Cabin Fever: Lovechild

The scene was already divine. The bright, mid-morning sun shone down upon her, illuminating and glorifying all of her majestic curves.

Then the soft spring breeze tugged at the slim tendrils of hair that had managed to slip free from her hair tie. They shimmered as they danced in the air, as if to torment Paul even further. He marveled at how the sunlight turned them from chestnut brown to gold.

Despite the clear, sunny weather, the air was still quite brisk. Marcy looked right at home in her tight, burgundy sweater and dark blue sweatpants.

Paul's coffee was getting cold as he gazed at her from all the way across the quad. He couldn't have cared less.

Something had made Marcy hesitate; made her stay in place for just a moment, giving him a clear, unobstructed view. Until that moment passed, Paul had no time for anything else.

He couldn't have been more wide awake; but his heartbeat was as calm and measured as a man fast asleep. That was normal. His heart was always peaceful when he caught a glimpse of her these days.

It had been very different in the beginning. In the weeks when Paul first became so wrapped up in her, the mere thought of Marcy used to make his heart race like crazy. Now, he only felt peace.

For Paul, there was no mystery about where all that boisterous spirit had gone. He was looking at it, right now: across the quad, sealed away inside that perfect swell in Marcy's belly.

He had given it to her in a fit of careless ecstasy, a little more than seven months ago. His energy, his strength, his flair - all the qualities that define a 20-year-old male striving to assert himself in the world - had exploded out of him in a desperate bid to reach her splendid womb. Even now, Paul could vividly recall how slow and weak his heartbeat had been immediately after it had happened; how he had realized almost immediately that his fiery male vigor had abandoned him.

Marcy, with all her feminine grace, had nurtured that power and grown it in to a magnificent baby bump.

Looking over at it now, so large and proud on Marcy's frame, he was pleased. His precious life energy was precisely where it was supposed to be. It was a truth he was certain of, on an instinctive level.

Paul wasn't oblivious to the complications of 'getting a girl in trouble'. Those concerns had caused him plenty of sleepless nights over the past few weeks. But all that anxiety went away whenever he saw Marcy; especially recently, with her belly growing ever bigger. Seeing her made all the first-world drama and sexual politics fade away; leaving only the memory of that amazing, primal act through which that bundle of complications was conceived.

Try as he might, Paul couldn't bring himself to regret such a perfect experience. At times, he couldn't understand how or why, but even after seven months and the benefit of hindsight, he was still thoroughly delighted that he and Marcy had sex.

It had forever changed him. It had changed her even more. In his mind, Paul was aware that they were bittersweet changes, at the very best. But in his heart, all he felt was satisfaction.

For a brief instant, he took his eyes off Marcy to take note of the trees lining the quad. High above her was a lush green canopy of spring regrowth. It reminded him of the brown, fallen leaves that had blanketed the ground that evening, many months ago; how they had decorated the sidewalks he had traveled on his way to that fateful encounter.

He smirked as he realized how the rolling of the seasons was not unlike the many timely changes that had occurred between Marcy and himself over that period. Fall had been a season of change for both of them, as the simplicity of their relationship, and the presumptions they both had about their futures gradually wilted away. Winter began with an abrupt and sobering chill, but quickly settled into a period of dormant numbness. Now, with the dawning of spring, came hints of a new beginning and bright, new opportunities. Once again, Paul felt that things were changing; though to what end, he couldn't say.

He mused that Mother Nature probably had a separate schedule for everyone and everything; trees, critters... even a couple of foolish young college kids. In a vaguely reassuring way, it felt as if the numerous changes that had occurred between himself and Marcy over these past months had all been running to some elegant, natural timetable. Yet it was hard to reconcile that idea with the fact that nothing about the past seven months had been planned.

Even the very beginning, the moment that had upended his entire life, had come without any warning. Nobody could've predicted what was about to happen, even a mere fifteen minutes beforehand.

-----

By all accounts, itshould've been a relatively uneventful evening. Dan had invited ten friends over to his house for a cordial gathering; ten grounded, sensible people he could count on to not turn the evening into a shambolic, beer-drenched frat party.

