Girlfriend Cums On Married Mans Cock

Girlfriend Cums On Married Mans Cock
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Prologue This prologue is simply a brief retelling of the events of Cabin Fever that are relevant to the actual fanfic. This is here for the benefit of people who aren't familiar with Cabin Fever as it is not a well known movie. If you have seen Cabin Fever, you should be able to jump right in to Chapter 1, as this prologue won't tell you anything you don't already know. DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the movies in the Cabin Fever franchise, nor any of the characters in it.

I do not make any money from the writing of this story. These were dark days. And they had fallen so suddenly upon lives so young; young adults who had yet face the world beyond college. This was meant to be a fun break from the drudgery of study and exams; a nice private getaway to a cozy little cabin in the middle of the woods.

How had it gone so terribly wrong? Marcy reclined on a double bed, staring ruefully out the window, too broken to even cry. She was an exceptionally attractive girl; tall, slender and busty, with long dark brown hair and a beautiful face that had an exotic European quality to it.

In a dark, run-down old toolshed close by, Karen, Marcy's ever-bubbly best friend from college, lay dying. She was covered from head to toe in bleeding wounds that had appeared quickly upon her body. 16 hours ago, she had been fine! But now, she couldn't walk or even stay awake. While the rest of the group had all taken precautions once they realized Karen was so seriously ill, it seemed likely that it would only be a matter of time before they all began to show similar symptoms.

As if the disease wasn't bad enough on its own, there was also a large aggressive dog roaming somewhere around in the surrounding woods that seemed intent on attacking anyone it came upon. Gazing at nothing in particular, Marcy sighed as the last words her now-ex boyfriend Jeff had yelled at her echoed bitterly in her mind. "You can stay here and fucking rot! But not me!

No fucking way, not me!" he'd told her, before running off into the woods alone. He was a handsome guy, in the same way that a brand new display car in the dealership is handsome. His exterior was nice and shiny because the world had always treated him rather delicately, but it had no character; no masculine grit. Marcy now realized all too clearly that it was an affliction that ran more than just skin-deep.

Jeff had been a complete pussy since the moment Karen's first sore appeared. He made a point of keeping his distance from all his friends, even Marcy, just in case one of them had also been infected.

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The final straw came when Marcy heedlessly went to clean Karen up after Karen had been violently ill. Marcy may have been willing to expose herself to the disease to help her friend, but Jeff was not. He stormed out of the cabin in a rage, but not before chastising Marcy for her foolish sympathy. "You can stay here and fucking rot! But not me!

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No fucking way, not me!" Marcy's painful thoughts were momentarily disrupted by the sound of the bedroom door gently closing behind her. She didn't turn to see who it was; she didn't need to. There was only one other person around who was healthy enough to walk: Paul.

Paul was an old childhood friend of Karen's; an archetypal nice guy with curly brown hair and boyish good looks. His light moustache and goatee had grown distinctly darker and messier over the past couple of days as he hadn't been shaving. It was an open secret that Paul adored Karen, but he'd never been able to pluck up the courage to ask her out. It was a shame, as Karen seemed interested herself in exploring a romantic relationship with him.

"We're all gonna get it," Marcy solemnly declared in scarcely more than a whisper. "We're all gonna get sick. And Jeff's in the woods getting drunk!" she added scornfully, referring to the case of beer Jeff had carried off with him, to drown his sorrows in. The bed creaked as Paul sat down on the mattress beside her. He place his hand gently upon her thigh in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. "No. Bert's gonna get help.

Karen will be fine," he insisted. Bert, the fifth member of the group, had driven off in the group's pickup truck earlier, leaving everybody else stranded without transport. The plan had been for everyone to leave together. But Karen became violently ill as they attempted to load her into the truck and it became clear the she couldn't travel.

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An argument ensued and Bert, who was unwilling to wait around any longer, ended up driving off alone. Marcy could hear the doubt in Paul's words, even though he tried his best to conceal it. But the sincere kindness in his voice was actually a little comforting. Things probably were going to get really bad, but at least it was nice she had someone with her; she wasn't alone. But for how long?

The disease acted quickly, but not as quickly as the tension and fear that had quickly whittled the group of four healthy people down to only two.

