Sorry, this half is darker than the first ... so heads up.


He looked confused by what I meant at first, then his eyes became large when it dawned on him. "Don't even think about it!"

How cute. He thought he knew what I was going to do. "Oh?" I started with a patronising smile. "What are you expecting?"

"Uh …" He looked away as he hesitated. "Something perverted, I'm sure …"

I gripped him by the chin, forcing him to face me. Though this time I actually did it gently. Then I let my hand trace up, brushing his cheek. I pushed aside a stray stand of hair that had fallen out of place. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get off!"

"Oh, I'm getting off all right."

"Aw, crap, that's not what I meant …"

I scooted backward, away from his face. I had been hovering over him, squatting directly over but not actually letting any of my weight rest on him. As I pulled back, I let my palms slide down his chest, smearing the tea with them. I sat up a bit, then licked the tea off one of my fingers. "There's so many options …"

"Urggh … you hurt my cut …"

I ignored his complaint. "I could give you a good wanking. That'll get you hard in no time."

"Why do you want to get me hard at all? !"

"Because …" I reached my index finger close to the tip of his member, but still just a centimetre or two short of touching. I wanted to tease him. "I want to see you fully erect. Hard, firm, brimming with anticipation for my touch …"

"UGH!" he groaned. "You really are a pervert!"

"I'll make you one too," I replied with a smirk. "Would you like … me to suck you off?"

"No way in hell!"

"Heh. I'm quite good at it. It wouldn't take long at all. You'd be a minuteman again, if you catch my drift …"

The look on his face let me know he did. The minutemen were the names of the soldiers designated to fight me and my forces back in the Revolutionary War at a minute's notice. He apparently did not like me sullying the word. Oops, was that a wee bit blasphemous to American history? Heh … how cruel of me …

"Hmm, actually," I started, "You're not good enough for that. You don't deserve it."

"I don't deserve anything you're doing to me …" he grumbled.

"Oh, yes you do. In fact … you owe this to me. After all I did for you."

"You're still bringing up all that stuff from when I was a kid? Jeez, that was like a thousand years ago!"

Idiot. Didn't even know his own age.

"Have you forgotten everything I've done for you? I fed you, sheltered you, cared for you! I gave you so much!" Those toy soldiers were still nearby, dusty amongst the rubbish. I leaned over to grab one, then brandished it in his face. "Remember this? ! I nearly broke my arm making these things for you!"

He looked stunned. I suddenly got the feeling I wasn't supposed to see them. He must not have wanted me to know that he kept them.

"Why'd you keep them, hmm?" I asked mockingly. "You could have thrown them out. But you didn't."

"Umm!" was all he managed to get out.

With one quick puff I blew the dust off the soldier. "Do you like to be reminded of the days when you were my colony too?"

"No! Not at all! I meant to throw them out, I just never got around to it!"

I let my weight drop to my knees and hands, spread on each side of him. I was on all fours, straddling over him. He didn't like my new position, and started to squirm. But then he quickly realised that doing so only made his skin brush against me more, so he stopped and settled for just glaring back at me.

"I'm being serious! Get off of me!"

I leaned down and poked my tongue out. I looked up with a wicked look in my eyes before letting it touch his skin, just a little before his navel. I licked upwards, dragging my tongue, leaving a slick trail of saliva travelling up his chest.

Mmm. He tasted like the tea.

He clenched his muscles at my touch. I felt his whole body bristle as it swelled in a sharp inhale. He grunted - a quick "ah!" almost like it pained him.

I'd wanted to do that for so long. To have him lay before me, presented as mine like he used to be, to savour, to relish, to do with as I pleased …

"Uhh!" America grunted, interrupting my thoughts. My tongue had not ceased its movements. I licked, slowly and lustfully, up him. I loved the feel of his muscles quivering beneath my tongue, tightening with each wet lap. I reached one of his nipples and latched on. I sucked, with my mouth covering it completely in a seal of suction. It hardened in my mouth, and let my tongue playfully tickle it before pulling away. That had reminded me …

I looked down. Damn it!

"You're still soft," I mused out loud, disappointed.

"I told you, I'm not a pervert like - hey! What are you doing? !"

I ran my hand down his chest again. But it wasn't like before. This time, I scooped with my fingers and palm, trying to coat as much of the tea as possible. I pulled myself off of him, resuming squatting by his legs. The expression on his face seemed relieved. That is until I started rubbing the tea over the toy soldier.

"I've enjoyed tea for many, many years," I said. "Though I have to admit, I have no idea how well it works as lube. I suppose we're about to find out."

"Oh, hells no!" he exclaimed. Again, he tried to slide his wrists from the knots. But of course he failed.

With one arm, I pushed his thigh to make sure his legs were spread far enough apart. With the other, I gripped the toy soldier, slicked with tea. I brushed it against his entrance, watching it clench in the sensation. Momentarily, I considered preparing him. Fingering him … one, two, then maybe three if I fancied. But then he suddenly broke into a fit of swears. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck me, and all this other rubbish, with filthy American slang thrown in. I hated hearing speak like that. I had told him that before. As punishment, he lost any sympathetic preparation.

I just pushed it in with one quick thrust.

