Chapter 1: Keep Them Close

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.

 

Marcy cried out in terror as she sprang up from the cold, firm mattress. Her entire body was aquiver, her breath ragged as her eyes darted all around the rustic bedroom.

 

 She had just had the most awful nightmare. A mad dog had been chasing her through the woods. Before she was able to get to safety, it had pounced. The last thing she saw was that mouth full of sharp teeth lunging at her, before she awoke in the serenity of the cabin.

 

 It took her a moment to get her bearings; to sort the dream from reality. Then she remembered the bath she'd taken, in which she'd opened a huge, diseased wound in her leg while shaving it. Frantically, Marcy flipped on to her back and threw the off-white bed sheet off of the lower half of her body. She almost wept when she discovered that her calves were clean. She checked every inch of the skin for any blemish or rash, but it was all as flawless as ever.

 

 All the same, she was far from being safe, as she soon remembered. The disease *was* real, and considering her exposure to it, she probably was infected. Quarantined in a small shed nearby, her best friend, Karen, was dying from it.

 

 The dog from her nightmare was also real, roaming the surrounding forest, primed to lash out at anyone it didn't like the smell of. It just hadn't mauled her - yet.

 

 Marcy must've dozed off just after having sex with Paul; not surprisingly. She'd been so restless the previous night that she barely got three hours of broken sleep and her fling with Paul had been one exhausting fuck. She'd held nothing back; taking him with a series of rapid, powerful thrusts until well after her thighs were screaming for rest. She pushed herself to make it a damn good screw, because she knew it was probably gonna be her last.

 

 Her lover was nowhere to be seen. He must've slipped away while she was dozing. Marcy wondered how far he had wandered. Was he still in the cabin? Had he gone out to the shed to check on Karen? Or had he gone off into the forest?

 

 Looking out the bedroom window, Marcy saw a bush rustling.

 

 "It might be the dog," she thought to herself. She shivered as she remembered what it had done to her in her nightmare.

 

 She turned away from the window, afraid of having her fear confirmed. With a sorrowful sigh, she climbed out of the bed. She didn't bother to put any clothes on. The air was a little brisk but she just couldn't be bothered.

 

 She left the bedroom and visited the nearby bathroom. Part of her mind was still muddled between the nightmare and reality. She remembered finding nasty red marks on her back where Paul had squeezed her while they were going at it, but she couldn't remember whether or not it was real. These were the first symptoms of her sickness and by the end of her nightmare, they'd become rotten pits.

 

 Anxiously, she turned her back to the bathroom mirror to examine it. She could barely believe it, but there were no suspect marks back there at all. It was a relief, but even with the rot in her back cast away with all the other horrors of her nightmare, her situation was no less dire.

 

 Forlorn, she left the bathroom with no clear destination in mind. As she stepped out into the hallway, she noticed Paul for the first time. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he was sitting silently at the small table across from the kitchenette, staring out the window and seemingly lost in thought.

 

 In her nightmare, she'd caught Paul trying to sneak out of the cabin. She confronted him, but she wasn't able to stop him from leaving. That was where it all started to go wrong. She was left all alone and vulnerable. Her body quickly decayed afterwards and with no-one around to help her, she was easily caught and killed by the mad dog.

 

 Now, it all seemed almost like a warning. If Paul abandoned her like her boyfriend Jeff had, she'd be too vulnerable. They'd be much stronger sticking together; watching each other's back. But judging by the way Paul's gaze was fixed out that window, Marcy got the sense that Paul had different ideas.

 

 Was he staring at the dusty trail leading back to civilization, all those miles away? Perhaps figuring that it would be better to try making the long trek on foot, rather than wasting away in a cabin, waiting for help that mightn't even be coming?

 

 Or was he staring at the weathered old tool shed where Karen layed at death's door? Paul loved Karen, Marcy was well aware. He had since they were kids. He'd always been too coy to make a move on her, though. Marcy had easily charmed Paul's manly urges earlier. But now that his passion had run its course, was he filled with regret for what they'd done? Regret for 'cheating' on the girl he loved, while she lay dying no less?

