Cabin Fever: Parting Short - Part 8

Info HeatAndChills
03 Dec. '18

Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on the 2002 movie, Cabin Fever. The characters and settings of Cabin Fever described in this story remain the property of their original owners. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.


The elevator was so crowded. Filled to the brim with nondescript people in nondescript clothes. Though there was barely enough space to stand comfortably, Paul couldn’t move at all. The orange-yellow floor counter dead center above the doors kept ticking over, routinely stopping with a clinical, electronic “ding”. At every floor, the doors would open and some of his friends at the front of the crowd would march out into the warm, inviting hallways beyond. Paul tried to follow them, but he couldn’t push his way through the crowd. No matter how many people left the elevator, the faceless crowd standing between himself and the exit never seemed to get any thinner.

It felt so strange, being so packed in with all these strangers; so, abnormal.

It was the strangeness that woke him up; that bizarre sense that the bed was a lot more crowded than he was used to.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with a sight he didn’t immediately understand: a thick mass of long, dark hair. Immediately, he was fully awake.

His heart began to race as it all came flooding back to him: the shooting contest, the ‘prize’ he’d won and the late night visit he’d received afterwards.

The memories felt too crazy to be true, but the warm body next to him left no doubt: he had fucked Marcy.

His mind was a complete blank. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel or what to do. What happens next after you impulsively have mind blowing sex with a friend, who happens to be in a relationship with another friend? He was so confused, he couldn’t even feel anxious about the dilemma.

He caught sight of a long track of creamy, bare skin starting from Marcy’s shoulder and a different sequence of memories flashed through his mind. This time, they were all about her magnificent body. His dick began to grow very rapidly.

“Oh! No, no, no, no! Shit!” he privately cursed, as he clenched his eyes shut to prevent the sight of her getting him any more excited. Things were complicated enough as they were. A boner in that bed right now would just stir more chaos into the mix.

He tried to ‘will it’ away. When the same thing had happened the previous night, he had been convinced that the only way to make it go away was to give it release. But this time he felt he needed to be subtler. Jerking off by Marcy’s side seemed appropriate enough when they’d just fucked mere minutes earlier. But now, in the light of a new day, the idea felt rude.

Scrambling for some trick to make the wood go soft again, he quickly decided to reminisce about the last time he got a filling from his balding, spectacled dentist.  It took some time, but eventually the strategy began to work, and after a frustratingly long wait, his manhood was as limp as a wet rag.

With that minor crisis over, Paul tried to come to some understanding about the situation. He wasn’t particularly fixated on figuring out why things had happened the way they had last night, nor was he dwelling on what he was going to do next. He just wanted some measure of clarity about it all, so he didn’t feel so lost.

He deliberately avoided any thoughts which might arouse him once again, which proved to be hindrance. Every time he felt like he was getting somewhere, the animal deep within began salivating, and Paul had to mentally ‘change channels’ before his cock began to rise.

By the time he felt his bedmate stirring, he was no wiser than when he had woken up.

“Oh, shit. Here we go,” Paul thought to himself. He had no game plan. He would just have to wing it.

He laid back and patiently waited out the sequence of random motions she made as she woke. The suspense was unbearable.

Marcy lifted the nearest side of her body for a second and Paul got a fleeting glance of the ample swell of her breast pressed against the mattress. Jesus, what a whopper! That little peek was probably going to give him another boner, but he was too impressed to mind.

Then finally, a single drowsy, hazel eye emerged from that rolling ball of thick brown hair. It widened as soon as it noticed him.

She turned her head and looked him over with both eyes. Her mellow expression suggested that she wasn’t upset, just a little confused.

“Morning,” Paul greeted, in the most casual voice he could manage. He spoke without even thinking, like a reflex action to cut the tension.

An awkward grin curled over Marcy’s face. “Heeeeyyyy…” she responded with a subtle roll of her eyes. It was like she’d suddenly found herself the victim of a practical joke and decided that there was nothing else she could to but take it in good humor.

She laid her heavy head back down on Paul’s shoulder and her hand over his heart. They were only simple gestures, but they put Paul far more at ease. If Marcy was comfortable with this unorthodox sleeping arrangement, then he probably shouldn’t get in a twist about it, either. 

“What time is it?” she gently groaned.