"Ah-AAH!" he cried out. His body jolted backward, trying to pull away from the inserted object. But I held it in. It was almost completely engulfed. Nearly every centimetre of the toy soldier was inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching his face in pain. But I couldn't look at that for long. My attention was lower, where I could see only the little base of the toy, and that ring of muscle around it quivering in what I assumed to be pain.

Dear God. I actually was getting aroused by this. I really am a pervert, aren't I?

Of course I was. That's why I took my finger and pushed the toy the rest of the way in. I crammed it fully inside, my finger sliding in with it, still pushing to see how far I could make it go.

America bucked in protest, trying to squeeze his legs together. They were blocked by me, who was directly between them. He groaned painfully, a low noise I didn't even know he could produce. Then he resumed cursing me, flinging as many 'fucks' he could into his broken string of exclamations.

"Shut up," I snapped. I pulled my finger out. The toy was left inside.

It was entirely engulfed. "Get it out!" America cried. "Crap, it's gonna get stuck in there!"

"Oh, don't be an idiot. It won't get stuck." I slid my finger back in, hooking it as I prodded for the base. I felt it, but I couldn't quite grasp it. I wriggled more but it wasn't working like I thought it would. "… oh shit. I think it's stuck."

"I told you, duh!"

"Oh, shut up. I'll get it out." If I wanted to have any fun in there myself, I better …

With my index finger still inserted, I slide my thumb in. He was painfully stretched as I placed it across from my finger so that I could grasp the base of the toy. He moaned again as his entrance was pushed past its limit. With two fingers and the object inside, he was stretched unnaturally far. I pulled the toy out slowly, noticing that there was a little blood on it.

Heh. Virgin.

America heaved a huge sigh of relief when the toy was out of him. His muscles, which had been held steadily stiffened during the whole ordeal, slacked. But they tensed again immediately as I crammed the toy back in.

"Aw, fuck!"

I started pumping the toy in and out. I did it roughly, frenzied again. It made these noises that were probably disgusting, like a squelch squelch, but in the heat of the moment I found them arousing. My pace was fast and only sped up more when I heard him curse. Oh, how I hated that language from him.

As I worked the toy, I searched for his prostate. I watched his face closely and listened to his voice for any signs of pleasure. But his expression was tight and crinkled with pain as he gritted his teeth, and his voice was only pained grunts.

I kept aiming for slightly different spots as I thrust the toy in and out. It had to be somewhere. I wanted to make him hard.

But no matter how hard or where I thrust the toy, he remained flaccid. I just didn't understand it.

His loss though. Because even if he wasn't aroused by this, I certainly was. My pants felt uncomfortably tight with such a painfully hard erection. This sight was just too exciting. America, naked, taking that slightly phallic toy I made myself, his quivering entrance stretched to its max, being penetrated hard and fast by my efforts … shit. I'm one sick fuck.

The fact that it was the toy soldier I personally made with my own hands was especially exciting. It reminded me so much of how he was when he was little. Not that I'm a paedophile, but I loved that innocence. Back when he belonged to me. That feeling of nostalgia … so thrilling.

"Augh …" America groaned. "Please stop, God …"

I was still pumping the toy in and out. "Eh? Stop? But the view down here is so lovely …"

"Urrghh … please. It hurts so friggin' bad."

"Hmmm." I thought hard about this. "I will if you do something for me."


Still thrusting. "Say my say name like you used to."


I shoved especially hard when he said that. "What was that?"

"UHH!" he exclaimed with a grimace. "Okay, fine! Engwand!"

Oooh. Brilliant. I liked that. A lot. I was reminded again how hard I was, scraping myself on my zipper.

"Say more …"

"N-noooo …" he moaned, but was interrupted by another painful insertion. His face was contorted painfully, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Fine! Engwand, pwease take the toy out! Pwease Engwand!"

I stopped. I pulled the toy completely out and then tossed it aside. But not for him. I had to quit - it wasn't optional. I had almost come in my pants at that moment. It was just too exciting.

After a few seconds I regained my composure. I couldn't believe I'd nearly orgasmed without any actual stimulation. Luckily I was able to stop it, or else I wouldn't have been able to continue with my … well, what was this, really? I suppose it was under the guise of punishment. A reclaiming of the land, the body, that was once mine. Yes, that sounded good. Much better than the fact that I was just insanely aroused by this and wanted release, yes?

It was a bloody close call, certainly too close to ignore. The sight of America being penetrated had made all the blood rush to my erection, which was swollen, firm, and begging to be taken out of my pants. I couldn't resist any longer and finally gave in. There was a rustling of clothes and an unzip, I kicked my boots off, then finally the cold air hit me as I tossed my trousers aside.

My hand instinctively reached for myself and started to stroke. It was so flushed full with blood, so sensitive, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I'd stood up, but I had to squat and let some of my weight rest on America. My hand pressed against the top of his head as I leaned for leverage.

Oh, the look on his face. It was absolute disgust. He'd never seen me naked before. He stared, mouth agape, with furrowed eyes, unable to look away. For a moment I entertained the thought that he was mesmerised with lust. Then I looked down to see that he was still flaccid. Not even a twitch, not even "chubbing" or whatever American slang he used to describe a partial erection. Nothing.

