Trade Agreements - Part 7/?
anonymous
November 14 2010, 18:58:01 UTC
“Huh?” she asked, confused. Then she smiled in an odd way. “Is that another way of saying ‘Lay back and think of England’?”
Oh dear. She’d taken his statement in completely the wrong way.
England laughed, blushing slightly. “Uhm…not exactly, love. You’ll see. Just relax.” Tonight is only about you, he wanted to say. But he knew that, with the way he was and what he was feeling at the moment it would come out much less poetic than he wanted it. He would show her with actions, instead.
He chuckled to himself as he leaned forward to claim her neck again, giving her open-mouthed kisses and sucking gently as he undid her bra himself. He pulled back to remove it, and she bit her lip as it was pulled down her arms and disregarded over the edge of the bed.
With the confinement of the bra gone, they were freed and became their actual size, instead of being pushed back into her chest. They perked outward, milky and smooth and beautiful, with her rose-red nipples peaked on their apexes. She had an odd little scar on one, but he wouldn’t ask about it. He had his own scars, some of which he was sensitive about-he would not think about a scar on his right temple that had been caused by a bayonet-and he knew something like that could absolutely ruin the mood. Questions like that were meant for quieter times.
At the sight of her revealed flesh, he felt himself twitch within the confinement of his pants. Ukraine sucked in a breath as she felt it against her thigh, and his reaction was to blush heavily because she rubbed herself against his leg in an action that was more reflex than anything.
“Uhm…?” Ukraine regained control of her own functions, shifting on the bed slightly. Her arms went to cover herself, becoming self-conscious again. “I…I told you they were even bigger than they looked, and people give me a hard time about it sometimes and…”
“Sh, love,” mumbled England gently, comfortingly. Pressed his thumb gently over her lips. “Shush, sh, sh, sh…”
Slowly, he cupped the swell of her breast and felt it fill his hand. It was more than one hand alone could accommodate, but soft and smooth and pliant. With a gentle squeeze, he palmed it and heard her give a weak gasp above him. He found himself examining her erect nipples, and eventually looked up and murmured, “You’re sensitive here?”
“Very.”
“Too sensitive?”
Her breathing hitched in anticipation and all she could get out was a zealous, “No.”
That was all the permission he needed. A thumb pressed into one nipple, while his mouth went to the other. She arched and gasped, something in Russian or Ukrainian bursting from her mouth. He mouthed the nipple and as much of the surrounding flesh as possible, enjoying the taste of her skin and the smooth feel of it. He was well aware of the fact that so many women couldn’t resist this feeling, and could be taken to ecstasy with just this touch alone.
Ukraine was one of them. She was wriggling beneath him already, and when he went into it earnestly; not just mouthing, but honest-to-goodness sucking and swirling around it with his tongue, she was incoherent. He didn’t even know what language she was speaking, but he was pretty sure it was an unintelligible mixture of at least four. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he took as much of her other breast as possible into his hand and squeezed in a massaging manner.
When he felt the one nipple had been paid enough attention, he kissed away from the one nipple to the other one. The cool air hit her and she cried, “Ah!” and twitched from deep within her stomach. He thigh, which was still between her legs, rubbed up and down absentmindedly. This made her jump and keen.
“A-Arthur…oh!” she whined. He bit down on her nipple and pinched the other, and moved his hand down on her so his hand was cupping her sex. Stinted whimpers escaped from her mouth, thinking he was giving her a chance to calm down. But then, with a flick of his wrist, he had pulled the zipper of her slacks down and he was touching her through the thin fabric of her panties. Her wetness had soaked the silk fabric, and it slid against his fingers. He figured it had to be an exquisite feeling for her.
Oh dear. She’d taken his statement in completely the wrong way.
England laughed, blushing slightly. “Uhm…not exactly, love. You’ll see. Just relax.” Tonight is only about you, he wanted to say. But he knew that, with the way he was and what he was feeling at the moment it would come out much less poetic than he wanted it. He would show her with actions, instead.
He chuckled to himself as he leaned forward to claim her neck again, giving her open-mouthed kisses and sucking gently as he undid her bra himself. He pulled back to remove it, and she bit her lip as it was pulled down her arms and disregarded over the edge of the bed.
With the confinement of the bra gone, they were freed and became their actual size, instead of being pushed back into her chest. They perked outward, milky and smooth and beautiful, with her rose-red nipples peaked on their apexes. She had an odd little scar on one, but he wouldn’t ask about it. He had his own scars, some of which he was sensitive about-he would not think about a scar on his right temple that had been caused by a bayonet-and he knew something like that could absolutely ruin the mood. Questions like that were meant for quieter times.
At the sight of her revealed flesh, he felt himself twitch within the confinement of his pants. Ukraine sucked in a breath as she felt it against her thigh, and his reaction was to blush heavily because she rubbed herself against his leg in an action that was more reflex than anything.
“Uhm…?” Ukraine regained control of her own functions, shifting on the bed slightly. Her arms went to cover herself, becoming self-conscious again. “I…I told you they were even bigger than they looked, and people give me a hard time about it sometimes and…”
“Sh, love,” mumbled England gently, comfortingly. Pressed his thumb gently over her lips. “Shush, sh, sh, sh…”
Slowly, he cupped the swell of her breast and felt it fill his hand. It was more than one hand alone could accommodate, but soft and smooth and pliant. With a gentle squeeze, he palmed it and heard her give a weak gasp above him. He found himself examining her erect nipples, and eventually looked up and murmured, “You’re sensitive here?”
“Very.”
“Too sensitive?”
Her breathing hitched in anticipation and all she could get out was a zealous, “No.”
That was all the permission he needed. A thumb pressed into one nipple, while his mouth went to the other. She arched and gasped, something in Russian or Ukrainian bursting from her mouth. He mouthed the nipple and as much of the surrounding flesh as possible, enjoying the taste of her skin and the smooth feel of it. He was well aware of the fact that so many women couldn’t resist this feeling, and could be taken to ecstasy with just this touch alone.
Ukraine was one of them. She was wriggling beneath him already, and when he went into it earnestly; not just mouthing, but honest-to-goodness sucking and swirling around it with his tongue, she was incoherent. He didn’t even know what language she was speaking, but he was pretty sure it was an unintelligible mixture of at least four. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he took as much of her other breast as possible into his hand and squeezed in a massaging manner.
When he felt the one nipple had been paid enough attention, he kissed away from the one nipple to the other one. The cool air hit her and she cried, “Ah!” and twitched from deep within her stomach. He thigh, which was still between her legs, rubbed up and down absentmindedly. This made her jump and keen.
“A-Arthur…oh!” she whined. He bit down on her nipple and pinched the other, and moved his hand down on her so his hand was cupping her sex. Stinted whimpers escaped from her mouth, thinking he was giving her a chance to calm down. But then, with a flick of his wrist, he had pulled the zipper of her slacks down and he was touching her through the thin fabric of her panties. Her wetness had soaked the silk fabric, and it slid against his fingers. He figured it had to be an exquisite feeling for her.
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