Self Indulgence ((Countryhumans Oneshots))

(NSFW) Limbs //Second Reich//

He undid his trousers, and laid them aside, folding them up into a neat little square at the end of his bed. Then, he sat back on his bed. He stuck his thumbs under his drawers and pulled them down, and off his legs. He looked down at himself with a bit of hesitation. Finally, he took one of his tentacles, and wrapped it firmly around his own member. It was cool, not cold. It didn't feel like a hand or human flesh. He didn't know why he hadn't tried this before. It was probably because he repressed the thought of his extra limbs' existences so often that he never thought to explore their more-- enjoyable uses.

He began to slowly brush up and down, with a satisfying squelching noise. As he went on, he curled more and more of this impressive limb about his cock, until it was fully encased with wetness. And as blood rushed to his member, it began to heat the barest surface of the appendages, making it seem that much more like a proper human hole. The Second Reich let himself pant a little, as he used the tip of his tentacular club to tease back his foreskin slightly.

And, he didn't need to confine himself to rubbing. He began to start a sort of pulse down his tentacle, that squeezed and released pressure much akin to the way a centipede's legs flow. It was mind numbing. He moved one of his other limbs to cup his balls, tug on them, and massage the seam of skin between them. It felt like a long, cold tongue, that could just envelope all of him. He leaned back on his arms, panting in the cold and quiet, letting out an occasional grunt, or maybe a whine.

Then, he had another thought. And he immediately felt his face burning up. The idea was scandalous! But-- he was alone. He might never have the chance to have anyone satisfy him. He might as well try.

He got down onto his hands and knees across his bed, still keeping his cock occupied, and curled one of his other limbs around against his hole. He just rubbed it slightly, at first. It was cold, and made his entrance wink, sending a chill up his spine. But it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He doubted he could find anything entirely unpleasant while his member was stroked so well.

He thinned out his tentacle slightly, placing its tip right at the hole, and then, plunged it in. He let out an 'ooh' of surprise at how cool it felt, now inside his body. It didn't stretch him much, because of how easily it squished, but once inside, it fattened out and seemed to fill him to the brim. He groaned, arching his back, and presenting his ass for the figure of his imagination who was actually fucking him. He let the tentacle undulate inside him, as he sunk to his elbows, and drooled from the continued wetness around his cock, and the cool filling of his ass. His cock was dribbling precum that seemed indistinguishable from the slime of his limbs.

He avoided his prostate for a moment. Just enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling of entrance, where there had only been exit. He rumbled with pleasure, feeling out his own interior, every curvature, and every scrap of warmth that was heating the limb inside of it as they went along. He found it a funny feeling to curl up his limb, just beyond the entrance, and trace the interior of the gateway muscle. He continued to drool across his bed sheets.

Then, finally, he reached up further with his appendage, and began stroking his most sensitive spot with a gentle pulse, a brush-- and he absolutely crumbled. He let out an honest-to-God moan. He teased that gland a little bit, and let his grip on his member relax, in favor of focusing on this new sensation that made his gut ache for ravishing.

He let out a heavy sigh, as he drew his limb out a bit, and then shoved it back in, as he had pleased others. He let out a cry, and looked back at the fat, dripping thing that came out from his shoulder, and was now buried deep inside him. He twisted somewhat, so that he could lean on his elbow and look at himself, as he began to rock his body back and forth. The tentacle shrank somewhat at the entrance of his ass, as it conformed to fit inside, but it felt huge, curling and writhing, and feeling him out like a thousand tongues that had been drinking ice cold water. He continued to, as crude as it was to say, fuck himself in this manner. His insides were warm to his flexible limbs, and his limbs were cold to his insides. There was a disconnect between the limb pleasuring, and the orifice that was was being pleasured, enough for him to imagine it was someone else.

And he was able to trace along the skin of his chest, and tease his nipples with the change of temperature. If he had wanted to, he could have stuck another in his mouth, but the idea didn't appeal to him.

He decided to pick up the pace, and he just lay his head back down onto his bed, with his ass in the air like a whore, and he began to pump his cock once again, and tug at his balls, all to the quick rhythm of completely filling himself to the brim, then drawing out, and thrusting it back in again. Because the limb itself was so soft, he could go as fast as he liked, and he wouldn't be able to hurt himself. He went faster, and faster, grunting and moaning from the intensity of it all, as he just braced himself enough to keep himself in the same place.

His body felt so hot, thick, and sweet, like warm maple syrup, and his limbs, that he used to caress himself and fill that void he didn't even know he had, they were just chilled enough to be like unlike anything else he had felt. He felt so heavy, but so light-headed. Like his brain was turning to mush. There was nothing left of his dignity, and he would be horrified if anyone found him like this. Somehow, that thought made the experience entirely more arousing.

He was at top speed for only a little bit before he finally came across the limbs that writhed around his cock. He gave a few last, lazy strokes to his still-tender length, sending a few last jolts of sensation up his spin, and he finally drew out his dripping tentacle from his stretched hole.

He didn't feel sore at all. He just felt overwhelmed and wet, and tired, and hot. He didn't have the presence of mind to get into any sort of bed clothes, or wash up, so he just sighed, and crawled under the covers. He fell asleep with his tentacles twisted about himself.

He'd be doing this again.