Re: Hungary/Austria/Prussia, cunnlingus, pegging, gagging, HUNGARY IS ON TOP, is my point 1/2
anonymous
March 20 2009, 23:02:23 UTC
Until, that is, Hungary threw her head back and screamed in pleasure, her second climax rolling through her, and she ordered her music freak to screw her properly while she was still twitching with aftershocks. The pianofag sighed happily as he sank inside her, his slender, effeminate hips snapping forward as he did his husbandly duties, and Prussia realized he now had a decent chance of outlasting his rival, getting the stuck-up noble exiled from his own damn bed, and finally getting the blisteringly hot one-on-one time with Hungary he deserved.
Think of disgusting things, he told himself firmly, as Hungary began working the panhandle in tandem with the freak's practically metronomic thrusts. It was like they were both fucking him, slick and rough and smooth at once -
Disgusting things. That time he and West both tried to be sick in the toilet at the same time after a really awful drinking binge and both missed. English food. American beer.
Oh, that did it.
Even when Hungary shuddered, wrapping her legs around her husband's hips and urging the useless lightweight to go harder, faster (Prussia would fuck her like she wanted, like she deserved, like a real man) and twisted the handle inside him, his orgasm remained a comfortable ways distant.
Finally pianoboy whimpered like the bitch he was and hid his stupid girly face in Hungary's strong shoulder, his hold body tensing and going limp with his release.
American beer, Prussia reminded himself sternly.
Hungary petted her husband's back for a minute or two while his breathing evened, then pinched his butt playfully and reminded him of the rules. He stole a kiss from her lips, earning a loud, red smack across his pansy ass, before slipping on his ridiculous, dainty aristocrat's robe and padding out of the room.
"My turn now?" Prussia asked hopefully. Hungary pulled out the frying pan handle with a slick sucking noise, leaving Prussia empty and twitching, grabbed his balls in one strong hand (once a warrior, always a warrior, if you were a true one) and squeezed.
"I didn't say you could talk," Hungary reminded him.
"Oh, right, sorry, forgot about that." He winked at her cheekily, earning another cruel clenching of her already tight grip, but then, Prussia had balls of steel. And goddamn but her hand felt terrible-unbearable-perfect.
Hungary bent backwards and twisted, fishing under the rumpled covers with her other hand until she held up her discarded lace panties, balled them up, and shoved them in Prussia's mouth. He breathed in deeply through the fabric, groaning at the thick, rich, salty taste of her. Then she climbed on top of him, already open and dripping wet from her own juices and her husband's spunk and rode him like the wild, free-spirited horsewoman she was.
He moaned and thrashed underneath her, wanton and slutty and absolutely in heaven as she took just exactly what she wanted. When she shouted, "Now, goddamnit, NOW!" and clutched his hip with sharp nails and sank her teeth into his shoulder, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her glorious cunt spasming unbelievably around him, he arched helplessly and came, just like Austria had, both of them mixing and vying inside her.
She rolled off of him and leaned against the headboard, licking her bloody fingernails clean.
"You know, Gil," she told him archly, "It's really easy to tell when someone is spying through, say, a crack in the curtains, or a keyhole, or a hinge in a screen cover," (Prussia grinned at the resulting litany of memories) "if the spy in question has bright red eyes."
Prussia spat out the lovely panties with only a small pang of regret.
"Well, you know. That's just one more reason I'm awesome."
Oh god. I love you, anon. Have my firstborn, have everything I have because I'll never have a firstborn. You win and are as awesome as Prussia. That was so, so hot. And awesome. ♥
Think of disgusting things, he told himself firmly, as Hungary began working the panhandle in tandem with the freak's practically metronomic thrusts. It was like they were both fucking him, slick and rough and smooth at once -
Disgusting things. That time he and West both tried to be sick in the toilet at the same time after a really awful drinking binge and both missed. English food. American beer.
Oh, that did it.
Even when Hungary shuddered, wrapping her legs around her husband's hips and urging the useless lightweight to go harder, faster (Prussia would fuck her like she wanted, like she deserved, like a real man) and twisted the handle inside him, his orgasm remained a comfortable ways distant.
Finally pianoboy whimpered like the bitch he was and hid his stupid girly face in Hungary's strong shoulder, his hold body tensing and going limp with his release.
American beer, Prussia reminded himself sternly.
Hungary petted her husband's back for a minute or two while his breathing evened, then pinched his butt playfully and reminded him of the rules. He stole a kiss from her lips, earning a loud, red smack across his pansy ass, before slipping on his ridiculous, dainty aristocrat's robe and padding out of the room.
"My turn now?" Prussia asked hopefully. Hungary pulled out the frying pan handle with a slick sucking noise, leaving Prussia empty and twitching, grabbed his balls in one strong hand (once a warrior, always a warrior, if you were a true one) and squeezed.
"I didn't say you could talk," Hungary reminded him.
"Oh, right, sorry, forgot about that." He winked at her cheekily, earning another cruel clenching of her already tight grip, but then, Prussia had balls of steel. And goddamn but her hand felt terrible-unbearable-perfect.
Hungary bent backwards and twisted, fishing under the rumpled covers with her other hand until she held up her discarded lace panties, balled them up, and shoved them in Prussia's mouth. He breathed in deeply through the fabric, groaning at the thick, rich, salty taste of her. Then she climbed on top of him, already open and dripping wet from her own juices and her husband's spunk and rode him like the wild, free-spirited horsewoman she was.
He moaned and thrashed underneath her, wanton and slutty and absolutely in heaven as she took just exactly what she wanted. When she shouted, "Now, goddamnit, NOW!" and clutched his hip with sharp nails and sank her teeth into his shoulder, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her glorious cunt spasming unbelievably around him, he arched helplessly and came, just like Austria had, both of them mixing and vying inside her.
She rolled off of him and leaned against the headboard, licking her bloody fingernails clean.
"You know, Gil," she told him archly, "It's really easy to tell when someone is spying through, say, a crack in the curtains, or a keyhole, or a hinge in a screen cover," (Prussia grinned at the resulting litany of memories) "if the spy in question has bright red eyes."
Prussia spat out the lovely panties with only a small pang of regret.
"Well, you know. That's just one more reason I'm awesome."
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That was pretty amazing, anon. I mean...wow.
*fans self*
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ZOMGNOWAI!!! \o/
THANK YOUUU!!!
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♥ Have an internets, writernon. That was ridiculously hot.
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The gagging with her panties was especially inspired, if I may say so. *applauds*
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