (and England made a mental note to find out who had slept with America and remind them that one never touches a pirate’s treasure), but he was still rather inexperienced. So with America’s wonderful cock inside him, England coached America through it, resulting in the best sex England had ever had, hands down.
---
Although England was quite pleased in the following months with their Special Relationship becoming even more special. But sometimes he’d get so desperate for America, because no dildo or elaborate fantasy could possibly compare to the real experience of having America and his perfect cock inside him, that he’d take an impromptu trip across the Atlantic to surprise America. Then he’d barely get in the door, jetlag be damned, before he’d insist on America bending him over the table in the foyer to fuck him while he gasped things like “oh, my love- Yes- Yes--!” Then England would have to practice his gentlemanly restraint for most of the trip, even if he still jumped America when he was fresh out of the shower, or demanded to be fucked when America was cooking breakfast, shagged on America’s sofa in the early afternoon, made passionate love underneath a tree in America’s yard… England couldn’t help that his beloved had a magnificent cock that fit perfectly inside him and pushed him past a threshold of pleasure he hadn’t known existed. America was always perfectly willing to oblige him, too, wonderful teenage stamina that he possessed and all.
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Much to England’s chagrin, he’d somehow been roped into getting lunch at McDonald’s or Burger King or whatever other grease palace America was frequenting, and so he sulked in the passenger seat of America’s hybrid. America had the radio on and was singing along to a station that played “the best mix of oldies” and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. England looked at him and scoffed, then planted his chin firmly on his hand and glared out the window.
As if mocking him, the radio then began to blare a rather familiar song that made England groan, and, of course, America just had to sing along obliviously.
“If you want my body and you think I’m sexy, come on, sugar, let me know,” America sang, tapping his fingers and jiggling his leg in time to the beat while England stared at him. Only America could make something so ridiculous so painfully arousing. He wondered if America had any idea what he was singing and what it was doing to his passenger. England let his gaze drift from America’s face down to his crotch, where he knew that a magnificent dick was hiding behind those jeans. They dragged to a halt as America stopped at a light, and England looked up at his face again.
“If you really need me, just reach out and touch me. Come on, honey, tell me so,” America continued to sing, then noticed that England was staring at him and he turned to smile and wink.
“Fuck me,” England demanded and took off his seatbelt. America gaped and flailed as England crawled out of his seat and over into America’s.
“Wh-What? I’m driving! Hey, hey, move, England!” America squawked and tried to shove England back into the passenger’s seat, but to no avail. England managed to squeeze himself onto the floor in front of America, where he reached for the button and zipper on America’s jeans.
“England, quit it, I’m serious,” America said, half trying to stop England and half trying to keep his eye on the road.
“Your own fault for being so sexy, my love,” England said with a smirk as he got the zipper down. He reached into America’s jeans, poking through America’s boxers to retrieve America’s rapidly hardening cock. He licked his lips and then leaned forward to take America into his mouth.
“Fuck. Fuck. England, stop- ah-” America gasped as England set to work sucking him off.
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“England,” America moaned, and England looked up at America’s flushed face to see him rapidly turning the steering wheel. They suddenly jerked to a halt, America’s cock leaving England’s mouth with a pop, then America practically tore off the hand brake.
“Fucking hell, England,” America said thickly and started pulling England up off the floor. England growled and pounced America, gripping his hair as he kissed him roughly and ground himself down against America’s exposed cock.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” England groaned into America’s ear as he pushed him down lengthwise against the seats.
“Shit. Backseat first,” America said, his face twisting up in discomfort as he was laid down against the seats. England moved off of him just long enough for America to crawl into the backseat and haphazardly pull off his clothes, then England followed and quickly removed his trousers and boxers, then straddled America. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, then pressed them into his arse, not taking as much care to stretch himself as he might otherwise, as desperate to have America inside him that he was.
He gripped America’s cock, magnificent, perfect, marvelous, and lowered himself onto it, moaning in pleasure and relief as he took it into his arse. He rocked his hips downwards so it went deeper and deeper, and he only vaguely registered America’s hands on his hips, guiding him. He splayed his hands on America’s chest as he lifted his hips slightly, then slammed them back down, shivering as his body adjusted to accommodate America. He took it slow at first, swiveling his hips and thrusting shallowly onto America, so he could savor the feeling of America’s cock moving inside him. It fit so perfectly and brought him such intense pleasure that it reinforced his belief that America, beautiful, wonderful, ridiculous America, was always meant to be his.
“Oh, America,” he moaned as he took up a faster rhythm, America’s hands keeping him from falling away, and he gasped and threw his head back in pleasure as his prostate was struck. He moved with such intensity that the car was likely shaking, but he didn’t care if someone might get the wrong idea. They could be jealous that they weren’t having sex with America. America himself gasped and panted beneath him, thrusting his hips up to meet England, England taking each thrust greedily with his own, wanting America deeper and deeper inside him.
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America watched him for a few moments, catching his breath, then he sat up and shook his head.
“Jesus Christ, England. How the hell can you be so fucking horny all the time?”
England just smirked and stuck his finger, covered with his own cum, into his mouth. America grumbled and blushed brightly.
“I’d almost say you just loved me for my dick,” America said miserably, and England’s smirk fell off his face. Well, of course the fact that America was very well endowed was a marvelous bonus, but that wasn’t the only reason he loved the boy.
He took America’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. America returned the sentiment, and they stayed locked in an embrace like that until they finally broke away and England brushed America’s still damp fringe out of his eyes.
“I am rather fond of you for many reasons, you fool,” England said firmly, but affectionately. America grinned at him.
“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he said brightly, then peeked over England’s shoulder. His eyes widened as he realized just where they were and then he beamed at England. “Would you look at that! We made it to McDonald’s, after all!”
England groaned as America set to work cleaning himself up and redressing, and England followed at a slower pace. Here he’d been hoping that McDonald’s would be forgotten after that round of ardent lovemaking.
But as he followed America into the restaurant, he was already brewing up ideas on how he could get America to utilize that ridiculous strength of his and fuck him up against the wall later that night.
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...ya sure you dont wanna continue?~
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That shouldn't have amused (aroused) me as much as it did but (oh England) it was (very) hot too. Nice one anon. ;D
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Good gods anon, you're wonderful! That was so fucking hot. England saying it over and ove rand over and damn. Awesome.
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OP certainly doesn't mind a second fill! Not at all!
ILU ANON! THIS WAS JUST WHAT I WANTED.
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Was very close to bursting out laughing when America said England just loves him for his dick. Oh Alfred you have no idea.
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