“Uh... Hang on,” Paul replied. He reached over to the nightstand beside him and fetched the wristwatch he’d left there last night, shortly after they’d had sex.

“Uh... It’s like... eight… something,” he reported, struggling to read the small analogue face with his sleepy eyes. “’Bout ten after eight.”

“Mmm... Good. It’s still kinda early, then,” Marcy purred. She was beginning to sound much more ‘awake’ now. Though he couldn’t see her face, somehow Paul knew Marcy’s eyes were wide open.

“I suppose,” he hesitantly agreed. “Some people are probably up and about, though.”

“Probably,” Marcy agreed with a sigh. She tried to hide it, but Paul could hear the apprehension in her voice. “It doesn’t really matter. It wouldn’t have taken them long to figure out what happened, anyway. And Bert kind of saw me coming in here, so... no point worrying about it, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed with a heavy sigh, “I guess you’re right.”

They laid there together in still silence for some time, neither one of them looking forward to the unavoidable chore of leaving that cozy bed, getting dressed and facing the world outside. They listened patiently to the sounds of dawn: the countless lively birdcalls mixed with the subtle creaks and groans of the rustic old cabin and the occasional ‘snap’ of its tin roof expanding under the fresh, warm sunlight. The distinct sounds of footfalls on the cabin’s timber floors confirmed their fears, and though neither of them said so, it soured the moment for them both.

“By the way…” Marcy eventually broke the silence. She raised her head to look Paul in the eye. “... I never got around to thanking you.”

“What for?” Paul asked, puzzled.

“Well... everything!” She answered with a shrug. “You know... for standing up for me on the beach, and for helping me teach those jerks a lesson, and for letting me crash here with you.”

“Hey, no problem,” Paul assured her warmly, “As a roommate, you’re actually a lot of fun…”

Marcy smirked.

“...You don’t cover the walls in death metal posters, you don’t erase my messages and you cook a mean chili,” he continued.

Marcy was chuckling heartily by the time he finished.

“Yeah, and you don’t borrow my clothes,” Marcy replied, after laying back down on his shoulder.

“As far as you know,” Paul facetiously clarified. They both shared a good, discreet laugh.

The joke seemed to be over all too quickly.

“There’s going to be hell to pay when we go out there,” Paul said as he stared at the bedroom door.

“Yeah,” Marcy mournfully agreed.

They each subconsciously embraced the other; Marcy’s fingers curled gently around Paul’s chest hair, as if trying to cling to him like a strip of Velcro, while Paul slipped his arm around the small of her back and gently grabbed hold of his other hand.

They both had a pretty good idea what would happen when they went out to join the others. It was going to be the worst kind of confrontation: the kind where nobody says anything and does nothing. Breakfast would be a frosty atmosphere of cold silence and biting subtext, until finally someone wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and it would all come out into the open, with all the bitterness, bile, and the fury of hell itself.

Unfortunately, there was no telling when that confrontation would occur. Maybe it was going to happen over breakfast, or maybe it would happen later in the day. Quite likely, it would strike them without any warning whatsoever. The only thing that was certain was that it was definitely coming. 

It was like that old movie line about how the worst part of war is the calm before the battle. That was what Paul and Marcy would be walking in to when they left the bedroom.

What Paul dreaded the most was Karen’s reaction, mostly because he couldn’t predict what it might be. She would either be disappointed and think less of him for fucking Marcy simply because the opportunity presented itself, or she wouldn’t particularly care. He couldn’t decide which would be worse.

“You got any ideas what you’re gonna say to Jeff?” he asked Marcy.

Marcy grunted in disdain at the mention of her now-ex boyfriend, “Jeff and I are through.” 

Paul glanced down at her in surprise. He knew that Marcy had been pissed off by Jeff’s drunken stupidity, but he didn’t realize she’d felt that strongly about it.

From Paul’s point of view, Jeff and Marcy’s relationship had always seemed quite volatile, with brief, bitter spot-fire fights punctuating their constant making out and retreats to private quarters.  Despite the anger that would frequently flare up between them, they always made up shortly afterwards. Paul had never understood why they kept making up when there was clearly some serious hostility beneath the surface of their relationship, but he didn’t judge.

Paul had just assumed that this one night stand with Marcy was just another instance of her lashing out at her boyfriend; a severe psychological spanking for acting like such a douche earlier. But apparently, it had been less a case of Marcy trying to hurt Jeff and more a case of her consummating her decision to leave him finally.