Paul had been surprised to discover that Marcy was there, but her boyfriend, Jeff, wasn't. Dan whispered in Paul's ear that Marcy and Jeff had broken up.

Jeff and Marcy were well known for their fierce quarrels. It was a routine spectacle on campus to see them storming off in opposite directions with scowls on their faces. But they would always get back together and make up, usually very loudly.

But apparently, their latest fight had been a real doozy, and it seemed like they had really broken up for good this time.

It hadn't surprised Paul that their volatile relationship had finally fallen apart. But he was amazed by how at ease Marcy appeared to be, so soon after her breakup.

A conversation brewed up in the house's spacious living room. Various people joined in and left as time passed. Eventually, it dwindled down to just Paul and Marcy.

Ever since that night, he was able to picture her with crystal clarity, sitting on that L-shaped sofa, a good, respectable two or three body widths apart from him. He could picture the long, dark brown hair with the slightest hint of frizz, cascading over her shoulders. He could picture the sensuous movement of her full, pink lips as she spoke, and the glimmer where her feminine hazel eyes reflected the ceiling lights. He could picture her simple-yet-stylish black sweater, and the coarse, rich blue denim of her figure-fitting jeans.

But for the life of him, Paul could not recall a single word of the conversation they had shared on that sofa.

He had tried so hard, in the intervening months, to remember what had been said between them; as if remembering the conversation would somehow help him to make sense of everything else that followed. But no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to recall even the general subject of their discussion.

All he could remember was that, at some point, Marcy began flaunting her sexuality. Very gently - perhaps even accidentally, at first; but soon enough, with skillful potency.

He suddenly became very aware of the way her large breasts filled out her sweater. He had known Marcy for years, and she had never been shy about her voluptuous bust. But he had never looked at her body with such fixation before.

He remembered believing that they were simply playing a foolish game with one another, with all their subconscious signals and coy comments; a game more frustrating than fun, as far as he was concerned. Until the corner of Marcy's mouth twitched briefly into an odd smirk. In retrospect, Paul concluded that must've been the moment she'd decided, "What the hell?"

She turned to him with a smile and said, "Hey, why don't you come with me? I wanna show you something!"

He realized right then and there that they hadn't been playing a silly little game at all; they had beennegotiating for actual sex! Yet despite this stunning turn of events, Paul agreed without hesitation. In fact, he never gave what he was about to do a second thought.

He got up and followed her, in a nonchalant procession to the second floor.

Back in those days, Paul was still deeply caught up in his longstanding, unrequited crush upon his high school dreamboat, Karen. Normally, he was constantly tormented by the fact that Karen didn't return his feelings for her. But as he made that journey with Marcy, up to an implied round of casual sex, Karen never once entered his mind. It was as if she had never existed.

When they reached the door of the master bedroom, Marcy quickly checked both ends of the hallway to ensure they wouldn't be seen. The entire floor seemed quiet; it felt like they were the only two up there. Nonetheless, Paul's heart was racing with apprehension.

"Okay," Marcy quietly signaled as she opened the door and smoothly slipped inside.

With a deep, nervous sigh, Paul followed. He rushed through the tight gap in the doorway, into the stylish, well-kept modern bedroom on the other side. He immediately spun around to close the door behind him. He tried to do it with perfect silence, as Marcy had managed when she entered the room. But his hand was trembling with nerves and he rattled the door against its frame as he brought it home. The noise was only soft - almost certainly inaudible to the rest of the household, but it still put a lump in Paul's throat.

He sighed again, a little shallower than before, as he stared at the well-finished wood grain of the door four inches from his face. He hesitated a moment before he turned back around, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what was about to happen next. Of course, he knew there was going to be sex; but with nothing more than that vague assumption to guide him, Paul felt as if he was heading in to a situation he was totally unprepared for.

He turned. But he didn't even get a chance to take stock of his surroundings before Marcy's lips lunged upon his own. Her brazen advance would have banged his head against the door, if not for the hand she had slipped behind it, which cushioned the impact.

