Warning: This is PURE CRACK. With strong sexual content. Cracky sexual content. Don't say you weren't warned! Because I just warned you.
Written in America's POV because it's funny.
X
"Englaaaaaaaand!" I said singsong as I knocked on the door. Okay, more like pounded, whatever. "Englaaaaaaaand! Dude, open the door!" By then I was punching it. "Come on, dude! It's me! Open up!"
I'd gotten up early to come see England and he wasn't even going to answer his door for me! What a jerk, am I right? I even showed up at the crack of dawn so I wouldn't be late. Like, literally the crack of dawn, by the way. The sun was rising as I beat on that door like a punching bag. But whatever. Time zones and all that. It makes sense, so don't question it! Gosh!
Somehow my knuckles got bruised during this. "Don't you know what day it is, England?" I asked to the door because England wasn't answering it. "It's Friday~, Friday~," I sung. "Gotta get down on Friday~!"
But apparently England didn't want to get down on Friday! And here I thought everybody was looking forward to the weekend, weekend. So I walked around the side of the house, looking for a window to break into. If you're thinking this is breaking and entering like a crime, don't be silly. Heroes don't break the law! Only windows. But it's okay because England is my friend. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. Shut up.
England's house had more than one window to climb inside. Some were high up though, and some looked a little small for my totally ripped and not fat self to fit through. I thought hard as I studied my choices. "Which window can I taaaaaaake~?"
Damn that Rebecca Black! Get out of my mind! You and your catchy song will never stop haunting me. I gotta quit spending so much time on the YouTube.
Before I could break one of the windows, I heard a noise. It sounded like England. But it was weird, because it sounded like England laughing. He doesn't laugh very often, so it was already weird because of that … but it was a weird sorta laugh too. Like a giggle. Yeah, England giggled. Like a schoolgirl.
Which was totes funny to me, because that is soooo not England. He almost never laughs. He's usually just yelling at me and calling me things like a 'git.' Joke's on him though, because I don't even know what a 'git' is. I don't 'git' the joke. Haha, 'get' it? Ha, I did it again! Damn I'm punny.
I rounded the corner to see what England was lolling about. Behind his house I saw a garden. Like one of them old school gardens. There weren't vegetables, but lots of flowers, and neatly trimmed hedges. There were benches and statues. Old looking ones with vines and moss and crap growing on them. I'm doing a pretty shitty job describing this, but think like Alice and Wonderland kinda scenery stuff.
There was a fountain too. It was a circle filled with water, with a statue in the middle of it. A statue of an almost naked kid with wings! I don't care if it's supposed to be 'art,' that's creepy, dude! It looked like cupid. Except instead of holding arrows it was squirting water out of its mouth.
England was sitting on the ledge of it. All by himself and forever alone. He was still in a robe and slippers, sipping from a little cup. What caught my attention was this silly smile on his face.
Yeah, England was just sitting there smiling! Not like a dickish smirk either. Like a dorky smile! What the heck! He was trying to push something away from him with the hand not holding the cup.
"Ha ha, that tickles!" I heard him say, still giggling.
Which made me do all kinds of LOL. I mean, seriously. You guys. England doesn't act like that! England's like kind of a dick! All stuffy and whatnot.
While England was busying himself giggling and pushing at the air like a crazy person, I took the opportunity to sneak over and jump into one of the hedges that was pretty close to him. I am so crafty! Because heroes are crafty! And I am so totally a hero, boys and girls.
So then I could see him pretty well but he couldn't see me. Hehe, I had a plan, you see. England was sitting right on the ledge of that fountain. All I'd have to do is spring out from the bush and go "BOO!" and England would be all like "WHOA" and totally fall right into the water behind him. Hilarious, am I right? It would be so funny!
England settled down. He took another sip from his cup and stared off into the sunrise. It was weird though, because his hand started stroking the air a few inches from his lap. Like there was an invisible kitty there or something.
"Ah, isn't it a beautiful morning?" said England.