“I figure I can do better than a boyfriend who treats me like a gambling chip to make bets with,” Marcy explained, her voice wavering with hints of pain and doubt.

“You can,” Paul asserted with all the confidence she lacked.

He planted a tender kiss upon her forehead. Ordinarily, such an intimate gesture would’ve felt creepy between the casual friends. But curled up in bed, their naked bodies pressed against one another, it seemed most appropriate. Despite her tough facade, Paul could tell Marcy needed the moral support right now and in the raw, naked aftermath of their night of passion together, there were no taboos.

“You can,” he repeated, even stronger than before. His embrace around her tightened; his left hand curled all the way around her until it was grasping her left shoulder, while his right hooked around her right hip and pulled her body closer. His pinkie skimmed the bulging flesh of her ass, but there was nothing lecherous about his touch.

“Thanks,” she replied with a deep, sorrowful sigh. 

“What about you and Karen?” she inquired, artfully changing the subject. When no answer came, she lifted her head off Paul’s shoulder and gazed up at him attentively.

“I don’t know,” Paul replied with exasperation. “I... I still have feelings for her. But right now, I don’t think I’m interested. Like, I look at her and I can’t help but see... them.”

Marcy nodded in understanding, “Total mood killer.”

“Yeah,” Paul sighed. “I dunno, maybe somewhere down the line...”

Marcy waited until it became clear that Paul had nothing more to say before she responded, “Well, yes, you’re still gonna be pretty sore about it. I mean it’s only been 24... 36 hours since it happened. Give it some time, maybe you’ll get past it.”

“Maybe,” Paul skeptically agreed.

Marcy smiled and affectionately stroked his hair. They were by no means unwelcome gestures, but at the same time, they didn’t instill him with the hope that Marcy was trying to offer. Quite the opposite, in fact. He couldn’t help but think that there was something seriously fucked up about discussing romantic feelings for his long-time crush, while canoodling naked with a woman he’d just had earth-rocking sex with the night before. It was all such a mess, Paul began to suspect that there was no realistic hope of salvaging a healthy relationship out of it.

“I dunno, maybe I should just forget about her,” he said softly. “I mean, I don’t even know if I had a chance with her anyway.”

There was a change in Marcy’s manner. It was subtle, but Paul noticed it. It was as if she had some opinion, or perhaps even inside knowledge on the subject, but felt compelled to keep it to herself for some reason. If that was the case, Paul was too tired to try to drag it out of her 

“This whole week,” he continued, “I kept seeing all these little signs that I was getting somewhere with her, y’know? Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.

“It’s hard to argue with reality, y’know? She ended up fucking Bert and then I ended up in bed with you. Maybe I’m supposed to take it as a sign that it’s just not meant to be.”

“You don’t really believe that, though,” Marcy told him after a thoughtful pause.

“You think it sounds like a bunch of bullshit?” Paul asked, sheepishly.

Marcy shrugged, “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that it doesn’t sound like you believe it.”

“I don’t want to believe it,” Paul replied. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, right?

“I guess I’m just confused. I need some time to figure it all out. I had all these ideas about what was going to happen over the past couple days and then they went nothing like how I expected,” he told her.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Marcy chuckled dryly. Paul echoed her cynical mirth, appreciating the irony of how his and Marcy’s separate problems allowed each of them to relate to the other so well.

 “You mind if I give you some advice?” Marcy asked after a long pause. There was a cool sense of caution in her tone; the word ‘advice’ was meant to be interpreted as ‘criticism’ and if he said ‘yes’, she wasn’t going to sugarcoat what came next.

“Yeah, I guess,” Paul shrugged. Ordinarily, he would’ve been more guarded when responding to a question like that. But right now, he was too rested and numb to be damaged by blunt words.

“You kind of have a tendency to over-think things…” Marcy told him, in a voice much gentler than Paul had expected.

The remark caught him by surprise. He didn’t quite know how to respond, so he didn’t.

“Like, right now: every time I move around a little, you take a quick peek down to see if you can see any more of my boobs...”

Paul could feel the blood rushing to his face. One second he had been listening to casual pillow talk, the next he was getting ambushed about his voyeuristic impulses. And he thought he’d been so discreet…

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen much, though, right?” she pressed him, with a dry smirk.