Was it only a matter of time before Paul turned against her like Jeff had? Then there was the disease itself, either or both of them could succumb to it at any moment. One way or another, it seemed probable that Marcy would soon lose Paul, or perhaps even herself. Then she would be alone. That, above all else, terrified her. "It's like being on a plane when you know it's going to crash," Marcy lamented, "Everybody around you is yelling and screaming, 'We're going down!

We're going down!' And all you want to do is grab the person next to you and fuck the shit out of them, because you know you're gonna be dead soon, anyway." At first it was simply her mouth running away without her, but after a second of pause, she found compelling wisdom in her own words. This could be it; her last opportunity for some real fun. Why not have one final ride before the end? She turned to look her lone companion square in the eye. He was clearly lost, not knowing if her words were some kind of bizarre joke or gibberish from a woman who had lost her mind.

She could tell that some small part of him was actually wondering if she really meant what she'd said. Steeling herself to go ahead with this idea, which on any other day would've been stupid and wrong on so many levels, she lunged aggressively upon her bewildered prey, planting her lips firmly upon his. Grasping his shoulders tightly, she pressed her weight ever more insistently against him until he laid down on the mattress with Marcy on top of him.

His body was like a mannequin, frozen stiff by his abject shock at what was happening. The passion of her kisses was uncompromising.


Come hell or high water, this was going to happen. She paused for a moment; just long enough to peel off her maroon sweater and catch her breath. Gazing down at Paul, she knew that any misgivings he may have had were overridden by the rush of hormones she had stirred up within him. The kissing continued, hot, mad and messy, as the two casual acquaintances relieved each other of the remainder of their clothing.


Finally, as Marcy hastily removed her leopard skin design panties, both of them were completely naked. Paul was sitting upright in the middle of the bed as Marcy straddled him. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulled her close and leaned in to kiss her some more. But Marcy was done with kissing. When her hips dropped on to his lap she made sure his fully-erect member was inside her.

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Paul was startled by the sudden, profound sensation; even more so when Marcy pushed him back on to the mattress with all her might, threw herself on top of him and pinned him down by the upper arms.

She began thrusting in earnest immediately. "You don't use condoms?" he asked her nervously, as all the bogeymen he'd been warned about in sex-ed class flashed through his mind; chief among them being the transmission of disease. "Don't worry. I'm healthy," Marcy curtly dismissed his concerns.

It was an absurd assertion. How could she know such a thing with any certainty? But between the hot, aggressive engagement of her body upon his manhood and the captivating sight of her large breasts heaving to and fro right in front of him, Paul was never going to push the issue any further. The room was plunged into a silence broken only by the hollow ticking of an antique clock and two sets of coital panting.

It was a wild ride, yet the determined and experienced cowgirl remained in complete control throughout. A moment came when she released her hold on Paul's arms to regain her balance and Paul was quick to seize the opportunity to feel for himself just how supple her splendid breasts were.

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He began to lose control of his faculties as his climax neared. His hands slipped past Marcy's armpits and on to her back. In the last few moments her grasped her there firmly, as he struggled with all his will to contain the excitement in his loins.

But Marcy was a merciless partner and her hips kept battering him with pleasure. His strength left him as he came and his hands released her back flesh. Marcy quickly shook both of them from her body as she continued her vigorous thrusting. A couple of soft grunts suggested that, by happy coincidence, Marcy was quite close to her own orgasm. With a final hearty thrust onto Paul's stiff maleness, she flung her head back and gasped in primal ecstasy.

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Only now, having had the "one last sweet fuck" she'd wanted, did the dominant seductress collapse weakly on to her impromptu partner. Paul wrapped his arms around her and held her close. These were dark days for two frightened young adults who scarcely knew each other.

Even now fresh concerns began to haunt both of them about mingling with their partner's bodily fluids in the midst of an outbreak.

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Yet for all it's stupidity, there was no denying that what they had just done had relieved a lot of tension for both of them. For the time being at least, their fears were stifled by a powerful sense of post-coital serenity.

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As they laid silently, their bodies pressed together without a single piece of clothing separating them, their tender privates joined intimately one inside the other, neither Paul nor Marcy felt like they were alone. As they weathered these dark moments, somebody else was there weathering it with them. It wasn't much of a comfort. But it was all either of them had.