I shuddered harshly as I felt myself starting to come again. I had to stop, holding my cock tightly enough to be painful, screaming internally no don't no don't as I didn't want to ruin everything because I couldn't control myself. The fact that America's head, meaning his mouth, was so close did not make it easier. I'd been lost in fantasises of both past with the toy soldier penetrating his arsehole, and future, where I planned to do oh so much more.

There were awkward seconds where I waited to calm myself down. They were awkward for me, certainly, but I'm positive they were even more awkward for America, who still wore that stupid bloody look of pure repulsion on his face.

"What's wrong, America?" I panted, curling my fingers into his hair.

It took him a moment to respond. " … I really didn't wanna see your junk. Or you jerking it, like, inches from my face."

"I hate …" My breath was still heavy. "… when you … talk like that."

His lip was curled up in disgust. "Talk like what?"

I'd found my balance. I didn't need to lean on him anymore. I let my hand trace down from his hair to his mouth. Where his lip was upturned in that expression of revulsion. I tried to smooth it down with my finger, trying to make him look less disgusted by my actions.

He pulled his face away to the side. "What are you doing?"

My hand followed. When I couldn't smooth away the lip curl, I slid my finger between his lips instead. His whole body stiffened, especially his arms which once again started to tug his restraints before stopping. I saw a harsh glare from his eyes as he made a quick, angry, "mmmph!" noise.

"Don't fucking bite me or I'll rip your flag into shreds," I threatened.

I had two fingers in soon, letting them roam around his mouth. I felt over his tongue, which was lashing wildly in protest, trying to push my fingers out. Heh. If only he knew how counterproductive that was, as the erotic rippling of a wet muscle like that was actually quite a turn on. I felt over his teeth - so fucking perfect that it was almost annoying. I know how much he and his country like to fun of the British 'bad teeth' stereotype. Bollocks, why did he have to have such beautiful, white, perfectly aligned teeth? Then again, there was a lot about him that was perfect. Well, physically. His mind though needed a lot of work.

His lips were twisted into a grimace around my fingers. Then I remembered it was the same hand I'd just been stroking myself with. I had to chuckle as I realised he was tasting me. There was sweat and precum on there, I was sure of it. No wonder his expression looked so disgusted.

I pulled my fingers out, covered in his saliva. I heard him give a quick suck and then spit to the ground.

"Ugh, that was fuckin' gross!"

"Don't talk like that!" I exclaimed as I roughly grabbed him by the chin again. I pulled him as I did, so that he was sitting up against the chest. He groaned, though it took me a minute to realise it was because his weight had rested on his sore arse. "I don't want to hear you curse!"

"Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!" he said with a sardonic smirk. "How do you like that, you fuckin' fuck … uh … fucky fuckface?"

Still gripping him by the chin, I slammed the back of his head into the chest. There was a loud thump, then he was dazed for a moment. I seized the opportunity to force his mouth back open. I cupped myself, bringing my length to his face.

His eyelids hung lazily halfway, but then sprung open at the sight of my cock in his face. He realised immediately my intent. "Oh, no! No way, England, you are not putting your nasty dick in my mouth!"

"Just lick it."

"No way in hell, man!"

I pulled his chin closer as I pushed my hips forward. The tip of my cock brushed against his lips, but he did not open them. I pushed more, moving it around a little, smearing it against his lips, but he kept them clamped firmly shut.

"All I ask is for you to lick it," I said.

He looked up with confused eyes. I could tell he wanted to ask why, why I didn't want him to suck me off. But he knew that if he opened his mouth to answer, I would push inside.

"1765. The year I passed the Stamp Act. You, in turn, firmly rejected it. Called it intolerable."

His expression looked even more baffled as I spoke. He wanted so badly to say something, I could see it in his eyes, but he dared not part those lips.

"You rejected something so small and trivial as a stamp solely because of me. Can you imagine how I felt? Even my stamps were snubbed, even they were 'tarnished' by me … you hated me that much."

"Nnnmpt!" he said angrily, like he was disagreeing with my interpretation of our history.

"So now that I have you so vulnerable, I would like a little revenge." I smirked down at him. "Pretend that's a stamp. Give it a lick, would you, love?"

"Nnnnnn!" he protested. I think he meant to say 'no' but it was difficult to tell, what with his mouth firmly closed and my cock pressed against it.

"I know stamps taste bitter. But you lick them anyway, because the job must be done. Do the same for me, hmm?"

He glared harshly, sideways at the floor. He wouldn't look at me. Again I pressed into his lips, trying to edge the tip between his lips, but they were tightened firmly.

I meant what I said about the job needing to be done. Because, bollocks, was I hard. One could only be so aroused with so little stimulation for a certain amount of time. I needed movement, action, friction, something. God, my erection was painfully hard at that point. Twice already I'd almost spontaneously come and I'd better be careful or another third scare would be imminent.

So with my other hand, I took my fingers and my thumb, and clamped down on his nose. I held it tight, squeezing it painfully.

I saw his chest move erratically as his lungs spasmed. With his mouth closed and his nose shut off, he couldn't breathe. He tried to wrench away, but I moved with him. Drained of oxygen, I was actually stronger than him. He was getting weak, dizzy, I could see reflected in his face.