 

 Either way, whatever he was thinking wasn't good. Not for Marcy.

 

 She needed to keep him here where he could protect her, before he sucked up the will to get up and leave her to her doom. She knew just how to do it, too: she'd seduce him again. There would be no way of reasoning with him to stick around. Nothing she could say would be compelling enough to accomplish that. But Marcy had more sexiness in one of her long, athletic legs than most women have in their entire bodies. She was pretty in almost an exotic sense. Her breasts were large, natural and astonishingly pert for their size. Her ass was firm and shapely and between them her slender waist completed a perfect hourglass figure. She was a wet dream come to life for a guy like Paul, and she damn well knew it. Once she got him hard again, he'd *need* to be with her.

 

 Marcy stepped out into the main living area of the cabin. With a subtle, "Hmmm..." she caught Paul's attention. Even though he was clearly making a conscious stand to try to ignore her - to try not to acknowledge his mistake, he couldn't help but gawk at her naked glory for a second.

 

 "Hey," Marcy greeted in an oddly casual voice.

 

 Noticeably avoiding eye contact, Paul opened his mouth as if to respond but had nothing to say to her. Without a word, he turned his head to gaze back out the window.

 

 Unfazed, Marcy strolled calmly over towards the table and sat down on the seat beside him. Her arms were straight by her sides, with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wanted to make sure Paul had an unobstructed view of her ample tits as they were by far her main selling point. Now, she was grateful for the bite in the air as the chill actually tightened her skin and made them look even firmer.

 

 She matched his gaze, staring out the window rather than at him so as not to seem pushy. He was already reluctant. If she came on too strong she might drive him away.

 

 "That was... that was good," Marcy remarked with an air of pleasant surprise. "Better than I expected. I came pretty hard. I passed out," she remarked with a light chuckle. "Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you."

 

 *That* caught Paul's full attention. He instantly turned to her with a look of shock. No man could ever shrug off a jibe at his sexual ability. Paul's reaction was practically a reflex action. Marcy all but had Paul in the palm of her hand now. His male ego wouldn't allow him to back down from any opportunity she offered to prove himself.

 

 "Oh, no offense," Marcy clarified after a taunting pause, pretending as if she'd only just noticed the sharp look of offence in Paul's eyes. "It's just that I've always gotten the impression that you weren't... very experienced," she shrugged.

 

 He broke eye contact and his gaze sunk in shame, all but confirming that his list of sexual conquests was woefully short. Marcy was tapping her tented fingers together and the motion caught his eye, drawing his gaze right on to her crotch - the silken valley that had caught his gushing seed only minutes earlier.

 

 "That's okay," she casually brushed off his silent confession. "I had a good time. You're certainly big enough," she complimented. Truthfully, she had been pleasantly surprised by Paul's size. He filled her very well, which was probably why she'd been able to get off so easily on him. "...It was real exciting. And I liked your energy."

 

 Marcy's compliments seemed to disturb him even more than her light jibes to his manliness. He turned to look out the window again, making a clear effort to ignore her.

 

 "Hey Paul?" Marcy eventually said, ending an increasingly awkward silence. With an exasperated huff he turned to face her once more. "What do you say we quit fucking around and just do it again?" she asked in a dead-serious tone.

 

 "Look, Marcy..." Paul began to protest. Again he was distracted by the motions of her fingers, which were now gently stroking her bush back and forth, all the way down to her clit.

 

 "We can sit here in silence because neither one of us wants to talk about what's happened. We can go off into separate corners, try to ignore each other and just go nuts worrying by ourselves. Or we can have sex and enjoy each other's company," Marcy reasoned. "Well, I know which one's the obvious choice and I don't want to waste any more time acting like I don't."

 

 Paul was still reluctant, but Marcy's reasoning gave him a moment of pause.