“Uh... Well, uh... I...” Paul awkwardly stalled.

“If you want to play with them, just go for it!” Marcy instructed, her voice as gentle and relaxed as could be

“Are you serious?” Paul silently asked her with his wide-open eyes.

“I can always say ‘no,’” Marcy added, only compounding Paul’s confusion. If she’d had a meaningful point that she was trying to get across, it had been totally lost on Paul by now. He wasn’t thinking about self-improvement anymore, he was only thinking about tits.

When he didn’t immediately react, Marcy leaned in and stared him down with a feisty smirk.

“I’m not going to say ‘no,’” she assured him in a sultry whisper.

A tentative grin grew on Paul’s face as he gradually concluded that she was indeed offering her fabulous tits up to him once again.

He drew his right hand down under her armpit and spread his grasp around the hot, sumptuous bulge he felt beneath. He pressed his fingers in and gently squeezed. He’d forgotten just how large they were; how yielding her flesh was. The erotic memories he had of the previous night couldn’t compare to holding the genuine article in his hand.

She was so goddamned sexy. Not simply because she was stacked, but also because of how she operated. It amazed Paul how smoothly she could bring breast play in to a serious conversation, as if it were no big deal. There was an artful grace to this side of her, one that Paul had noticed in her long ago. She wielded sex like it was an extension of herself. She was so bold, so shameless, so masterful in the way that she played the turbulent currents of sexual chemistry between herself and the men who fawned over her. It shocked him occasionally, but deep down it never failed to impress him.

“Happy now?” Marcy softly asked with a grin of approval.

“Mm-hmm” Paul agreed, trying to conceal his excitement and play it as cool as her.

 “Good,” said Marcy.

Right on cue, Paul’s cock began to grow and rise at an urgent pace. It made him nervous. Just because Marcy was letting him feel her up didn’t mean she’d be cool with him sporting a boner while they were in bed together. Second base was a fair way from home, after all. He was enjoying himself; he didn’t want things to get weird.

“Oh! Hello!” Marcy chirped in surprise as Paul’s rising erection brushed across her thigh.

“See, your little friend down there knows what I’m talking about,” she told Paul. Her face was radiant with amusement, which came as a great relief to him. “When he wants something, he just stands up and goes for it. A real man of action.

“You should follow his lead more often,” she advised.

“Uh... Okay,” Paul awkwardly responded, still not quite understanding what Marcy was trying to say. Of course, it didn’t help that his attention was focused elsewhere.

“Here, let me give you a better angle,” Marcy said as she rolled on to her side. That was much better! Not only could Paul hold her boob properly now instead of merely clasping it from the side between his thumb and fingers, but more importantly, he could see both of them! Damn, they were spectacular! So big and proud; pure femininity in its most overt form. Particularly, he found himself captivated by her candy-pink nipples, which were so beautifully petite compared to the grand size of the breasts themselves.

Her left nipple danced for Paul like a sensual harem girl, as he began to gently squeeze the breast and distort its shape. However, it soon disappeared in to the palm of his hand as his grasp grew increasingly ambitious.

“Better?” Marcy inquired, already knowing the answer.

“Much!” Paul gleefully growled.

She made a sound, something between a giggle and a wanton sigh, as she tried to lay her head down on her pillow without shifting her body so much it would interrupt Paul’s fun.

The occasional dull thuds and murmurings of life outside the bedroom did little to spoil the comfortable peace between them. Marcy looked on with warm serenity as Paul kneaded her breast with devotion. Eventually, the rhythmic fondling plateaued.  

“Think you’re getting it out of your system?” Marcy teased.

“I suppose so, yeah,” Paul replied. “Feels good!” he chuckled. It was strange how he never really realized how badly he wanted to play with Marcy’s tits until she’d offered him the opportunity. He thought he’d managed to put them out of his mind, aside from that persistent little itch to steal one more decent glance. But now that he really held one of them in his hand, it felt like he would’ve gone crazy if he’d repressed himself much longer.

“So, you get what I’m saying?” Marcy asked once she’d settled into a comfortable position.

“Uh... yeah, I guess. You’re saying... that I... what? That I should come on stronger?” Paul replied, clearly distracted.

“Hmm... kind of,” Marcy sighed, seemingly frustrated by the different wavelengths they were obviously on.