Then he finally gave in. His mouth opened in a sudden burst of an inhale. Then he panted heavily, trying to recover the lost air. There was my opportunity.

I pushed the tip of my member in. But that's all. I stopped there, just the very tip. I meant what I said.

"Lick it."

"Or?" he asked, his sounding full.

"I'll cut your flag with the bayonet."

"Fuckin' bas-durd," he said, his words slurred by my cock.

"No … you know what I'll do?" I started as the idea came to mind. Oh, it was brilliant. "No, I changed my mind. I'll come on your flag."

"Whaaaaa!" he shrieked. The tone of his voice cracked, like his voice was hitching.

"That's right. Do what I say or I'll wank myself right over your flag. No, with the flag. I'll rub my dick with it and come all over it. I'll stain the star-spangled banner with my seed. It'll be the red, white, and blue with some extra white when I'll done with it. I'll turn the stars and stripes into my own personal wank rag." I smiled wickedly down at him. "What do you say?"

With each word I could see the fury rising inside him. I was really striking a nerve for the American. His patriotism bruised, he hesitated whilst he wrestled with the rage as the decision hung over his head.

As did my pressing cock.

"Well?" I urged.

He heaved a big sigh. That tosser made a big show of acting like I was monster, like this was the hardest thing he ever had to do. The expression on his face said it all. But then I saw his tongue poke out. He stuck it out, holding it rigidly and awkwardly as he squeezed his eyes shut. Then, daintily and hesitantly, he flicked it over the tip of my cock.

Oh God.

That sensation was so divine I nearly came again. I bit my lip, using the pain to chase away the approaching orgasm. "D-do it again," I said, trembling.

Another lick. It was as unsure as the first, but that didn't matter. It was still a wet, warm sensation over the most sensitive part of me, already engorged with extreme arousal.

He grunted as I saw him roll around saliva in his mouth. Then he spit to the floor again. He'd gotten the precum that had leaked out, which aroused me further.

"That's not enough," I said.

Another heavy sigh. With a resigned look of defeat, he let his mouth hang open, inviting me inside. He anticipated that I wanted a full blowjob.

How daft! I had a plan, you see. It's not to say that I wouldn't have loved to ravish his mouth with my cock. I'm sure it would have felt simply smashing to pump myself in and out of his throat, making him choke on my length, his throat muscles spasming and tightening around me. I'm sure it would because I'd fantasised about it. But I had a more clever idea. One that pertained to our particular situation. Or at least, our situation back in the 1700's.

I had to lean even closer to him to get the angle right. My cock brushed past his nose, eliciting a tiny noise of confusion from him. He didn't know what I was doing. But his mouth still hung open, so I cupped my testicles and pushed them inside.

He choked with shock. I knew he expected to take my dick instead. But I knew what I was doing. I started moving my hips. I dipped my balls in and out of his gaping mouth. He looked up at me, his eyes asking what the hell I was doing. Such pure confusion on his face.

"You've never heard of teabagging, America?"

His confused eyes sharply furrowed. He understood then.

"You tossed my tea, you tosser," I said. "Right in the bloody ocean. Consider this payback for all that lovely tea you wasted throwing a fit."

I had started to feel the sting of blue balls earlier, so the rhythmic movement in and out of his mouth felt soothing. Teabagging was something I'd never done before, so it was oddly appropriate that America should be the first for me to try it on. That git deserved it. I bobbed myself in his mouth, trying to roll over his tongue. But he did not reciprocate in the least. He simply held his mouth open for me to do everything. Lazy arse.

The sensation was unlike any I'd ever felt before. So unique and arousing. I leaned my weight on America as my legs felt wobbly. I shuddered in pleasure. The teabagging was supposed to be a symbolic gesture, punishment for the tea party, but I was lost in the carnal pleasure of it. More precum leaked from my pulsing member, rubbing against America's face. Two tiny squirts of pure ecstasy. One shot in America's eye and he shrieked. I pulled out.

"EEEWWW! God, you got jizz in my eye! It's even on my glasses! Grooooooooosssss!"

That pulled me out of my fantasy and back to reality.

"Oh, shut up."

"Ohhhhhh," he groaned. "That is so sick, dude." He squeezed the one eye shut, a tear gathering at the corner of it.

His childish behaviour was ruining my fantasy. Or was it? I did like him innocent, after all. I couldn't make up my mind …

I looked him over, drinking in the sight. America, still bound and restrained by his arms, chest wet and glistening with tea and sweat, hair dishevelled by my wandering hand, half his glasses splattered white with my spunk, his arsehole exposed and wet with tea and drops of blood, and his dick … damn. Still soft and drooping.

He flinched when my finger brushed against his lips again. I reached in and picked out a pube that had become entangled in his perfect teeth.

"Still not horny, America?" I asked.

"Fuck no!"

"Hmmm." I was smirking again. "I guess I haven't really done anything you've enjoyed. I've been too busy pleasing myself, I suppose."

"Why won't you just come and get it over with!"

"I almost did. Three times. But what would be the fun of cutting this time together short? After all … I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

"Eh?" He looked confused. "What's that?"

I flashed a devious grin. "I think you know, America."

