Get Some 1b/1
anonymous
March 9 2011, 04:29:03 UTC
The real America whines as his body's needs pervade his mind. He can feel himself pulsing and pounding like a drum, hips thrusting forward as they reel for the final thing they need to send him over the edge. It's the last fantasy, the one he's never guilty over because people will think anything just to bring themselves off. Right?
In this fantasy it's not about him, not even close. He's barely more than a fuck-toy, but he appreciates that. It's easy to picture the swagger of the nation as he finds America bent over the couch, cleaning out the cushions. All dirty smirk as he pushes the golden boy into those cushions, canting his hips up. England unzips himself, not even bothering to loosen his belt. Spit suffices as lube and a hand as a restraint while he oh-so-slowly sinks in all the way. Large and blunt, the soft tissues that are swollen with blood swell America, pushing his resistance away as England mounts him. Every time that cock retreats, America's muscles clamp and suck, begging it to stay, then stretch and scream when it's all forced back in.
The isle is bored with it all, the writhing of the younger nation, the frustrated cries. He lights a cigarette and breathes joyfully around it, movements becoming steadier as he spoils his lungs. Comfortably masterful in his long thrusts, in the beat kept by the smack of skin on skin. America? He's just the slut around here, a thing to fuck and remember matches.
When he's good and ready, England slams forward harder, narrow hips working enthusiastically now. He doesn't care whether he hits America's prostate or not, he may or may not, either way he'll bring the lad off. He empties his lungs across America's back and shoulders as he empties his seed deep inside his boyfriend. As soon as it's done, he draws out, re-zipping himself and leaving a horny America to hump the couch.
Said nation whines and jerks, unashamedly moaning "England" to the silent house as cum coats his hand, dribbling out from between his fingers. Pleasure wracks him, whiting his eyes and burning under his skin like an injection gone all wrong. So delicious, so forbidden, and only forbidden things make him cum anymore. Only England makes him cum anymore, and as he cleans off, as he opens the window to let smoke out and cleansing Montana air in, he's okay with it, and smiles.
In this fantasy it's not about him, not even close. He's barely more than a fuck-toy, but he appreciates that. It's easy to picture the swagger of the nation as he finds America bent over the couch, cleaning out the cushions. All dirty smirk as he pushes the golden boy into those cushions, canting his hips up. England unzips himself, not even bothering to loosen his belt. Spit suffices as lube and a hand as a restraint while he oh-so-slowly sinks in all the way. Large and blunt, the soft tissues that are swollen with blood swell America, pushing his resistance away as England mounts him. Every time that cock retreats, America's muscles clamp and suck, begging it to stay, then stretch and scream when it's all forced back in.
The isle is bored with it all, the writhing of the younger nation, the frustrated cries. He lights a cigarette and breathes joyfully around it, movements becoming steadier as he spoils his lungs. Comfortably masterful in his long thrusts, in the beat kept by the smack of skin on skin. America? He's just the slut around here, a thing to fuck and remember matches.
When he's good and ready, England slams forward harder, narrow hips working enthusiastically now. He doesn't care whether he hits America's prostate or not, he may or may not, either way he'll bring the lad off. He empties his lungs across America's back and shoulders as he empties his seed deep inside his boyfriend. As soon as it's done, he draws out, re-zipping himself and leaving a horny America to hump the couch.
Said nation whines and jerks, unashamedly moaning "England" to the silent house as cum coats his hand, dribbling out from between his fingers. Pleasure wracks him, whiting his eyes and burning under his skin like an injection gone all wrong. So delicious, so forbidden, and only forbidden things make him cum anymore. Only England makes him cum anymore, and as he cleans off, as he opens the window to let smoke out and cleansing Montana air in, he's okay with it, and smiles.
Reply
Anon, oh anon, this was so hot. So incredibly, mindbogglingly hot. I have nothing to say but "thank you". You have made me absurdly happy.
Reply
Reply
What OP minds a double fill? Thank you for thinking about it!
Reply
England's total lack of caring is insanely hot. Loved some of the word choices here. Great fill.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment