History of Love
Chapter 1
Neville Chamberlain sat in his plush, green leather chair, head in hands. His most recent meeting with Fuhrer Hitler at Bad Godesberg, concerning the fate of those luckless Czechs, who seemed to be nothing but trouble, had not been a sucess. Hitler was now demanding all of Czechoslovakia, not just his lusted Sudetenland, but also Bohemia and Moravia. Chamberlain ran a soft finger over his moustache, enjoying the comforting bristles in a time of much discomfort. It was then he became aware of the presence of the figure at his door. This late at night only the few maidservants roamed the corridors of 11 Downing Street, Chamberlain's residence. The proximity to the famed 10th house in this glorious street, watched over by armed guards every hour of every day, was severly daunting to this fearful old man. Yet this figure cast a round shadow across the green carpet of this rich, oak panelled room, startling Chamberlain.
'Ah... Winston,' sighed a relieved Chamberlain, 'I was rather worried there for a minute. I suppose you have come for nothing but to gloat?'
'Mr. Prime Minster-' began Churchill.
'Winston, you have came to mock me several times before, it's Mr. Coward or Neville to you, my most beloved nemisis.'
'Neville,' smiled Churchill, 'I must admit I am most seriously unshocked by the recent events in Germany, I suggest you do not meet the demands of that snake, Hitler.'
'Poppycock, you know as well as I do that he wants a war. We cannot afford that. Not only financially, but the human cost would be unsurpassable.'
Churchill frowned a frown which stirred Chamberlain, a pang of guilt coursed through him. He had been shouted at, threatened and blackmailed in attempts to thrwart his plan of Appeasement, not never had he felt to compelled to abandon his ambitious plan and declare war, all for the frown of this one man. Churchill raised one thick, blond eyebrow at his opponent's silence.
'Surely, you are not doubting yourself?' he breathed lightly to Chamberlain, leaning deeply across the dark oak desk on which dozens of documents and newpapers were littered. Chruchill's breath breezed across Chamberlain's face, stirring, once again, that feeling of the most deep hatred for his own heart. Chamberlain leaned across the desk, his face parallel to that of Churchill.
'Impossible.' He whispered, wrinkled lips savouring every harsh consonant. Churchill opened his mouth, half smiling, eyes closed, to retort. However, his lips were met by the salty ones of Chamberlain. Shocked, he did not resist the desperately probing tongue of his counterpart, but rather felt the soft bristles of his moustache brush roughly against his upper lip.
The clutching, blind hands of Chamberlain soon found the belt buckle of Churchill, who was weakly slumped against the oak desk, not resisting these scrambling hands. He toyed with the buttons of the crisply pressed shirt of the Prime Minister, each coming undone with ease. His shirt was soon also lying crumpled, intertangled with that of Chamberlain's, on the floor. Chamberlain's sprightly lips, moving much more expertly across the cavernous body of Churchill that he could have imagined. Each single kiss planted with more care than the last, danced across the chest of Churchill, leaving him desperately seeking satisfaction. A smiling Chamberlain sensed this and, with a rough yet gentle hand, turned his partner over the oak desk and slipped down the greying underwear slinging tightly to a bulging unit which dared Chamberlain to devour it. However, Chamberlain desired to satify himself first, caressing the buttcheeks of Churchill with the touch of a fairy. He wet his hand and lubricated his own throbbing member, then easing it gently into the delicious pink pucker of Churchill's welcoming anus. Churchill let out an aubible yelp, only to be hushed by Chamberlain. Eyes opening wider with each forcefull thrust, Churchill felt the burning pleasure of the occupant rattle him with every pounding movement. Chamberlain moaned quietly, approaching climax, he kissed along the back of Churchill's wrinkled neck, until finally filling him to the brim with his seed. Churchill felt the warmness creep up and fill him. But Chamberlain was not done, he then kissed a path down his lover from his navel to his torpid penis, stimulating a gasp from a sexually inebriated Churchill. His lips met the jolly, pink tip of this mighty beast, and slid their way down, consuming more upon each dive. Churchill's eyes lolled back into his skull, clenched closed so as not to yelp in pleasure. The tip of this great monster knocked the back of Chamberlain's throat, almost warranting a gag, yet he held it in, mind focussed on pelasing the beautiful naked creature he so wanted to be with, for all these years. Churchill then gasped loudly as he doused Chamberlain's throat with his never-ending cascade of semen. He swallowed gratefully, slumping onto the heavy fur rug that lay watching on the floor. He shot a glance at the portraits of previous Prime Ministers gazing enviously at him and his lover. He smiled mockingly and embraced a tired Churchill long and deep.