There was a long hesitation before he replied. It was like he was actually contemplating what I could have meant. Like he couldn't figure it out. But then his face changed as it slowly dawned on him. There it was again, that look of repulsion.

"Are you really gonna do that," he said rather than asked.

"Come now. All this has been leading up to it. You can't tell me you didn't expect it."

"I … I didn't."

Fucking idiot. How naïve can one be?

"I thought you'd draw the line somewhere," he said, refusing to meet my gaze.

Oi. That actually stung. I mean, it's not as if I don't have morals. There was a line. I just couldn't think of one. But it certainly did exist! After all, it wasn't like this was rape. He wanted this, I was sure of it. Because he could refuse if he really wanted to. He could rip that flag. I couldn't be wrong. There's no way. What's that saying? You can't rape the willing?

Then I remembered he was still flaccid as hell.

That couldn't be right. I was so sure he wanted it. Because I had a legitimate reason for doing this. I was reminding him of how he used to be mine. I wanted to reclaim that land and body that used to belong completely to me. It used to be in my hands metaphorically, and now it was in my hands physically. He pushed me away in the past, rejecting that setup we had. But he didn't push me away this time. Even though his choice was between doing so and tarnishing his cherished national symbol.

He didn't want me before, years ago, and I still firmly hold that that was a mistake. That whole bloody war was a mistake. We could have worked things out, talked out our problems. It's called diplomacy! He was just stubbornly wrong. He wanted me then and just didn't know it … and the same was true now.

This is what I believed.

I could show him how wrong he was. I could show him that it's a good thing to be with me. It doesn't matter if it's sharing trade agreements or bodily fluids. Working jointly would have been the best option. I'd prove it to him.

I lowered myself down. I let my hands run over his skin as I settled over his lap. He shuddered, but I don't think it was from pleasure. I inhaled deeply; the tea leaves were still the strongest odour in the room, thank God, as they masked the body odor and spunk smells.

I placed my hands on either side of his hips. There I settled into a straddling position over top of him. His eyes were glued to me, watching my every move intensely. The only sound was both of our breathing: erratic, unmatched rhythms.

My weight shifted to just one arm and I used the other to grip myself. My hand wrapped around the base of my cock as I leaned forward to put it in.

"Wait," said America.

I paused. My eyes flicked upward to his.

"D-don't do this."

Against the intense inclination of my cock, aching for stimulation and release, I remained frozen. "America … do you remember … back during the Revolution …"

"Oh, God, not this again …"

"Shut up, git, you were the one who brought it up earlier. And I ask about the truth, not that bullshit you spouted to Lithuania."

"What about it?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Not all of you wanted to leave me. There was a state that remained loyal." My lips twisted in a sadistic grin. "Do you remember which one I'm talking about?"

I could tell from the way his breathing picked up that he did. He panted, his eyes widening, as his memories flooded back.

"Florida," I answered for him.

"Nooooo," he whined. "Y-y-you are remembering it wrong. It-it was much more complicated than that! There, there were different political parties, and like, some were loyal and some supported s-separation, and it was scattered, like, like -"

"Shhhh," I hushed. "I'm fairly certain Florida was the only one truly loyal to me. But if you doubt, how about we test that theory?"

"Florida wants nothing to do with you!"

I glanced to Florida. Still flaccid. I wondered if he was telling the truth. Then I wiped that wretched thought from my head, because it was loyal back then. It could be loyal again now … right?

America couldn't be right about Florida. I'd heard his rubbish excuse of American history he'd said to Lithuania. If he got all that wrong, he certainly got Florida's loyalty wrong as well.


Well, I was going to find out. With one quick motion, I pushed myself inside. There was no preparation, no slowing to accommodate, nothing. I simply impaled him, with one swift thrust.

"Ah-AAAH!" he cried out. "F-fuck!"

His body responded as clearly as his mouth. Every muscle stiffened beneath me, clenching tightly in a sharp, pained inhale. His hands curled into balls, trying to grip at the floor but sliding instead. The muscles at his entrance tightened instinctively. That sodding idiot. Doing that only made it more painful for him, and more pleasurable for me …

Because damn was it tight. The way he resisted, internal muscles clenching and quivering, put an incredible amount of pressure on my cock. I actually gasped out loud. It was a sharp, embarrassing, almost choke-like sound. It took a moment for me to adjust, for my senses to return, after being sent reeling in pleasure. I didn't expect it to be so tight. I suppose he really was a virgin.

"Ohhhh, fuuuuuck …" America whined.

I pulled back, then slammed into him. "I told you not to talk like that!"

"UH-HHH!" he grunted, gritting his teeth.

He still hadn't relaxed. His arsehole was still tightly puckered, holding tight in pain, clamping down on my member. Dear God, the pressure! It was so tight, so hot that I paused to relish that glorious feeling. I let myself drink it in - the heat enveloping me, the trembling flesh engulfing, the intense pleasure that ran up my cock through my spine. Unnff.

Then I started a rhythm. A rapid, rough one. I pumped myself in and out of him, penetrating him deep.

I think I'd scared America from using actual English words anymore. He settled for noises. Gross, sloppy noises. Grunts and groans that reminded me of an animal. He'd go uh uh uh uh uh! timed with my thrusts, each one sounding pained. His eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to look at me.