 

 "Your little friend doesn't seem to think it's such a bad idea," Marcy noted, eyeing off the rapidly growing bulge in his jeans.

 

 Paul grimaced, betraying the tense internal conflict within. His common sense told him to get up and leave. But his cock wanted her.

 

 With calm, sensual grace, Marcy leaned over and finished the battle with a single, soft kiss upon his lips. This was precisely how she'd gotten him on board for their earlier indiscretion: just one or two inviting kisses from her warm lips and Paul's hormones were in control, making sex inevitable. This time, it was even easier, because she'd already been teasing him for some time with the sight of her naked body.

 

 She kissed him again and again as Paul sank back into the seat with surrender. The kisses were soft, yet serious; like the way a chaste 1950s high school girl would've kissed her beau. Each one filled Paul with ten times more anticipation than it did pleasure.

 

 Marcy's hand found the tent in his jeans and carefully caressed it, making it rapidly grow to the limits of what the denim could contain.

 

 Life returned to the limp arm that hung by Paul's side. It rose to explore the curvature of her waist and briefly grasp the yielding flesh of her right buttock before it dropped beyond his reach.

 

 Marcy kneeled before Paul and tended to the brass button and zip of his jeans. His erect member immediately sprang from the opening, as if it had been suffocating inside and desperate for release. With a couple of quick, assertive tugs to the beltline, Marcy pulled the jeans off of Paul's thighs, allowing them to drop easily past his knees.

 

 Then she wrapped her experienced fingers around his cock and began to work it, treating the sensitive organ with all the tenderness it deserved. But her hand had barely massaged Paul's manhood three times before it left him and her mouth took its place. Marcy simultaneously lapped his exposed cockhead from base to tip with her tongue while her lips enveloped it and sealed around the shaft.

 

 "Jeez... Oh shit!" Paul gasped as Marcy's attentions made him shudder in seemingly random bursts of excitement. Between his legs all he could see was her comely mane of long brown hair, bouncing up and down in a rhythmic cycle of maddening quick thrusts and deliciously slow ones. Beyond, he had a clear view right down her smooth, tanned back, ending with the shapely twin bulges of her ass.

 

 As she sucked him off, Marcy was vigorously rubbing her snatch, relishing the thought of Paul's impressive rod filling the lusty void inside her.

 

 Once Marcy was satisfied that Paul's cock couldn't get any harder, she removed her mouth and began teasingly kissing her way up his body as she rose from the floor. She engaged him once again in some kisses on the mouth as she straddled his lap and pressed her hips against him, sandwiching his erection between their bodies. This time the kisses were open-mouthed and far more passionate. Her wetness dripped on to his balls as her mons writhed against his cock, teasing them both with the prospect of plunging it deep into her hot fissure. Then she raised her hips and guided his shaft with her hand as she descended. He was inside her.

 

 As Marcy gently rocked her hips back and forth, Paul buried his face in her superb rack. Her boobs yielded against his face like fresh pizza dough. Oh, how he'd wanted Marcy's tits ever since their previous fuck; wanted to hold them, wanted to play with them, wanted to taste them, wanted to know them as intimately as could be.

 

 His blood had dropped to his crotch like a ton of bricks when Marcy had first removed her bra in front of him. Her sexy proportions had always been apparent, but nothing could've prepared him for the actual sight of her incredible tits. They were like nothing he'd ever seen in porn. Each was a generous handful and then some. He'd seen larger boobs, but none that even came close in terms of pertness. Despite their size, they had barely any crease on their underside; sitting proudly upon her chest like marble sculptures. Even though Marcy had a definite vain side to her personality, Paul had quickly learned that those mouth-watering love pillows weren't the work of a cosmetic surgeon; they were 100% woman.

 

 Yet he'd barely gotten a few seconds to acquaint himself with those sweet mounds earlier. A brief fondle was all he got before Marcy had him pinned down on the bed. He was forced to watch longingly as they jiggled and shook mere inches from his face, while she rode him to their mutual orgasm.