Pffft. England's so crazy. Talking to himself.
"What a lovely sunrise. I could look at it all day."
Um, duh, England. Sunrises don't last all day!
"Hmm?" England looked down. "What's that?" Then I saw his cheeks turn a little pink, though he was still smiling. "This early? Come now. I haven't even finished my morning tea yet."
Who the heck was England talking to? ! I mean, damn! Who the heck just has random conversations with themselves? What a nut job! This was hilarious to me, by the way.
"Have a little patience, love," said England. He raised his cup to drink but then he suddenly dropped it and it shattered on the ground. It was weird though, because it fell really fast and sideways. Like someone had knocked it out of his hand. But of course, there was no one there so that's not possible! "Hey!" he said kinda angrily, though he was still smiling, that weirdo. "You cheeky bastard!"
At this point, I'm totally ROTFLing. For those of you who don't know what that means, it stands for rolling on the floor laughing. Though I was still hiding in the bush. So I guess it'd be RITBLing. Rolling in the bush laughing. Them leaves are prickly!
"I was still drinking that," said England, still giggling and blushing, which was so lulzy. Because seriously. This is England we're talking about. "You could have waited, poppet."
POPPET! Hahahaha! Dude! Oh, I almost gave myself away laughing so hard! Seriously, poppet? Pfffft! What the hell is that? Like a puppet? England talks to imaginary puppets? That's nutburgers! Wait … Mr. Snuffleupagus? C-could you be real? I thought only Big Bird could see you!
Suddenly the upper part of England's robe was opened. I don't know how it happened, because it had been tied, and England didn't untie it. The strap tying thingy just slid undone and suddenly the robe was opened really fast, with each side pulled back. It was so weird that I stopped laughing and got all quiet. England's chest was exposed.
"H-hey now!" said England, getting all red in the face. "I said not yet! Out in the garden - that's not proper!"
England tried to close his robe but his arms stopped halfway through. They were like pushing, midair, but even though it looked like he was straining they couldn't go all the way. You could still very much see his bare chest.
"Get out of the way!" said England. "This isn't funny anymore!"
Yes, it was. Seeing England talking to himself and even annoying himself was hilarious. I mean, seriously - even his own crazy imagination is irritating to this guy! If you manage to piss yourself off with your own silly fantasies, you got some issues, ya know?
"Bugger … !" England said, though really weirdly. Like he was gasping while he said it. His hands shot up to his neck, though they didn't touch. They hovered a bit above as his face changed. It's hard to describe. So I'll type it. It was like D: but all red and flustered. You can picture this, yes? Because I am a master wordsmith with the words and stuff, boys and girls. I'm like a poet or Shakespeare with my imagery, bitches. Please don't be jealous.
But then England's face kept changing. It softened, like his anger was just melting away, like chocolate melts in your mouth and not in your hand. That's M&M's by the way. Soon England didn't look either mad or happy. His mouth hung open completely, but his eyes were only open halfway. He looked weird. And by weird I mean turned on. Which is weird. I don't think this is Mr. Snuffleupagus anymore …
England was making little gasping noises as he started to pet the air above his neck. What a freak! He wasn't even touching himself! Somehow this wasn't funny anymore. A minute ago I was lolling so hard I nearly pissed myself, but now … I was just confused. Seriously, guys. I was at a loss!
"F … Flying Mint Bunny," England said between gasps. "Oh, God, your tongue …"
Yeeeeeah. My laughter had definitely slowed to an awkward silence by then. I didn't know what a 'Flying Mint Bunny' was. But apparently it's something that does stuff that feels really good on your neck. Like really good. Panting and moaning good. England was making some weird sounds.
A dark mark suddenly appeared on England's neck, near where his hands had been petting the air above. I squinted my eyes to see it better. It looked like a bruise. No wait. A hickey? Really? Really? No, no, no … that's just not possible! Nothing touched him! That must have been there before and I just didn't notice it. That's the only explanation. Yep. That's what happened. Logic, you guys! I'm using it.