I grunted some, too. It was involuntarily, as I was lost in the heat of moment. But mostly the noise that came from me was heavy breathing. I gave short, shallow breaths, also timed with each frenzied pump into him. It drowned out the nasty squelching sounds we made from penetration.

Then I heard America whimper. He squirmed underneath me, and I wondered exactly what he was feeling. Pain, pleasure, a mix of the two? I couldn't fathom the sensation. Faces often look similar for both possibilities. Part of me wanted to ask, but I couldn't articulate words at the time. I was too lost in pleasure, my mind far away.

As I thrust, his limp cock rocked back and forth with the motion. Fucking bollocks! Why wasn't he hard yet? It wasn't fair! I was doing everything right! What the bloody hell else was there? !

"Wh-where …" I panted, not slowing my rapid, forceful pace. "… i-is your …" More heavy breaths. "…pr-prostate?"

"Nnnnggghhh …" America moaned in response.

"Answer me! … Sh-show me!"

I think America was trying to imagine he was somewhere else. His expression looked lost, like he was mentally far away.

"Look at me!" I barked as I gave an especially hard thrust, trying to force his attention back to me. He winced and gasped loudly. "Tell me where!"

I wanted to get him hard so badly. I wanted to see his body respond to me. I wanted to see him aching for my touch. I wanted to see physical, tangible proof that he wanted me. I wanted to see Florida to be loyal to me again. I wanted to see any of him be loyal to me again. I wanted all this.

Not to mention I was just sure his erection would be a simply smashing sight.

I tried desperately to find his prostate. I probed around, hitting his inner walls from all sorts of angles. I listened to his voice for any giving gasps or cries of pleasure, watching his face for a contortion of bliss, tuned into his body for any reciprocation … but no. There was no change. He just continued to bear my efforts, gritting his teeth and holding his muscles tight, just waiting for me to finish.

Oh, fuck it all.

I grew tired of searching for his sweet spot. Wherever it was, he wasn't allowing himself to enjoy it, because I certainly hit it at some point. So I took a more direct approach. I sat up some for balance, then used a free hand to grasp his flaccid cock.

"Should've … done this from … the beginning," I said, still breathing erratically.

His own breathing quickened too. I heard it, loud and uneven. His eyes had finally opened when I grabbed him like that. He watched me intently as I started touching him there. I began stroking him, my hand slicked with sweat.

I saw him chew on his bottom lip. I think he was fighting back making more strange sounds, but I heard a muffled whimper from him anyway. No, it was more like a mewl. Desperate and raw.

Ah, there it was. I could see it. He was hardening in my hand.

I delighted in this. I didn't care if this was an involuntary reaction to stimulation, I'd accomplished my goal. My hand wanked harder in response. I grinned wickedly at the sight. America was getting hard in my hand. And after a few moments, it was very hard. He was as erect as me - his organ flushed and swollen, brimming for more stimulation in between my fingers. What a positively delicious sight.

I'd pulled out so that I could better concentrate on working him. My full attention was on his erect cock. I stroked furiously, gripping tight to increase the pressure. He was squirming again and making all kinds of noises. Frantic whimpers and groans.

"Florida's not loyal, eh?" I taunted.

His response was not what I expected. Because he suddenly came. I felt the hot liquid hit my hand as he cried out in a moan, "Nnn, AAHH!" he yelped. His muscles rolled as the wave crashed through his body. I watched the ripple effect in that tightly toned figure of his. My hand continued pumping, making sure to get out every splurt of come. It came out so strong and suddenly at first, then ebbed after a few seconds, squirting only a little bit sporadically. Then it was over, as I could feel all his muscles slack as he drooped. There was another low moan.

What a show. I couldn't have imagined a more delicious sight. I'd fantasised what it might be like to witness America orgasm, and finally I'd seen it. It did not fall short of my expectations.

He rested, still panting, with his eyelids hung shut. Oh, no. That wouldn't do. He needed to wake up.

"You got your loyalty all over my hand," I said to him. He watched as I held up my hand. His hot white spunk dripped down it.

He stared intently at it. "That's not loyalty. That's just jizz."


I'd like to think it was a physical manifestation of loyalty. And if it wasn't that, then it least it made a decent lube, as I started to stroke myself again. Goddamn he'd come a lot. It was plenty to make myself slick, easily allowing myself to slide my hand up and down my length. I couldn't help myself. My cock had been desperately neglected after I'd pulled out and given my full attention to America.

He watched me wank myself far more intently than I imagined he would. At first I delighted in this. I wondered if I'd unleashed something inside him, something just as horny and carnal as me. Then the corners of my twisted grin started to fall as I became more confused. He looked absolutely sickened as he stared. Stared right at my cock.

"What … what is it?" I panted as I stroked.

"Did you even look …" he murmured, finally looking away.

"Look … at … what …"

I glanced down to see my cock slicked with blood. I was surprised - though not surprised enough to stop stroking.

I looked down at America. A trickle of blood dribbled down from his entrance.

My eyes darted away, but then quickly back. I was drunk with lust at the time and even something like that wasn't going to throw me. I leaned in closer to him. With my free hand, I slowly traced up the line of blood with one finger. I wiped it, smearing it away, as I felt America tremble at the skin to skin sensation. Despite how slowly I did this, the furious pumping of my member with my other hand did not slow.