 

 Now... now was his chance to finally enjoy these tits. Nuzzling became kissing and kissing eventually became suckling. He adored her right breast with his mouth, while exploring the left with his hand. Marcy, who had been stroking Paul's hair, held his head to her bosom with growing insistence, as her nipples grew hard and her breasts tingled with arousal. Her gyrations intensified in response, while she stimulated her clit manually for maximum pleasure.

 

 The solid hunk of man-meat inside her was a sheer delight as it shifted within; stroking her, parting her, probing her most erogenous place over and over. Making her feel alive.

 

 Paul's titty-play grew more primal. He kissed/suckled her with more and more ambitious mouthfuls. He began softly scratching the surface of her breast with his teeth and flicking her erect nipple with his tongue, much to Marcy's pleasure. Even the hot breath he snorted upon her breast excited her a little.

 

 His timid exploration of her other tit had evolved into a firm massage. The erection of her nipple seemed to make it a point of interest for Paul's fingers and they spent a lot of time touching and rubbing it.

 

 The hand that had been holding the small of her back for support slipped down on to her butt and guided her coital motions with a tight grasp.

 

 Marcy's back-and-forth gyrations soon became a lively cycle of up-and-down thrusts. Her teasing assault upon her own clit became almost manic as she raced to beat Paul to the immanent climax. Her panting became precipitous moans.

 

 In the last moments of their carnal heaves, Paul's lips slipped from Marcy's boob and he nuzzled into it once more, moaning uncontrollably.

 

 Then, in an instant, he pulled her hips down and pinned them there with an unshakable grasp. His own hips bucked upwards to force his shaft in as deep as possible. His loins pounded viciously as Marcy's womanhood was flooded with Paul's sperm. The shockwaves went right through him, robbing him of his strength until he thought he would black out.

 

 "Shit, shit, shit..." Marcy whimpered as she hurried to find sweet release before Paul's throbbing organ began to soften. Taking no time to savor the pre-emptive tingle, she kept masturbating until her pussy spasmed, hard. Paul's hot load was still in full flow.

 

 "Oh fuck, yeah. Oh fuck, yeah," she softly panted, as the ecstasy washed through her like a drug in her bloodstream. It was a perfect instant, with no disease or killer dog, no grief or guilt from selfish indulgence. No sense of time - no future full of awful likelihoods or consequences of bad choices. Just the blissful insanity of hot sex. Her body was like a knot tightened around the most wonderful thing conceivable: rock-hard maleness; and there was no world beyond that coital union.

 

 But all too quickly the climax burnt itself out and suddenly the disease was in her world again, as was the killer dog and the unsettling emptiness and quiet of the cabin. Yet she was also aware of the warm body beneath her, who, like herself, was numbed with post-coital contentment. She didn't feel as lonely as she had before. Marcy rested her heavy head on Paul's shoulder. With what little strength they could muster, Paul's arms rose to embrace her and hold her close.

 

 They rested there together, with Paul's flaccid cock still inside Marcy's quivering sex and caught their breath in near silence.

 

 Many minutes later, Marcy left Paul's embrace and he made no attempt to keep her. She slid down on to the floorboards. Gently parting his legs with her hands she leaned in and slowly cleaned his wet dick with her mouth. For a brief moment their eyes met as Paul gazed down at her with an incredulous stare. He couldn't believe the treatment he was receiving.

 

 She licked and sucked every inch of Paul's cock until she'd removed every trace of their mixed fluids. Then she cleaned it again, and again, and again. Paul simply relaxed and lazily stroked her hair as the last shreds of his will to resist left him for good.

 

 Marcy began to tenderly fondle his scrotum with her hand as she continued fellating him. Had her mouth not been full, she would've smiled at her victory. She may have been kneeling before him, but that didn't matter because she was also the one who had him by the balls.