England's hand, still not touching himself by the way, started to go lower. Soon it was over his chest. No wait, a bit above one of his nipples. His hand petted and rubbed at the air. Still while making that face. Then I saw his nipple harden until it looked like one of them eraser thingies on the end of a pencil. The other one was getting there too.
"Y-yeah …" he said, his voice all breathy like he couldn't get air for some reason. "S-suck it, Mint Bunny …"
You know what was really weird? That I also noticed little red scratches on his chest. They just appeared out of nowhere. Most of them where on either side of the first nipple that hardened. It was all pink and taut, standing out from his milky white, smooth chest -
Oh crap, getting off on a tangent there. My bad. Not very professional of me, your magnificent storyteller. Forgive me, boys and girls.
England leaned back. Arched, really. I hoped he'd fall into the water, because that'd be funny. But he didn't. He gripped the bottom of the fountain really hard. He moaned some more, like "ohhhhhhHHH …" Those caps at the end are because his voice went higher toward the end of his moan, hehe.
"I … I didn't know you girls were going to join in too …" said England with a scrunched up face.
Girls? England likes girls? Haha, when did that happen?
"Yeeeeah …" he said, gasping. "Keep fluttering your little wings like that … y-yeah. Oh, fuck … that feels great …"
So at this point I was like :|
"Shit! Oh, God … g-go lower, fairies …. yeeeeeeah …."
What the hell was England doing! There was no one there! He was still by himself, sitting on the fountain ledge, robe open, and getting all hot and bothered for no reason!
Christ, he was getting really red. His face, his chest .. God. More marks were appearing. There was another hickey forming, this time on his chest. More scratch marks. They timed up with gasps and little "Ah! Ah!" sounds England was making. I saw them being drawn with my own eyes. But by nothing.
I took off my glasses, rubbed them, and put them back on. They must be broke. Because I am not crazy. England is the crazy one. He's the one who's getting off to air, not me, okay?
Somehow when I was wiping my glasses, England's dick had been taken out of his boxers. Don't ask me how, you guys! I don't know! It all happened so fast! And England's hands were still holding onto the fountain's edge really tight, so I don't quite understand it. But it was out, and then somehow his boxers were pushed down lower, though they were still on, since he was still sitting.
England's one sick fuck. His penis was like rock hard. Yep, somehow he'd managed to turn himself on, without even touching himself once might I add. To the point that his cock was hard, erect, red, flushed …
Um, anyway. England was squeezing his face tight. I'd almost say in a painful way, but judging by the sounds he was making, that clearly wasn't the case.
"Ahhh!" he yelped. Then he arched back again. "Ohhh … God, yes … flutter your wings over my balls … uurrrrrgggh …"
Oh, did I mention his balls were out too? How could I leave out such important deets such as that? Forgive me, guys.
He shuddered, then leaned forward again. His breath was all funny, like it took a lot of effort. "Like that, yeah …" Another groan, "OhhhhhHHHhhh …" Then he said, still breathing all hard, "Now do it on my dick …"
I was really trying to figure out what was going on. The way I saw it, there were a few possibilities. One, England is crazy. Mentally insane (in the membrane.) Belonging in a straightjacket in the loony bin, rocking back and forth, drooling on himself. This was the most likely scenario. Or two, he has quite the imagination, and can use it to get off to the most fucked up crap he wants to. Though whoever would want to fantasize about minty rabbits or fairies rubbing their wings on your dick and balls is probably crazy anyway, which leads us back to option number one. Or there's possibility number four, which is that England knows I'm watching, and is trolling me for great amusement.
… naaaaaahhh.
Even if he wanted to bang me, there's still no way. I mean me bang him. In that order. Not that I'd thought about it, I mean. Crap, I lost my train of thought! Oh, no, there it is. That England wouldn't do this if he knew I was watching. England's too stuffy and gets embarrassed too easily. It just wasn't him.
That was all the time I had for thinking. Because England was being all noisy and wouldn't let me keep at it.