"Were you …" I started, breathing erratically, "… a virgin, America?"

He sunk into the wooden chest, pressing himself hard against it like he was trying to get away from me. "Um. That part of me is - was."

I heaved a breathy sigh. I tried to play it off as part of my strained breathing, but it came off sounding more dreamy than I meant. I let myself lean even closer, to the point that I was on top of him again. So close that I buried my face in his chest. Ah, the crisp scent of the tea. It was still there.

The tip of my dick pressed into his abdomen as I continued to stroke. My eyes closed and I was lost in fantasy again.

Something about being the first one to penetrate America was positively thrilling. It turned me on even more, as if I needed it. The land that was once mine was mine once more. I'd claimed it like I had a couple centuries ago. Though instead of putting my flag in it, I put my in cock.

I could feel America's chest going up and down as I let my head rest against it. Precum dribbled onto his stomach as I continued to move my hand.

Suddenly his voice interrupted my frenzied gasps. "England …" he started, sounding sombre for once.

"Ehh?" was all I could manage to get out.

"Did … did you do all this just because I lied …" His voice was shaky, clearly distorted by my weight and movements on top of him. "… to Lithuania? About my history?"

I wanted to tell him to shut up. I didn't want to get into such a deep conversation. Not whilst feverishly stroking my erect cock, poking his warm skin, so close to orgasm.

"Fffff …." I tried to start speaking, but I couldn't get any more out. My voice choked.

"Because if so …"

Oh, his talking was so distracting.

"… I just want …"

Pant pant pant pant pant. God, I was so close to coming.

"… you to know …"

His voice almost drowned out that rapid little slap slap slap noise of skin I made as I furiously wanked.

"… that I sure as fuck don't take it back."

My hand broke its rhythm, like a train derailing. "Wh - whaaa? !" I choked.

"You heard me!"

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you? !"

Could you believe I actually thought something profound would come out of his mouth! He'd been so serious, so subdued, like he meant something actually meaningful … then … bollocks, what an insufferable brat!

"I'm proud of my history!" he beamed. "Fuck yeah, America!"

"You … you're using that profanity just to …" I couldn't finish my sentence. It was too hard to breathe.

"Piss you off? Hells yeah I am." For the first time in quite a while, I saw a wicked grin on his face. "It doesn't matter what you do to me, England. No matter what intolerable things - acts - you force on me, I'll still stand for my freedom. I'll still believe in the American ways and justice and liberty and all that jazz for all."

I nipped his chest. I sunk my teeth in, trying to punish him for his words. "Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear this whilst … whilst …"

"While you're about to come on my chest? Well, I don't care. You got to talk a lot during this, well now it's my turn."

"Sh … shut up … I-I'm too close … for this …"

"No! I want you to know this stuff!" he barked.

"You're gonna ruin it …" My arm trembled, getting sore from stroking for so long. "… w-with your stupid mouth …"

"I could have ripped this flag and pushed you off of me and kicked your limey ass like I did back in 1886!"

"S … seventeen eight-"

"But I didn't!" he interrupted. "You know why? ! Because I believe in this flag and everything it stands for!"

If I was an American I would have been offended by how much I was still getting off during all this. Here he was, proudly ranting and raving about national pride, and I was busy pleasuring myself, dribbling precum as his words just kept coming.

"Unnnffff …" was all I could muster as a reply.

"I didn't give in to you back in the Revolution and I didn't give into you now!" he said proudly.

"But … but you came …" I managed to retort.

The look of confidence was wiped from his face as he suddenly flustered. "W-well … maybe that's a little accurate too … because of Florida … back then … maybe … SHUT UP!"

I hadn't said anything. Not English words, anyway. Only desperate pants and gasps.

"Maybe I belonged to you for a while but you could never keep me," said America.

"Maybe you belonged to me for a while -" I paused to grunt, because God did this feel good,"- today."

America inhaled sharply, like he was going to say something, but then he couldn't find the words. Heh. Even in the throes of such heated thrust, I could outwit him.

I enjoyed the momentarily silence. I slid my tongue along the long cut I had inflicted earlier when I cut off his shirt with the bayonet.

He grimaced and squirmed under me. "Ah- ahh!" he cried out. "That stings!" I gave another long, wet lick along the line. His face changed again. This time, he looked angry. "D-don't forget that I'm the one who WON!"

I smirked as I licked. "Don't forget everything else."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

I couldn't form words anymore. Because at that moment, I could feel myself starting to reach orgasm. My hand worked over myself so fast, so frenzied, that it looked like it was just spasming over my cock. I arched myself, pressing my body closer into his. My muscles locked as I groaned out loud an ungodly, desperate sound.

As if clueless, America yelled at me, "Answer me, England!" That sodding idiot.

So I suddenly stood up. I grabbed that face of his again, right by the chin. Ah, that puffy cheek look. I never grew tired of it.

His eyes bugged out as he realised what I was doing. I saw his brow that had been knitted in frustration turn upward in disgust. With my hand that had never slowed, I brought my cock to his face.

