Re: Finally [2/2]
anonymous
March 29 2009, 17:06:28 UTC
“Just trying… to get this over with…”
“America, you look like you need to lie down. I guess this means that you’ll be bottoming today?” said Russia.
“Look. If you want to get this over with,” whispered England, quickly undoing America’s belt buckle, “Follow my lead.”
Before America could respond, England yanked down his slacks in one sharp motion and pushed him onto the conference table.
“Oh God…” America moaned, more in embarrassment than arousal.
“Just shut up,” said England, “I don’t like this any more than you do. Probably less.” England took a bottle of lube out of his pocket and then began rubbing it onto his hands.
“You - you just kind of keep that… with you…?”
“I said shut up!” repeated England, putting his hands around America’s member. As he rubbed it to life, he managed to elicit soft moans from him. Was… was he actually enjoying this? Thought England with disgust, and was he always like this? So submissive? Not that he was complaining, of course, but it seemed out of place.
He then started at America’s entrance, too many fingers and not enough lube, America giving a sharp cry. Once England deemed him ready - probably not ready enough, but ready enough for now - he undid his belt and unzipped his fly, re-wetting his fingers and used them on himself and again at America’s entrance, thinking that if he wasn’t stretched enough it was the least England could do. He finally tore off America’s pants completely so he could line up his cock at the other’s entrance.
“Oh God, I can’t… believe… this…” America moaned again.
“I said shut UP!”
England shoved in harshly, America screaming. Didn’t that git understand that he didn’t like this, either? That he hated that tight, warm feeling around his -
And sometime, as England thrusted, the screaming stopped. America’s legs tightened around England’s hips. England knew now that America was actually enjoying this, the bastard, that he’d probably wanted this for so long, God, what a whore -
And America came, splattering all over England’s dress shirt, and England rode out America’s clenching to his own orgasm, shooting deeply within America.
England, spent, finally looked up to the man he’d been fucking, seeing him very limp, his glasses askew and face pale and ashy, too much blood from his shoulder spreading over the table, mingling with his blond hair.
Sometime in the middle of it all, America had passed out. Between the shock, arousal, and blood loss, it had been too much.
And England still had his hands on America’s thighs, his limp cock still within him, too. Russia put his revolver away, and began to clap for the couple.
Re: Finally [2/2]
anonymous
March 29 2009, 18:14:13 UTC
Oh fuck, anon that was great. Everything flawlessly executed, and this anon is strangely intensly loving the fact that America bottomed. Excellent fill! (Not OP)
“America, you look like you need to lie down. I guess this means that you’ll be bottoming today?” said Russia.
“Look. If you want to get this over with,” whispered England, quickly undoing America’s belt buckle, “Follow my lead.”
Before America could respond, England yanked down his slacks in one sharp motion and pushed him onto the conference table.
“Oh God…” America moaned, more in embarrassment than arousal.
“Just shut up,” said England, “I don’t like this any more than you do. Probably less.” England took a bottle of lube out of his pocket and then began rubbing it onto his hands.
“You - you just kind of keep that… with you…?”
“I said shut up!” repeated England, putting his hands around America’s member. As he rubbed it to life, he managed to elicit soft moans from him. Was… was he actually enjoying this? Thought England with disgust, and was he always like this? So submissive? Not that he was complaining, of course, but it seemed out of place.
He then started at America’s entrance, too many fingers and not enough lube, America giving a sharp cry. Once England deemed him ready - probably not ready enough, but ready enough for now - he undid his belt and unzipped his fly, re-wetting his fingers and used them on himself and again at America’s entrance, thinking that if he wasn’t stretched enough it was the least England could do.
He finally tore off America’s pants completely so he could line up his cock at the other’s entrance.
“Oh God, I can’t… believe… this…” America moaned again.
“I said shut UP!”
England shoved in harshly, America screaming. Didn’t that git understand that he didn’t like this, either? That he hated that tight, warm feeling around his -
And sometime, as England thrusted, the screaming stopped. America’s legs tightened around England’s hips. England knew now that America was actually enjoying this, the bastard, that he’d probably wanted this for so long, God, what a whore -
And America came, splattering all over England’s dress shirt, and England rode out America’s clenching to his own orgasm, shooting deeply within America.
England, spent, finally looked up to the man he’d been fucking, seeing him very limp, his glasses askew and face pale and ashy, too much blood from his shoulder spreading over the table, mingling with his blond hair.
Sometime in the middle of it all, America had passed out. Between the shock, arousal, and blood loss, it had been too much.
And England still had his hands on America’s thighs, his limp cock still within him, too. Russia put his revolver away, and began to clap for the couple.
England felt sick.
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Great fill, anon!!
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soooo creepy. I love it. America needs to get fucked while shot more often. Also, I love your practical!Ivan.
"Yes, like that," and only having eight bullets left ~smile~
*hugs crazy Ivan*
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thanks anon
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...sequel? Pwetty pwease? *puppyeyes*
ReCAPTCHA The illusion Oh, you mean pants, Captcha?
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