Chapter 1: The Arrival.

I'd been flying for hours now, or, what felt like hours. I'd left the blinding lights of New York behind for a weekend with my old friend, Latvia in the snowy terrain of Russia. Unfortunately, this meant that I would have to suffer the company of Latvia's house mate: Russia. I'd never liked Russia; since the moment my Father had warned me of his communist beliefs and unjust behaviour, I had hated him without having to meet him. But now there was no way around it; it had been too long since I had gone to see Latvia.

I quickly made my way down the cold metal stairs of the plane onto the solid, pig-ridden soil of Russia. The wind bit at my cheeks and pinched my nose, the snow lashing at my skin as it's hurled at the ground. Maybe I should of just stayed in New York until the Summer. I sigh, lugging my pink-spotted duffel bag into the Airport and in the process, chipping a nail. I already regretted coming out here.

Once I had tackled airport security, I quickly found my way to the driver which would take me to Latvia and -Sigh- Russia's mansion in the mountainous, snowy hills nearby Moscow. It was time to put my hatred to one side for the sake of my old friend.

Chapter 2: The Meeting.

After about an hour of driving, I had finally arrived at Latvia's place. I hadn't particularly enjoyed the company of my driver; he hadn't even bothered to pay me a compliment. Not once. I made a harsh humph sound before sliding out of the car with nothing but a flick of my hair in his direction. I shuffled up the stone path that lead to a tall oak door, my heels scraping across the surface. I winced; maybe it was time to buy a higher pair of heels which I could get around more easily in. I tapped on the door three times with the tips of my diamante fingernails and, soon enough, Latvia swings the door open with a soft swoosh: his arms wide open, a huge grin plastered from ear to ear. I smile a thin smile in return, although it probably would have looked more like a grimace to anyone else; anyone but Latvia. He knew me. I swept into the room, my arms wrapping lightly around his chest as I lean down from my high-heeled perch to kiss him softly on each of his cheeks. He returns the favour. My hands instinctively reach down to the hem of my tight silver mini skirt after the embrace, to wiggle it back down after bending over had forced it to ride up with luscious thighs. "Latvia! Oh my god, you have no idea how much I've been dying to see you baby!" I laugh dismissively, running a hand back through my long blonde hair, back on my perch- about 5 inches above Latvia. A member of his staff quickly realises that my pink Gucci duffel is hanging from my left elbow. He rushes over to take the weight of it from me, promising me that it will be in my room whenever I'm ready. I smile, but only a scowl manages to reach my eyes. And he notices it. The man scurries off upstairs without casting another glance backwards. A turn back to Latvia who is giggling softly, his cheeks rosy red. "Oh,," He scoffs "you have no idea…Alex" He averts his eyes with a polite smile; clearly he thinks that my choice of clothing is showing a bit too much… flesh? I giggle softly, rustling his hair my right hand. "Don't be so shy, darling; it's only a pair of tanned legs! Surely these aren't the only legs that you've laid your eyes on." I wink at him, which clearly embarrasses him as he turn away and scurries into the living room without another word. At least he knew me well enough to know that I was just a flirty spirit. Which clearly wasn't acceptable in Russia. Those bastards had got to him. I adjust my skirt again before turning quickly to follow after Latvia but before I have a chance to open my heavy eyes, I slam into… a person? The force of the impact forces me backwards, my breasts throbbing from the speed of the collision. God, they always got in the way. I push my hair back from my face, opening my eyes. "Watch where you're going bastard!" I shout, with an aggression that is made blatantly obvious. "You democratic bitch. How about you watch where you're going?" I quickly realise the accent: Russia. I scowl harshly up to him. He was unbelievably tall, even with me wearing 4 inch heels, he must have been at least 2 inches taller than me. 6 foot. My hand quickly returns to its place on my hip, my head jutted to the side and my jaw forward; this was the pose that I used when I wanted to make it clear that you were pissing me off. "Russia, how nice to finally meet you." I say, my voice laced with sarcasm that leaves an aftertaste on my tongue. Of course he must have known by now that I hated him.

Chapter 3: Russia.

I laugh my deep gravely laugh before scoffing at her. Who did she think she was? Why did all Americans think that anybody but themselves gave a shit about their "Democracy". I brush a and back through my silver-blonde hair, a dismissive look on my face. I pick up on the sarcasm in her tone immediately. Well, if she wanted to play that game, she would surely lose. I reply with the same tone "And you, New York, I assume." I cross my arms over my broad chest, tucking my rough hands under my arms. "Yes, you assume correctly." She replies with a toss of her thick blonde hair over her shoulder. I scoff, before brushing past her and continuing to stride down the hallway. She will lose this game.

Chapter 4: Alex

I laugh shrilly, shuffling towards where Latvia had gone a few minutes before. But not having the last word in my conversation with Russia stings. So I turn around and scurry after him. "Hey, wait you fucker!" I screech, my heels scraping the marble floor, mimicking my voice. Russia turns his head over his left shoulder, his eyes thin purple slits against the pale pallet of his skin. His mouth morphs into a thin-lipped grimace. 1 hated to admit it, but he was hot. I begin to prowl towards him slowly, my left eyebrow raised into a thin arch. "What do you want, bitch?" He says in a deep voice, laced in a thick Russian accent. "An apology." I stop about an inch in front of him, a hand on my hip. His breath is heavy, and thick with vodka. I smile lopsidedly, my eyes flitting from his eyes to his sexy beige uniform. I knew I shouldn't, but I wanted him. I run my index finger slowly from his collar bone to the buckle of his leather belt. He doesn't stop me. He scoffs and turns his head away before stepping back and taking my wrist in his hand. He grips it firmly. "You know that it won't happen, my dear." He smirks and brushes a strand of hair back from my forehead- which infuriates me. I almost stomp my foot in protest, but stop as I would come across as a petulant child. I return the smirk with more venom, -which will surely piss him off- and jerk my wrist from his grip. "And why's that, my dear?" I mimic his Russian accent. "Because, New York, I disagree with your…Policies. If that's what you call them…" As he says this, he leans closer, his head inclined downwards. I feel his hot breath rush across my high cheekbones, the scent of vodka thick and strong on his breath. "Hmm, what disagreements might you have, my dear Russia?" I jut my jaw forward, my eyes scanning across his tall, muscular body. "Why don't you come back to my room and I'll tell you all about it eh?" He leaves me no time to reply before he grabs my slender hand and leads me upstairs. What am I doing? I know this is forbidden… But, no one will ever find out.

Chapter 5: Alex

Russia closes the door softly behind him, pressing his back against the door and tipping his head back to take a swig from the bottle of vodka which he holds loosely in his hand. He gulps down 5 mouthfuls before offering the bottle to me. I take it and gulp down a mouthful before wiping my mouth with the back of my forearm. Russia takes a deep breath as he crosses the room in 3 long strides to join me on the edge of the bed. We each take it in turns to gulp down vodka for a while before either of us says anything. After about 5 minutes, Russia takes the bottle from me and places it on the table next to the bed. He places a hand on the bed sheets next to my hips to steady himself as he leans closer to me, his breath heavy. He gets close enough so that I can feel the tip of his nose brush against mine, his forehead inclined into mine. I manage to whisper breathlessly "And these disagreements you have?" my pulse ragged. "Are irrelevant." he whispers seductively before he raises his large hands to cup my soft cheeks, his head tilted to the right. He kisses me roughly, his thin lips crushing down on mine. As he deepens the kiss, our breathing becomes ragged; the thick scent of premium Russian vodka rushing through our mouths, lingering on my tongue. I knot my fingers in the back of his silver-white hair, pulling him down onto me. At least, as much as my huge breasts will allow. I push my hands underneath the blazer of his uniform and shove it off his broad shoulders. It drops to the floor. He grips the bottom of my favourite T-Shirt -with the caption 'I'm not sarcastic, I'm just always right' - and tugs it off over my head. He tosses it across the room. My nimble fingers work their way through the buttons of his shirt as his work to unclasp my black lace bra. As I push his shirt back over his shoulders, he tosses my bra over his head. I lean back on my elbows as I watch him slip out of his shirt. He kneels at the end of the bed, next to my feet as I shuffle upwards to rest on the red silk pillows. He follows, moving slowly up my slender, yet curvy, body. One knee placed on either side of my thighs, he unbuckles his belt. By now my thin lace knickers are soaked; my tasty juices running down my thighs and soaking into the hems of my black stockings. I want his cock so bad right now. I lick my lips slowly. Seductively. He smirks down at me and pushes me down so that I lie on my back. He yanks his trousers down slowly to his knees, his belt weighing the fabric down to the bed. He doesn't take them off. The only thing standing in the way of his luscious Premium Russian cock right now is his tight, red leather underpantsu. OMFG he was so desu right now. I reach forward with my right hand to rub his bulging manhood roughly, he closes his eyes, tilts his head back and moans. I blush; he's so kawaii. My panting is heavy and uneven, my eyes wide with the anticipation of what Russia will do to me. "Do… You like it, Russia? Tell me how much you want more desu!" He smirks lopsidedly, grasping my left breast roughly, rubbing it harshly with the rough palm of his hand. "… Ugh…" I groan, my juices are really starting to flow now; they're soaking through the silken sheets. I need him now. "NYA~" I scream as he forces his fingers through the delicate fabric of my lace underwear, his hand beneath my skirt. He shoves 4 fingers deeply inside me. "UGHWIDSHCBJS UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH….SO….DESU…" Oh now, he's torn a hole straight through my underwear… What will I ever do? He continues to jam his beefy fingers into me, my juices running down his hand and forearm. I stop him after a few minutes of this, and sit up. My hands rush to free his huge Russian Bear cock from it's leather cage. I gasp. It's so huge! '

To look at, it's at least 6 foot long; pink glitter and kawaii stars are encrusted into its head and black and white streamers fall loosely from his balls which are just as huge. They weigh a huge dimple in the mattress with their weight.

Russia unravels his bear cock upon the bed. It hangs over the far edge. He laughs throatily, rubbing the back of his neck with a confident hand. I've known him half an hour and I know…I know that I love him. I know that long after we climax mutually in a few minutes and fireworks explode across the midnight sky, he will love me too. I shake my hips to allow my mini skirt to ride up around my waist

; there's no time to take it off. Russia-Kun uses his experienced hands to force my legs open. He leans down and inhales deeply, his nose nestled deeply within my pubic hairs desuuuu. I blush and giggle.