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The Notebook	By : PersonOfDisinterest Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Legend of Korra, The Views: 66558 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Legend of Korra or its characters and am making no profit from this work.

Chapter List
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"I'd advise that you give my proposal some serious thought," the man said, setting his fingertips together beneath his chin. The President tried to do so - really, he tried. But it was difficult to think with his wife whimpering and begging over there in the corner.
"Wait, please. Wai-mmmpfhh!"
That was the sound of his dear, cherished Buttercup being stuffed full like a chicken-pig. Except it wasn't a shining red apple that stretched her jaw wide but the longer, much thicker than average shaft of a tall, muscle bound man of the Water Tribe.
The snap of fingers brought his eyes back to the finely attired gentleman sitting in front of him.
"President Raiko, please," Varrick said. "I require your full attention for this matter!"
"You're despicable," Raiko retorted, struggling to rise up out of his seat to no avail. He was bound tightly to the otherwise plush, comfortable chair, a captive in his own private box above the probending arena.
"What?" Varrick said, apparently affronted. "A man can't ask a question?"
"You know what I mean," Raiko snarled. "Buttercup..."
"Oh! No, that's too big! Uuungh!"
The President's wife was down on her knees, spit on a pair of glistening stallion cocks. Her dazzling evening dress was bunched up in large, dark hands and her elegant hairdo wound around thick fingers. A pile of wood underneath her limp, jolting-back-and-forth body now would be all that was needed to complete the image. Raiko covered his eyes and wept. Nuktuk, prancing about on the giant screen held aloft in the middle of the arena, cheered with inappropriate timing.
"Come now, my good man, I would hear your decision," Varrick spoke with a touch of impatience. "I have laid out all my cards on the table. Look."
Raiko did look, and indeed Varrick's deck of cards were spread out on the low table between them. "I can't," he moaned, shaking his head.
"You can't what?"
"I can't."
"As you said already, but what?"
"I can't!"
"Mr. President," Varrick huffed, "even a man of such eccentric ingenuity as myself has little fondness for riddles."
"I can't," Raiko repeated, "not while my beloved Buttercup..."
...was whining and yelping, turned over onto her back with the hulking shape of Varrick's lackey nestled between her open thighs, the roll of powerful hips pummelling a well-matured cunt into submission. And there were two others in wait, stroking members so long and heavy they drooped under their own weight.
"There is the possible outbreak of war between the North and South on the horizon," Varrick said incredulously. "Get your priorities in order, man!"
Meanwhile, his lackeys had figured out their order. Buttercup was the center of attention, squashed between the hard, oppressive bodies of not two but all three men. Rivulets of perspiration trailed down the contoured planes of muscular chests she was pressed up against from all directions. Tears streaked down the cheeks of the President as he watched another man's tongue force its way into his wife's open, panting mouth.
"I will discuss nothing," he squeezed out from behind clenched teeth, "I will agree to nothing until you untie me and call off your men from violating my poor Buttercup!"
Varrick stared at him for a long moment, in which behind him Nuktuk could be heard declaring his undying love - yet again - for a freshly rescued Ginger. "Violating?!" he cried in outburst. "Now see here, Raiko, such slander upon my good name and character will not do!"
"Then call them off!"
"Your wife is the one who called them on."
Raiko blinked. "What?"
Varrick clapped a hand over his eyes and exasperatedly gestured towards the noisy corner of the private box. "My man, look and listen."
"Oh yes. Oh wow! You boys - ummm!"
The President stared in utter, complete, disabling disbelief, eyes wide behind rimmed spectacles that were slowly slipping down the bridge of his nose. Varrick's men were on their feet and Buttercup had been swept off of hers. She was the mature, pale-skinned filling in a sandwich of dark, bulging muscles slick with sweat, double stuffed with long dickmeat that pistoned in and out of her to the tune of skin slapping wetly against skin. Mascara ran down her cheeks in blotches, spit glistening on the shaft of the third man who grabbed one of the hands Buttercup had wrapped around the shoulders of the other and had her pump his length with a closed fist.
"Oh," the woman cried out, bouncing so high on deep, surging thrusts that Raiko could glimpse every inch of cock sink back into her holes afterwards, "you boys really know how to treat a lady!"
"Bu-Bu-Buttercup...?" the man weakly stammered, and just like that his voice was as broken as his resolve.
"And what is this nonsense about tying you up," Varrick exclaimed. "I think, President Raiko, that you've a severe case of short term memory!"
"What...what is that supposed to mean?"
"My good man, I am merely partaking in the friendly conversation to which you agreed to host! My security team, who are with me at all times to guard my body and genius mind from the unscrupulous acts of competing businessmen? Of course I did not set them on your wife. And you're not tied to your chair. What kind of monster do you think I am?"
"But...but then Buttercup..."
"She took them over to that corner of the room out of the way so we could discuss the tensions between the North and Southern Water Tribes," Varrick recounted. "I assumed you were a-okay with this arrangement as you made no verbal complaint when your wife began pulling off their clothes. And I'm certainly no wet blanket! So may we kindly get back to the matter at hand: my proposal? I hope you recall the details. I tossed my notes over the balcony in a grand display of trademark spontaneity."
And they floated idly in the water surrounding the play field below.
Raiko wasn't listening, however - and he hadn't been listening earlier either. The shattered husband was too busy hammering the proverbial nail further into his own heart, watching his beloved Buttercup jerk off three enviably equipped men with both her hands and some creative use of her mouth. He closed his eyes upon hearing the first telling groan, but it wasn't enough. He lifted his hands and tried gouging them out. Unfortunately, his spectacles were in the way.
"In retrospect," Varrick mused, "perhaps I should have stationed my security outside? You're awfully distracted."
"My wife..." Raiko moaned helplessly, as she moaned hungrily.
"Hmm. Indeed, this was a bad idea," Varrick said, rising to his feet. "We should talk outside. You know what they say about Water Tribe men, always up for another round. Ha ha!" the man chortled. "Get it? Always 'up'?"
The President began sobbing.
Varrick blanched. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
But no apology could erase the sight of Buttercup Raiko, after several years of unfulfilled marriage, tossing aside her stained, crumpled up evening dress and baring her body with a lusty smile on her face. Nor the memory of watching those hungry, curved lips stretch wide around a thick, Water Tribe cock. So perhaps, several months afterwards, it was no surprise that General Iroh received certain orders from the President's office. He had taken into account Varrick's proposal. Sort of. Two vast, armed-to-the-teeth fleets arrived at the poles some weeks later. The Water Tribes got the war they'd been asking for.
Hell hath no fury like a man cucked.
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The Notebook