"Yes, yes!" he yelled out. "Oh God, yes!"
He was making desperate looking little thrusts into the air. Not like full-on humping, but like trying to get closer to something … trying to get just a little more of whatever he thought was touching him. He bucked his hips up, making all kinds of needy gasps. Little jerky, unrhythmic movements.
Precum dripped from his dick. I could see it pretty clearly. It was just like a little white dribble. Collecting on the tip.
I mean, not that I was staring or anything. Damn, why did I describe it like that? Forget that, you guys. Seriously.
Suddenly he stopped. He sat there for a moment, mouth wide open, panting. His eyes followed something that wasn't there. They moved from the side to right in front of him. And by right in front of him, I mean right in front of his dick.
Then his head rolled back, and he was moaning again. "Uhhhhoooohhh …" was the weird, low noise he made.
I scrunched up my face in confusion. This was a major dose of what-the-fuckery and I just wasn't prepared for it that day. Not on Friday~, Friday~. I mean, I know you're supposed to get down on that day of the week, but not like that! Surely Rebecca Black did not mean such crazy, perverted stuff! She just meant stuff like kicking in the front seat or sitting in the back seat or getting your bowl and having cereal! Not dribbling precum on yourself while you talk to your imaginary friends! It's a big difference, boys and girls.
England moved his hand a little less than a foot front his dick. It was curved like it was pressed against something. Though I had no idea what, because I'm not a perverted freak like him. He curled his fingers into the air, like he was ruffling up something.
Oh shit, it was like an invisible blowjob.
Took me a minute to realize. Not because I'm slow or something! Of course not. You guys believe me.
"Ufff," England gasped. He was still rubbing and curling his fingers in the air. "You're like the perfect - ah, AH! - s-size for this, being a leprechaun and such …"
LEPRECHAUN! WHAT! Okay, it was back to being funny again. "Pfffft!" I actually said out loud, though England didn't hear me since he was busy imagining he was being sucked off by a leprechaun! I just couldn't get over it. Too funny, dude. Too funny. So many jokes, God! Where to begin! After you nut, do you get his pot of gold? Or was England just after his Lucky Charms? Did that leprechaun think England was magically delicious? How's that jingle go … hearts, stars, and horseshoes! Clovers and blue moons! Pots of gold and rainbows, and the red balloons! Hmm. Change one of those words to like, I dunno, jizz or something.
Okay, so I got a little lazy with the leprechaun jokes. So what! It's funny in its own right. I don't gotta add to it, alright? Jeez. What the fuck do red balloons have to do with leprechauns anyway?
Shit, now I want some Lucky Charms. Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal. Damn it! That song was stuck in my head like crazy!
Speaking of crazy, back to England. He was still grasping at the air and panting. His breathing was really crazy. Imagine the shortest, fastest, shallowest breaths you can. Really. Do it. Right now, picture it. You need to really imagine this to get the full effect.
England was also back to doing that jerky hip movement. The little needy thrusts to get more. It was so uncoordinated that it just looked like his hips were spasming. A seizure just below the waist. "Ahh, ahhh!" he called out, his voice all weird. His hand in front of him tightened, balling up almost into a fist.
Wait a minute. Where the heck did his precum go? It was there a minute ago. There was so much of it that it was actually starting to drip down in a little thread. But now it was just … gone. He never wiped it away and it wasn't on the ground. It just sorta … disappeared. Weird, right? I mean … where else could it have gone? It's not like there was actually someone there to suck it up.
"Waaaaaaiitttt …" said England, his voice all cracky. "H-hold on, stop. I don't want to come just yet. G-give me a minute." His hand stopped hovering in midair, and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hairy, hairy brow. "You all are too good at this," he said, chuckling.
If you guys think this was weird, it's nothing compared to the weirdness I was dealing with. While I was watching England doing all that panting and moaning, I felt this little twitch in my own dick. A quick pang of arousal. Like a jolt, I suppose. Not a full-on boner, of course. Just a little … something, I don't know! Stop judging me! You judges.
