Fill Part 3
anonymous
September 14 2011, 00:18:14 UTC
The curtains are drawn but they’re still partly open, allowing a stream of light that illuminates the centre of the bed. It’s a made bed, with perfectly arranged sheets that are a comforting pale blue.
England shoves America down onto the mattress and slips forward after him, hands splaying over America’s bare chest as he sits atop his thighs. America’s shirt is discarded somewhere on the stairs and England is still fully clothed, wanting to appreciate the image of America’s body before he starts on himself.
And America is terrified, clinging to England’s wrists and whimpering at the slightest of touches. A harsh suck on the skin of his neck, fingers tracing from his collarbone to stomach, a hand slipping down his boxers and running up and down the length of his soft prick.
“Have you ever masturbated?” England asks, still lazily kneading at America’s cock until it starts to stiffen in his hand. “Have you ever come by yourself?”
Desperate to be touched and already shaking from the tremors of stimulation, America whines and propels into England’s grip. His voice is strangled as he answers, “Yes.”
England grins. “When?”
“C-colony.”
“When you were a colony?” England muses, sweeping a thumb over the red tip of America’s cock and gaining a hiss of approval. “Why?”
“You,” America says. His face is flushed and England can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or from arousal. “Came because of you.”
At the sound of America’s answer, England’s cock twitches. He grinds forward, his hand quickening its pace on rubbing America’s cock from root to head, precome leaking over his fingers and slicking his glide. “Me? Any particular reason?”
“Wanted you. Wanted you, England, I want you...”
Whimpering, America raises his hips as far as possible from the bed, legs held down by England and cock urgently seeking a more satisfying angle. He’s so close; it’s been a minute and America’s already about to climax. England doesn’t know why but he finds that deliciously satisfying, the weight of his own erection distracting him. He could be cruel, he knows, and deny America his release, and he contemplates whether or not he should.
But he doesn’t have time to make the decision as America spills himself over England’s hand, letting out a silent scream as his cock twitches with every hot spurt of white fluid. England strokes him through the aftershocks, encouraging America to allow himself to relax.
“I’m sorry,” America mutters, once the haze of orgasm has lifted. He looks humiliated. “Sorry, I didn’t last-”
“I didn’t expect you to,” England chuckles, wiping his hand clean on the blanket before grabbing the malleable flesh of America’s scrotum and kneading it with his knuckles. “I’m going to have you now.”
“A-alright,” America says, and he sounds determined.
“That’s my boy,” England says with a smile, and he gently encourages America to flip over onto his hands and knees, shivering from anticipation whilst gripping the bed-sheets.
Fetching a vial of oil from under the bed and dipping his fingers in and out of the substance, England takes a moment to assess the view of America’s back. Healthy smooth skin marred by scars, some of them caused by England himself- it all looks absolutely perfect.
England shoves America down onto the mattress and slips forward after him, hands splaying over America’s bare chest as he sits atop his thighs. America’s shirt is discarded somewhere on the stairs and England is still fully clothed, wanting to appreciate the image of America’s body before he starts on himself.
And America is terrified, clinging to England’s wrists and whimpering at the slightest of touches. A harsh suck on the skin of his neck, fingers tracing from his collarbone to stomach, a hand slipping down his boxers and running up and down the length of his soft prick.
“Have you ever masturbated?” England asks, still lazily kneading at America’s cock until it starts to stiffen in his hand. “Have you ever come by yourself?”
Desperate to be touched and already shaking from the tremors of stimulation, America whines and propels into England’s grip. His voice is strangled as he answers, “Yes.”
England grins. “When?”
“C-colony.”
“When you were a colony?” England muses, sweeping a thumb over the red tip of America’s cock and gaining a hiss of approval. “Why?”
“You,” America says. His face is flushed and England can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or from arousal. “Came because of you.”
At the sound of America’s answer, England’s cock twitches. He grinds forward, his hand quickening its pace on rubbing America’s cock from root to head, precome leaking over his fingers and slicking his glide. “Me? Any particular reason?”
“Wanted you. Wanted you, England, I want you...”
Whimpering, America raises his hips as far as possible from the bed, legs held down by England and cock urgently seeking a more satisfying angle. He’s so close; it’s been a minute and America’s already about to climax. England doesn’t know why but he finds that deliciously satisfying, the weight of his own erection distracting him. He could be cruel, he knows, and deny America his release, and he contemplates whether or not he should.
But he doesn’t have time to make the decision as America spills himself over England’s hand, letting out a silent scream as his cock twitches with every hot spurt of white fluid. England strokes him through the aftershocks, encouraging America to allow himself to relax.
“I’m sorry,” America mutters, once the haze of orgasm has lifted. He looks humiliated. “Sorry, I didn’t last-”
“I didn’t expect you to,” England chuckles, wiping his hand clean on the blanket before grabbing the malleable flesh of America’s scrotum and kneading it with his knuckles. “I’m going to have you now.”
“A-alright,” America says, and he sounds determined.
“That’s my boy,” England says with a smile, and he gently encourages America to flip over onto his hands and knees, shivering from anticipation whilst gripping the bed-sheets.
Fetching a vial of oil from under the bed and dipping his fingers in and out of the substance, England takes a moment to assess the view of America’s back. Healthy smooth skin marred by scars, some of them caused by England himself- it all looks absolutely perfect.
Reply
Leave a comment