“I guess what I’m saying is that with real life shit, you can’t make it all some carefully mapped out plan, you know? You can’t just make a list like, ‘This is what I’m gonna do Monday; This is what I’m gonna do Tuesday…’ and so on.
“You have to be more in the moment than that. Be impulsive; follow your gut.

“If you get the feeling that things are going your way, then press your advantage. A guy like you can do that without being an ass about it. If you’re wrong and doesn’t pay off, well then, so be it. But don’t pretend like the opportunity isn’t there just ‘cause you weren’t anticipating it.”

Marcy was definitely giving Paul some serious food for thought, so much so that he all but forgot about the whopping breast in his hand.

“I’m not saying, ‘give up on the thoughtful stuff,’” she continued. “There’s plenty of room for that: you know, putting some effort in to impress, showing that you care, going for a mental connection. That’s all good.

“But you’ve got to follow up all that strategy with some action, you know? Like, when you actually get together with her, you need to really be ’there‘ with her.

“’It’s that stuff that happens in the moment, that’s where all the magic happens. That’s when you feel most alive; when you enjoy it the most. Trust me, if you want to get with a girl, you need to be a part of that moment. You have to let her know you’re there with her, sharing it with her, so she can see how much she enjoys being with you. You can’t do that if you’re running off some battle plan.

“Sorry,” she giggled, shaking off her pensive torpor in an instant. “Am I making even less sense now than I was before?”

“No,” Paul croaked. He didn’t lift his gaze to meet hers, but his voice was so insistent and sincere, Marcy instinctively believed him.

“Good,” Marcy responded happily, sounding very satisfied with herself.

It was a lot to take in. Marcy had given him a new perspective on his difficulties with Karen.

Although he understood the essence of her advice, he felt more confused than enlightened. He needed to ‘stop thinking so much’ about his advances towards Karen? How was he supposed to do that? How do you stop thinking about the very thing you are trying to do?

It all seemed moot right now, anyway. Even if Marcy had handed him a sure-fire, easy-to-follow recipe for winning Karen’s adoration, Paul had doubts he’d  go out there and use it. He felt like he just wanted a little distance for now.

Then, for no apparent reason, his solemn musings of Karen faded quickly away, like a flame that had exhausted its candle. He became acutely aware of the tenacious stiffness of his cock and he once again took notice of the sizable mound of soft, feminine flesh in his hand. An uncanny sense of serenity rushed through him as he gazed deeply upon the smooth, tanned skin of Marcy’s upper breast and watched the pores and sparse freckles undulating due to his rhythmic squeezes.

“Damn! I have a fucking amazing knocker in my hand!” he suddenly appreciated.

Paul absolutely adored tits. He’d never admit it aloud, but as far as he was concerned, they were the most fantastic creations on God’s green earth. Admiring them via pictures and videos was easy enough to do in this day and age, but actually being able to feel their sweet consistency with his own hand was all too scarce a privilege. In this case, it was an extra special blessing, as these were no ordinary breasts. Fondling such an exquisite pair was literally a pipe dream from his teenage years that had miraculously come true.

Paul gazed down at her other breast; hiding deeper in the shadowy ‘hinge’ between Marcy herself and the mattress, where it was more difficult for him to reach. Its bulk rested majestically upon the mattress in a way that barely compromised its regular shape. He stared at the dainty little nipple at its center; so seductively pink and covered with the silkiest, softest of skin. All he could think about was how satisfying it would be to suck on that scrumptious little gland.

“’Be in the moment!’” he privately reiterated Marcy’s earlier advice. “’Be impulsive!’

“Well, no time like the present!” he reasoned. With that, he cupped and lifted Marcy’s left breast - the one he’d been fondling - and dove hungrily upon it, taking the nipple and much of the surrounding flesh in to his mouth. Only after he’d already begun suckling did he wonder if this was a step too far. A surge of adrenaline made him quiver as he worried that he might be about to get slapped. But even the risk of rejection couldn’t deter him from feasting upon that supple breast. 

“Hey!” Marcy reacted. She was certainly surprised, but she didn’t seem upset at all. Paul cautiously took it as a sign of consent and continued suckling.

“Looks like you got the message after all,” Marcy told him warmly.