"FUCK!" England suddenly screamed. But not in a sexual sorta way. In a pissed off kinda way. He leaned forward and rubbed his ass. "Damn it! What the hell do you think you're doing with that hook!"
Yes, he said hook.
He was still rubbing his ass, looking pretty angry. "Bollocks, that hurt! Don't you ever try sticking that up there ever again!" He paused, looking sideways, as if someone was there and he was listening to them. "That doesn't matter!" he said after a moment. "Thank God they were still on, or it would have hurt even more!"
By 'they' I think he meant his boxers. Hmm, yes. I am a great detective.
"You know what?" said England. "Just, get out of here! I don't want to see you for a while!" There was another weird pause before he continued, "Fine, I forgive you! But I still want you gone for the rest of this! It's your punishment."
England pointed back toward the house. He kept his arm out and his eyes moved in that direction. Like he was watching someone move that way. But of course, there was no one there because England is a hallucinating freak.
Finally he sighed and dropped his arm. "Not that that's done with … Oh!" England smiled, bringing his hand near his face. "You're so sweet, Flying Mint Bunny. Haha! Stop! Your tongue is tickling my face, you silly goose!"
I still don't know what happened. But somehow, suddenly, England was on his back. It happened so fast. One second he was pretending some imaginary rabbit was nuzzling and licking his cheek, the next he was lying on his back along the ledge of the fountain. I guess he did it himself. Though it happened so fast. And he looked very surprised. And it looked forceful. And he yelped like he didn't expect it. Weird.
Whoa, whoa! How did his boxers get off? They were on just a minute ago! England didn't take them off. Well, actually, I guess he did. Because there was no one else around and boxers don't just take themselves off. I must have missed it. Maybe I wasn't paying close enough attention. ADD and all that. Makes sense. Yeah.
"God, warn me next time you're going to push me down like that, would you?" bitched England. "You saw Mint Bunny was distracting me. Be more gentle!"
Suddenly I felt another twitch run through my cock. My pants felt a little tighter. Oh, man. It was almost full-on boner time. Which didn't make sense. I wasn't a pervert like England! No way could a hero like me get off to … umm … whatever the hell I was watching.
England was still lying along the fountain ledge. He arched up, neck first, with a gasp. Like something was touching him there. He moaned into it. Then he moved his hands like he was pushing something off of him. "Hold your horses," he said. Then he chuckled. "No pun intended. I just … have to prepare myself for this."
What pun? England is not punny. I am punny!
England stuck two fingers in his mouth. Then he pulled them out, all covered in drool. I think you know where this is going. You do if you're a pervert, at least. Because he reached his hand down and stuck both fingers inside himself. And by 'himself' I mean his asshole.
Yeah, both at one time! Just jammed them things right up in there. I flinched just watching him! He stuck them all they way in until they were completely inside. Then held'em in there, knuckles touching his butt. He made a weird, long gasping noise, like a big gulp of air.
"Just … just give me a minute," England said with a weak looking smile, to NOBODY. Freakin' nut job. He started fingering himself. I squinted my eyes to see a little better. Um, not that I wanted to. I was just curious, is all! What, is that a crime? Don't think I'm a pervert or something! Y'all are the ones who are reading this fucked up story, boys and girls, so … yeah.
So there England was. Pushing two of his fingers in and out of his asshole. Grunting and gasping and going "Ah, ah, ah!" Then all of sudden, he was using three fingers! I was like whoa, because, ouch, dude. Three fingers in your b-hole is a tight fit. Plus all he had was a little bit of spit on his fingers and that stuff isn't the best of lube. It doesn't last very long.
Umm, not that I know from personal experience or anything. These are just things I've heard. You know, from like … the Internet and stuff. It's a good place to learn about sex!