It was perfect timing. I started to come on his face. My hand stroked furiously as I came the hardest I had in a good long while. It came out in ribbons, splurt after splurt, it was such a heavy orgasm. Pure ecstasy flushing through my desperate, heated erection. I cried out, strangling his name, but it just came out as a frantic moan, "Am-ah-AHHHhhhhhhh ….!" His face contorted into a cringe, repulsed by my actions. But I didn't care. I just kept coming. I kept stroking, milking myself of every trickle. I wanted every drop I had in me on his face. I rode it out as long as I could, my nerves raw and screaming with intense pleasure, gushing ecstasy all over that dumb expression on his face.

Finally my orgasm slowed. The last dribble dripped down from the tip of my dick. I panted heavily, having to lean against him for balance. My knees felt weak. I suddenly wanted to lie down. Because emptying myself onto him was absolutely draining.

And though my eyelids hung halfway closed, still reeling in pleasure, I had to look down to drink that sight in. White cum splattered America's face, dripping down his cheeks, painted his glasses. My breath heaved as I watched it trickle down, the smell of myself wafting to my nose, my essences still trailing in a thin thread from his cheek to the tip of my cock.

God. What a brilliant sight.

I pulled back, snapping the thread, and collapsed against the heavy wooden chest. I panted, trying to catch my breath, my face flushed pink, trembling in the lingering pleasure of such an intense orgasm. My eyes were glazed and unfocused. I let them hang lazily halfway as I came off the high.


It was cut short.

His squeal of disgust snapped me back to reality.


I cringed. He was still swearing. Had I not taught him anything?

"You just busted a nut on my face! Ugh, SICK!"

Oh shit.

"I can hardly see! You got jizz all over my glasses!"

Oh bollocks.

"Why are you just laying there? Get this crap off of me!"

Bloody fucking hell.

"Are you listening to me? ! Duh, England! You don't just give someone a facial and ignore them, damn it!"

What the fuck did I just do?

Suddenly the lust was gone. All the frantic, perverse urges that had driven me to do all this had been emptied onto to his face. The pressure was relieved. I had been blinded by heated lust, thinking with my dick instead of my head. Now that I'd had release, it no longer clouded my mind. I could think clearly again. The moment of clarity made reality come crashing down on me. And shit, I'd fucked up big time.

Because what now? America had to be untied. At least at some point. He couldn't stay like that forever. He certainly was going to have some kind of revenge. And, I hate to say it, but he's stronger than me. He very well may kick my arse. I'd certainly hear it verbally - it'd be a never ending angry tirade. He'd keep bringing it up. I'd never hear the end of it.

So what was I supposed to do?

I didn't know. But I figured it'd be better to put off the confrontation until after he calmed down some. You know, after his bum stopped being sore. At least until the cum on his face was dried and peeled off.

I put on my trousers. My hands were trembling as I fumbled with the zipper and button.

"What are you doing?" I heard him ask. "Don't you leave me here like this!"

I slid my boots on, then pulled the laces tight. I didn't know how to respond to him. I needed time. I'd think of something … I'm a smart chap … I could do it …

I hurried out the door and down the hall. I suppose America heard my footsteps because he called out to me, "England, please! Come back, dude! Seriously! COME BACK!"

But there was no way in hell that was going to happen. I needed to clear my mind, take a long, cold shower, and shake this off. Try to reconcile and rationalise what I just did. Even just process it. It was too much at once; I couldn't handle facing him then. Not with my seed still dripping off his, anyway.

I raced down the hallway, nearly taking out some rubbish poster he had hanging in it as I hurriedly brushed past it. I rounded the corner and found myself in the room from earlier. I kept going, knowing I wasn't too far from the front door.

Then I skidded to a stop. Lithuania was there, sitting in a chair, drinking from a teacup.

I knew I couldn't get past him without him seeing me. It was best, I figured, to just try my best to act casual and bid goodbye.

"Oh, L-Lithuania," I started. "Almost didn't see you there, sorry."

"O-oh! M-M-Mr. England," he stammered. I noticed his teacup nervously clinking repeatedly against the saucer. "Y-you're in h-here now."

"Yeah …" I didn't like the way he looked. Something about him was off. Bollocks, he was even trembling for God's sake. "Er, are you all right? You look pale."

"I-I'm fine."

"Ah, okay. It's just that you look …" I trailed off. "Well, never mind. Listen, uh … you might find an interesting sight in the storage room …"

Lithuania wouldn't look at me. He slurped his tea loudly, awkwardly.

"I-I can't explain it," I continued. "But you're America's housekeeper and he may need a little … umm … assistance and cleaning up."

He was still shaking, hunching awkwardly and rigidly over his tea. "U-uh huh."

"I'll be taking my leave now, but I'd appreciate some …" I searched for the right word. "… discreteness."

"Heh heh, yeah," he replied nervously. "B-being discrete is really important. S-speaking of which, w-would you mind closing the door next time you have … p-private business with America? Sound carries quite well in this big house."

Oh shit.

I think I traumatised the bloke.

"Oh, God …" I began. "I … I … I …"

"It's okay," Lithuania interrupted. "I'll admit I'm a little shaken by what I heard. Repulsed, to be honest. I'm physically nauseated. But …"

"… but what?"

"It still beats living with Russia."