The austere silence of the room amplified the soft sounds of their foreplay; the moist smacking sounds of their lips working against one another, and the increasingly heavy breath rushing through their nostrils. Almost immediately, Marcy began dry-humping him through their jeans, with unambiguous, rhythmic thrusts of her hips.

Paul's arms were frozen, well away from Marcy's body, as if he were trying to grapple with some nonexistent sumo wrestler. Eventually, his shock began to subside and instinct began to take over. One hand closed around her upper torso to secure her hot body firmly against his own. The other began to fumble its way around her back, until Paul suddenly realized it was resting upon her ass. For a split second, he was actually embarrassed. But then he realized that they were well past the point where feeling up her ass was acceptable; in fact, it was now practically obligatory.

He sank his fingers hard into the yielding form of her buttock. Holding her like that, literally in the palm of his hand, was a sobering reality check. That was the moment when it truly sank in that he was about to screw this horny and exceptionally sexy coed.

He began to reciprocate Marcy's passion in his kisses, and soon began to overshadow her, as he finally accepted that she was in that room with him for him to enjoy. She was a feast of seductive sensations: soft, yet stimulating kisses; a firm, fit, youthful body; and an immodest warmth radiating from her belly, which seemed to be growing ever hotter. But what he relished most of all was the anticipation of the pleasures yet to come.

His reverie was broken when he felt her coarse woolen sweater rising up between them, in a harsh, wrenching motion. It interrupted their kiss, but only for a split second. The next thing he knew, his jacket was being pulled from around his shoulders.

They continued hastily undressing. Paul caught a brief glimpse of her crimson bra, and noticed how taut its straps appeared under the weight of her sizable bust. By the time their next kiss was finished, the bra was gone.

Amid the hectic juggle between their stripping and foreplay, Paul had only a limited opportunity to pause and admire Marcy's bare breasts. But in that fleeting second, he observed every little detail, burning the image of Marcy topless into his memory like a Polaroid.

Her tits were even more magnificent than he ever could've imagined. With the removal of her clothes, the rest of her frame had become more petite, but her bulging tits appeared as large as ever. Their shape was utter perfection; two voluptuous shields perched majestically upon her ribs, with such youthful lift. Her peach-colored areolae were beautifully small for such large breasts, with subtle nipples that barely seemed to protrude at all. Paul marveled at the way Marcy's boobs jiggled and changed shape in response to her frantic movements, in a shameless demonstration of their suppleness.

The spectacle woke a sleeping dragon in his trousers. Though his cock had begun to size up during their make-out session, the sight of Marcy's incredible tits roused it to its full size in just a few seconds. Paul felt as if his nether regions were about to burst out of his clothing, like The Incredible Hulk.

Paul pounced upon Marcy for another kiss, as she peeled her jeans away from her ankles. He seized the opportunity to lay his hand upon one of her breasts and firmly fondle it. The smoothness of her skin was only surpassed by the heavenly softness of the flesh beneath it.

He melted into their kiss as warm rush of desire suddenly overwhelmed him. He suddenly felt light as a feather, without a care or thought in the world - save one: he wanted this woman.

No. Heneeded her!

He needed to taste her within his mouth, needed to test her blessed softness with the erogenous tip of his organ. He needed to be inside of her, to be completely surrounded by her hot, tender flesh. He needed to give himself to her, completely; give her absolutely everything he could possibly offer.

It became his sole purpose; the very essence of what defined him. There was nobody else,nothing else that mattered in the world. His entire life revolved around what he was about to do with this woman.

He felt impatient fingers tugging at the beltline of his jeans and efficiently releasing their buttons. Paul assisted her in peeling the trousers from his legs, but before he could finish, she had already carefully released his throbbing cock from his briefs. He felt those same frisky fingers wrapping around his shaft. Marcy gently stroked him back and forth a single time with her expert grasp. She definitely knew how to handle a man.

"Mmm... I guess this means you're ready," she playfully purred. Paul was lost for words.

With her hand wrapped around his penis, she pulled him over to the side of the bed. His briefs were still only halfway down his thighs. She pressed him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Paul hadn't realized that she'd already removed her panties until he found himself with a thick, brown landing strip of pubic hair right in front of his face.