As I still hid in the bush, I looked down to my own hand. I scrunched three fingers together like England had to fit them up his ass. Then I took a good, hard look at that … um … amount of girth. Damn! Three fingers is kinda thick! Go on and do right it now. Squish your index, middle, and ring fingers together and look how wide it is! You see? And England took it all with ease! All the way to the base part!
Oh, did I mention that part? How easy this was for England? It was like, so natural for him. Like he does this everyday.
Shit, maybe he does! Maybe he's some huge slut. A total manwhore who's taken so much dick that his asshole's all loose and gaping, so he can just easily jam any number of fingers in there whenever he wants.
… naaaaaahhh.
That's not possible. I'd totally know about it if that was true.
But back to England! He finally pulled his fingers out. He looked up as if someone was above him (of course there wasn't) and said with a shaky voice, "O-okay, I think I'm ready …"
Ready for what? There was no one there! I swear! No one but England alone at the fountain, me secretly spying from the bush, and God watching from above and rolling in his grave at how perverted this was!
I thought it was super weird how England's butt was suddenly like propped up at an angle. It didn't seem physically possible. With, you know, physics and all. Let me try to describe it. He was on his back, lying on the fountain edge, arms gripping the edges of the ledge, legs spread and bent at the knees, and - yeah, his butt was like pushed up! How the hell? He wasn't doing that himself! It didn't make sense!
Physics, why you betray me? ?
There had to be a scientific explanation. There just had to be! Science trumps all! It put a man on the moon and made Cheese Whiz! Really! You can just spray it out of the can like air freshener or shaving cream or something! It's awesome!
Maybe … maybe England was just really strong. And could lock his muscles to hold himself up like that. Yeah. Even though his muscles didn't look stiff at all like they were straining …
Crap, forget it! There's certainly a logical explanation. I just couldn't be bothered to figure it out. Not when stuff was still happening!
"Please go slowly …" England whispered up to the nothingness. Moments later, his entire body stiffened and arched back. His eyes squeezed shut, he gritted his teeth, and then after a gasp he made a noise. It was a low, painful moan that sounded like, "Uuuunnnnnngggg …!"
Watching this made me feel really weird. I was totally pitching a tent. That's slang for popping a boner, if you didn't know. So yeah, there I was, stuck with this huge boner in the bush! I didn't know what to do. It wasn't like I could just whip it out and beat off right there in the bush. Did I mention there were prickly leaves all around me? I didn't wanna be pricked in the prick.
Plus, I was totally confused and even a little annoyed that I got a hard-on in the first place. I mean, it's not like England's sexy or something. This too defied physics! Or at least some kind of science. What was wrong with the world that day? !
"B-be gentle …" England said, still looking so pained. It hurt just watching him and I didn't even know what the fuck was happening. He looked like he was listening to something speak, and then he said as if answering, "Y-yeah, some. You're really big. B … but I'm okay. Keep … keep going."
England threw back his head and let it rest on the fountain's ledge. His face was still all scrunched up like he was hurting. "R-really," he said, in between pants. "You got it all the way in … p-please … move."
Got what all the way in? Some invisible penis? Gaahh! Now he's got me imagining perverted things! Nooooo ….
So then physics, that dirty bastard, bitchslapped me across the face. Because you know what happened next? England's whole body started rocking back and forth. Like someone was pushing in and out of it. But there was no one there to do it! I assumed at first England was doing it, but he wasn't. His arms weren't moving. They were just holding onto the ledge, for like, leverage. That didn't make sense!
I watched England's body rock against that stone ledge. Wondering soooo hard how that was possible. I just stared, you guys. Lost in the … implausibility of it (only reason, of course.) I just didn't get why he moved back and forth like that, rubbing against the stone, scraping his ass …
… I also didn't get why I had somehow started rubbing my palm over my dick. I did it over my pants, so it's not perverted. It doesn't count that way, okay?
"G-go a little faster," said England. The painful look was gone. In fact, it looked like he was smirking. He was looking up (at, once again, NOTHING!) with this crazy, horny look in his eye. "I can take it."