Paul was uncertain how to take those words. Was that big speech of hers really about his failed love life? Or had it all been just a veiled effort to persuade him in to one more casual fling? Who was in control of what was happening right now, him or Marcy?

After thinking about it, he figured that Marcy’s advice had probably been sincere. If she’d only been interested in fooling around with him, it would be more like her to just be direct about it. After all, she’d practically just barged in to his room last night and told him, “I want to fuck you.”

All the same, Paul realized that he wasn’t the one in control right now: Marcy was. She was ’always‘ in control. She was just so sexy, Paul couldn’t help but be captivated by her; he couldn’t help but desire her with every fiber of his being. Marcy had a hold over him that he just couldn’t break.

Not that Paul minded, though. He didn’t need to be in control; he was enjoying himself.

He loved her tender breast with unguarded passion. He plowed its yielding skin with his teeth, lapped the erect little nipple with his tongue and freely suckled upon entire mouthfuls of woman. It was a gushing testament to his lifelong adoration of the female form, specifically the bust.

Marcy moved her leg and inadvertently bumped her thigh in to his cock. Once again, he became acutely aware of how hard he was. Suddenly, her tits weren’t enough anymore. There was something he desired even more.

He slid his other hand down through the tight gaps between their bodies, navigating Marcy by touch until he found her warm crotch.

He reflected on how sexy her bush was as he ran his fingers through it. Most girls he’d seen in porn were completely bald down there. There was a definite appeal to that look. But, he had been most impressed last night when he discovered the generous crop of hair Marcy had on her privates. It made her seem more womanly, more sexually mature than the multitude of hairless teases he’d seen before. Yet, just like every other aspect of her appearance, there was elegance to the way Marcy kept her nether regions. The nice, wide landing strip showed off how lusciously rich her hair was down there, but the ruler-straight edges spoke of a sophisticated woman in charge of her own sexuality. That was so Marcy: she didn’t just flaunt what nature gave her; she flaunted it like an expert. 

He watched her face carefully as he touched her labia, looking for any sign that the move might be unwelcome. The soft smile that her mouth curled into eliminated all his remaining doubts. This was happening: he was really going to fuck her again! In retrospect, he figured that sex was all but inevitable once you start titty-playing with a girl you’re naked in bed with. But then again, pretty much everything about their time together over the past 24 hours flew in the face of what one would expect.

Paul massaged her privates with diligence and confidence, employing all the guidance she’d given him the previous morning. It wasn’t long before his fingers were practically swimming in her juices. He noticed the movement of her breasts increasing as her breath quickened.

The stiffness of his rod was driving him crazy. He needed to let it taste her so badly. But he didn’t want to be too eager, like he’d been last night. This was shaping up to be such a great experience, he didn’t want to spoil it by being impatient.

He rolled Marcy over on to her back without his fingertips ever leaving her pussy. Now he could finally reach her right breast. The poor thing hadn’t had any attention all morning and had none of the spritely perk of arousal that her twin displayed. Paul lunged upon its relaxed little nipple and began suckling in earnest. At the same time, his fingers changed their game and began testing the depths of her slit.

He did his best not to disrupt the foreplay as he propped himself up and edged closer and closer to her. Judging by the broad grin on her face, whatever he was doing was working. He had to stop suckling her tit when he finally swung his leg over to position himself on top of her, but he was able to keep up the masturbation.

Their eyes met as he leaned over her. There were no words, but the hot, heavy breath said it all.
They came together in a passionate kiss, while Paul’s fingers danced furiously upon the threshold of her sex.

It was too much; he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of Marcy’s womanhood any longer.

He removed his hand and lined his erection up with her opening. Marcy’s hand seemed to come out of nowhere and gently grasped him by the shaft to help guide him in.

The first push was amazing: feeling the tight, smooth flesh sliding down his cock. He saw something in her eyes as he penetrated, something indescribable but beautiful. The slightest shimmer of a tear of joy and a quickening of her pulse. It felt like he’d just watched her complete her metamorphosis from intelligent human being to primal sex kitten. All he could see in her was a hot, naked animal that wanted nothing except to be hammered by a nice, hard cock. Paul was most happy to oblige.

The furious, messy kissing resumed as Paul began thrusting vigorously. The old cast-iron bed frame began to squeak in a distinctly coital rhythm. It wasn’t subtle and Paul suspected that the others would be able to hear it.