Marcy gave him just enough time to completely remove his briefs and reorient himself to the foot of the bed before she climbed on to his lap.

A twinge of discomfort suddenly fell upon Paul; not strong enough to make him stop, but enough to curb his enthusiasm as he embraced her. He was surprised how swiftly they had gotten to this point. It was abundantly clear that they were about to start fucking very soon. Paul had assumed that a girl as'socially active' as Marcy would always carry protection with her, "just in case". Yet here he was, cradling her naked body against his own, and still not wearing a condom.

They kissed some more, but their need for air prevented them from keeping their lips locked for long.

Paul buried his face into her left breast and took as much of its supple mass into his mouth as he could fit. He'd ached to know what her breasts tasted like since he first laid eyes on them. They were delicious beyond his wildest dreams. Marcy combed her fingers roughly through his hair as she held him tightly against her chest. She turned her head towards the ceiling and growled at it with lusty, throaty breaths, as Paul suckled hungrily on her nipple.

Then, grasping his head firmly between her hands, she lifted his face and kissed him passionately two more times. Then she pushed him forcefully down on to the mattress, his head bouncing into the pillow, before she shifted her hips and mounted him.

Immediately, that bothersome little doubt in the back of his mind turned to serious concern.

"You don't use condoms?" he gasped in surprise. Even as he said the words, the point seemed moot. His naked penis was already deep inside the slick reaches of her sex. Bodily fluids had already passed between them. The thought stirred an unsettling chill in his gut.

"Don't worry," Marcy panted, already riding him in earnest, "I'm healthy."

Paul was too conflicted to know how to respond. Months later, he would spend a great deal of time reflecting on the war that raged within him at that time, and especially how it was won.

"This is really stupid!"

"But she's cool with it. That makes it okay, right?"

"What about STDs?"

"She said she's healthy. Besides, I'm already inside her - there's no point in worrying about it anymore."

"But if I cum inside her, she might get pregnant."

"She's not worried about getting pregnant, is she? As a matter of fact... She's not worried about anything at all right now, is she? Jesus, look at her! She's way too damn horny to give a shit about anything! She just wants to fuck! And damn, does she need it bad! Holy shit, that's really hot!"

"Hot... yeah, she's hot...But, we really should be using protection."

"But if she had a condom, she would've made me put it on before we got this far, wouldn't she? I don't have a condom! So what am I supposed to do? Make her stop?"

"No, no. I don't want to stop.But..."

"Holy shit, her pussy is amazing! Feel that! It's so smooth and tight! And the way it keeps moving... It's like heaven in there!"

"Yeah, it's wonderful! She's so hot and wet!My dick's in her wet pussy without a condom. Her juice is all over my urethra. What if she isn't healthy?"

"My cockhead is rubbing directly up against the soft insides of her pussy! I am actually feeling the most private bullseye of this 5-star babe with my horny cock! Nothing in-between us; I'm getting the 100% authentic experience here! This is the opportunity of a lifetime! Would I really be happier wondering what she felt like from behind a sheet of rubber?"

"...No."

"It's better without the condom."

"It's better without the condom."

His reluctance had been quashed within a matter of seconds. He emerged from his short-lived internal debate to discover he was grasping Marcy firmly by the waist, guiding and encouraging her spirited thrusting. He wanted her -needed her beyond any possibility of compromise. Every single part of him was determined to continue with what they were doing.

He was still aware that this wasunsafe sex, but that no longer deterred him. The risks were all "tomorrow" problems. Tonight, nothing was more important than having the best sex he could possibly have with this gorgeous woman: the pure experience - pussy against cock; Marcy uncensored. The consequences, whatever they would be, were justified, a hundred times over.

As he watched Marcy, Paul could see that she felt exactly the same way. Sheneeded this to happen, exactly the way it was. The flushed, dizzy expression of arousal upon her face, and the ferocious enthusiasm with which she rode his shaft said it all. Marcy had let her inner wild woman roam free for an evening, to live and fuck as a wild woman does.