The pace that England rocked picked up. It got faster and faster. And the faster it got, the louder England got too. At first it was just grunts and stuff. "Uh, uh, uh!" he'd said, each grunt a hard exhale. Then he was moaning like crazy. Like, "OhhhhhHHHHhhhh …" Then I learned that, apparently, England is a screamer! Who knew?
"OOOOOHHHHH, YES, YES!" he screamed. Like really loud. "FUCK YEEEEESSSSSS!"
More craziness. I started to stroke myself over my pants. Not just touching anymore, I was kinda spanking it, I admit it. But it was still over the pants, so it's okay!
"OH, GODDDDDDD!" he screamed.
I glanced up to God since England had said the name. 'Please don't watch this anymore, God,' I prayed. 'Because I know you judge people. You even wrote that in your chapter book. Amen.'
I didn't want God judging me for jerking it, you see.
"Fuck yes, RIGHT THERE!" yelled England. His back suddenly arched up, like really hard and fast. His face changed again, it was super weird. His mouth was gasping but the corners were turned upward a little so I guess it was technically a smile. It was kind of a dopey expression. The little bit of drool dribbling down didn't help.
"Y-yeeeeeaah," he hissed. "Keep … riii … ght … there …" Then his eyes rolled back. "AUUUUUGGGH!" he moaned really loud. "That feels so good!"
WHAT! WHAT! What feels so good? ! He wasn't even touching himself! What the hell is he getting off to? ! There was nothing there! Does anyone believe me? Gosh!
It didn't make sense. England's asshole was freakin' stretched like crazy. I saw it with my own two eyes, y'all. It wasn't like that before. When he first got his boxers off, it looked like a normal butthole (not that I'm an expert on the things, just bear with me, okay?). But now, it was like open and gaping. It was so loose I could see inside it. Pink and red fleshy tissue -
Oh God, shut up, me! You shouldn't be looking like that! Crap, now you all probably think I'm a pervert like him even though I'm not …
But really! How the hell did it end up like that? ! There had to be a logical explanation. There was certainly nothing really there fucking him in the ass. It must have been from his fingers. Y-yeah. That's it. Even though it looks wider than his fingers and they weren't in there anymore … huh …
But it's the only explanation so yeah!
"Hmmm?" England said suddenly. He looked so weird. So flushed and sweaty and still drooling a little bit. "Rub your horn while you do this? Heh …" He smirked. "If you want me to …" England started moving the hand by his head. He stroked at the air. His hand was kinda in that shape you use to beat off. Like thumb curved and forming an almost circle with the other fingers. And he moved it up and down nothing.
Wait a minute. Did he say horn? HORN? What the fresh hell? Whatever he was imagining was fucking him had a horn? ! Umm … what the hell has horns? A troll? A demon? A giraffe? No, wait. He said horn. Without the s. That didn't make sense! There's nothing with just one horn! Except …
EEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!
A unicorn? ! He has mentioned that delusion to me before, sooooo …
Ugh, God. I almost threw up. I was, like, physically ill. Sick, dude. Not cool. That's just disgusting.
Though not disgusting enough to stop rubbing myself over my pants for some reason. No, my hand was still having a good ol' time down there.
Because it wasn't real. Yeah. There's no such thing as unicorns. It's all in England's head. So it's not that gross … right?
"Ohhhhhhhh …." England groaned. He'd stopped rubbing the 'horn' and used both his hands to grip the edge of the fountain again. His face squeezed tight. "Nnnnngggh … I-I'm gonna …"
Ummm.
You guys know what a coming voice is? Like that weird way of sounding while talking when you finally orgasm? It's hard to describe, since different people's are different and all but …
I heard England's. He used that weird, crazy, slightly higher pitched, and very DESPERATE sounding voice when he cried out, "BRITANNIA ORGASMMMMMM!"
What a weird thing to say when you're coming, am I right?
But it was no lie. He jizzed all over himself. Mostly on his stomach. Holy schiznit was it a lot. It just kept coming and coming (lol, coming). It was a white, hot, sticky mess all over his belly and dick.