“Who the fuck cares?” he thought to himself, while Marcy sucked on his bottom lip. “Whatever it’s going to cost me later for this hot pussy, it is totally, totally worth it!”

Marcy had to come up for air eventually, but Paul was still hungry, so he took to mouthing her neck, just below her left ear.

“Hey!” she sighed after catching her breath somewhat. She placed her hand on the side of his butt and grabbed it so firmly it disrupted his rhythm.

“Easy there, tiger! There’s no hurry. It isn’t a race,” she scolded him sweetly.

“Sorry,” Paul sheepishly panted, as he slowed the pace of his hips to half of what it had been before.

He leaned in for more kisses and Marcy reciprocated, but they had lost the fire they’d had before. He moved down further and began to mouth her jaw.

“Well, technically, I suppose it is a race…" Marcy corrected her earlier remark. “But you’ll be a lot more popular if you come second in this one.”

Paul chuckled.

“Ow! I just got a cramp!” he replied facetiously. “Guess you’ve got the lead.”

Marcy grinned broadly and giggled.

“Don’t worry. We’re both going to win,” she replied in a whispering growl.

They locked lips once more.  Only this time, the fire had returned. Marcy began to rake her fingers aggressively through his curly hair. Her other hand wrapped around his back and held him quite insistently.

Paul kept to the moderate pace Marcy had set him on, but he made up for it by humping her more forcefully than before. With every thrust, he pressed her shapely hips deep in to the mattress beneath.

Her pussy was sheer paradise. It teased him non-stop with its toothless bite and stroked every hungry nerve in his cock each time he pushed inside. Not to mention how it stroked the profound urges that laid much deeper. Paul wished this wonderful dance would never end and yet ironically, the ending was what he wanted more than anything else.

Paul felt Marcy’s legs wrap around him and close against his butt, attempting to lock their sexes together so that he wouldn’t be able to pull out even if he wanted to.

The kisses stopped; this time it was Paul who needed to take a breather. Marcy kept going, leaving Paul swooning. The tender lips dancing across her cheek added to the myriad of delightful sensations he was caught up in.

He kept grinding away, his hips running on automatic. His pace smoothly increased, but not to the point of being impatient. He happily persisted, even as his thighs and stomach began to ache and his body roasted like an oven. But eventually he succumbed to the sweet kiss of Marcy’s womanhood.

A dizzying lethargy came over him just as his loins began to thunder. His upper body collapsed on to Marcy as dead weight, while his crotch pressed firmly against hers on sheer reflex. He felt her soft tits cushioning his pecks and he relished it.

As his cock gushed triumphantly in to Marcy’s lithe, young abdomen, she serenaded him with an erotic song of breathy, wanton moans. At that moment, a single thought took root Paul’s mind: he was so glad he had come out here to the North Carolina backwoods with his friends.

It turned out this vacation was exactly what he had needed. Not the quiet, isolated woods, the horseplay in the lake or the ambitious amount of drinking he’d done; but this right here - cutting loose and getting it on with a random hot girl.

The truth was, it wasn’t college that he needed a break from. What he’d really needed a break from was his friend-zone limbo with Karen. For years he’d kept himself tied in knots over the relationship he so desperately wanted with her. All those moments when he felt that distance between them, all those times he watched in anguish as some other guy got close to her - they took their toll.

The assignments and exams, the piddling other social dramas, shortness of cash; those kinds of troubles would come and go. But this thing with Karen had been pulling on his heart strings non-stop for the better part of a decade.

Paul had come on this trip hoping it would improve his relationship with Karen. Though it hadn’t played out the way he had intended, that was precisely what had happened. With Marcy’s help, he managed to stop dwelling on Karen for a little while and start caring about himself. He gave himself a chance to have fun just being a guy. He finally tended to that quintessential masculine need to put his cock inside a gorgeous, gorgeous woman and release the sperm he’d been repressing for eight years.

It seemed counter-intuitive, but Paul couldn’t deny that his head was in a much better place now than it had been beforehand. He felt liberated; rejuvenated. All he had lost for certain was a good measure of his frustrations and self-pity; things that had only been souring his friendship with Karen. Guilty pleasure or not, these casual flings with Marcy had been a diversion he’d sorely needed.

The vacation had been great and it wasn’t even over yet...