The best part was his face though. Coming faces are the best. Oh my God, it was hilarious. He thought no one was around so he didn't hold back. It was so derpy looking! Pretty funny considering he normally rarely even smiles, let alone does … that.
After his cock was milked dry from one crazy huge orgasm, his body fell limp. He let out a big, shaky sigh. But his body was still being rocked back and forth.
Huh? But all his muscles were slack … how was that possible? And … and his arms were just dangling at his sides. One of them was even hanging in the water! It didn't make sense! How was he still moving like that? !
I watched and pondered. Stroked myself and pondered. Then I looked up and realized that a big, colorful rainbow had spread across the sky. Like immediately after he finished coming on himself. It was beautiful!
But … it didn't rain. I thought rainbows could only form if it had been raining? Right? Ph … physics? Why you keep trolling me? I don't understand! None of this was possible! I don't get it!
Then, after a few more momentos, England stopped. He was completely still. The only thing moving was his chest, up and down really heavy, because he still hadn't caught his breath.
Then he smiled weakly up. "Heh," he said as if looking at someone. "That was incredible, huh?"
I think there was some more post-imaginary-sex pillow talk but I didn't hear it. I was too busy with a little matter in my own pants. Seeing England come like that, so hard and all, damn. I didn't think I'd actually come with my pants still on but I was wrong. I came really hard too. Just outta nowhere! Jizz in my pants. All over them too. I could feel my boxers full of that white hot man gravy, but I didn't care at the moment. Because, you know. Orgasms feel GREAT. It's hard to worry about the little things like stained pants when you're riding that incredible rush of ecstasy, am I right?
I shuddered when it was over. Then I looked up and noticed another rainbow, not too far behind the first one. That wasn't there before.
It was a double rainbow! Oh my God! That wasn't possible either! It hadn't rained, you guys! It hadn't raaaaiiiined! What does it mean? !
I couldn't believe it. Right after England came there was a rainbow. Then after I came there was another rainbow. Really big ones too. So bright, so vivid. It had to be a coincidence. There was nothing else to explain it! Some freak thing with crazy timing. I'm sure of it! So don't question it. I won't. I can't (my sanity depends on it!).
"Aww, I love you guys, too," said England. I looked back over the fountain. He was sitting up again, though carefully. Like his ass was sore or something. He started to retie his robe closed again. Then, petting the air like a lunatic he said, "You all are so sweet for wanting me to feel good."
Did … did I just hear a purring noise? No, that's impossible.
"Though next time let's do it in the bed like normally," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not too fond of this hard stone fountain."
I glanced around for a cat. That purring sound … where the hell was it coming from …
"And yes, I'm talking to you, Flying Mint Bunny." He gave the air a poke, smiling like a dork. "Cheeky thing."
No, I am NOT a believer! Nothing can change that! NOTHING, I TELL YOU! There's no way I was hearing a mint rabbit thing! That purring noise was either from some cat I just hadn't found yet, or my imagination!
Wait … my imagination? Like England's whack imagination? No. Dear God NO. I had to retain my precious sanity!
So I popped out of the bushes with my arms out. "BOO!" I yelled.
"WHOA!" England startled. He jumped and fell backward into the fountain. Like SPLASH! Just as according to plan.
I flashed a peace sign. "Victory for AMERICA!"
That was my plan the whole time. Yep. Forget all that middle stuff, boys and girls. The whole point of this story was that I pranked England and made him fall into the fountain. The rest of that stuff was unimportant filler. Wipe it from your memory. Because a lot of that stuff is physically impossible, and I saw it, and I'm not crazy. I don't believe in that crap. And even if I did, I wouldn't do what England did. That's just sick.
I mean, I know my alien friend Tony does anal probes, but that doesn't mean I go around all the time asking him to shove stuff up my ass. Ya know? You guys believe me … right?
Shit. I've said too much. Forget that last part too, okay?
(End!)