Need A Little Company Ch 07

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the movies or characters from the "Cabin Fever" franchise. All "Cabin Fever" movies and their characters belong to their respective owners. I don't make any money from the writing of this story.

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Up until this moment, Marcy had considered this motel room a temporary sanctuary, where the problems and sorrows of her life couldn't plague her. So she was surprised to actually feel the immense weight of the prospect of a full-term pregnancy lift from her shoulders. She felt wonderful.

She looked down at Paul with an ear-to-ear grin frozen on her face.

"I'm *really* glad you came tonight," she reiterated at barely a whisper. Paul didn't react; he probably didn't hear her.

She looked past his shifting head and noticed that he was still sporting a furious erection. Marcy was surprised that in all this time of being aroused, he hadn't made even the slightest advance towards her pussy. He was utterly preoccupied with her jugs.

"He must have a major breast fetish!" she thought to herself.

"Having fun?" Marcy asked him in a dry tone.

Paul responded only with hearty a moan that was muffled by the nipple in his mouth and the swelling breast a quarter inch from his nostrils. He sounded like he was drunk with pleasure.

"I think someone's feeling a little left out," Marcy noted, peering down once again at his impressive rod.

Noticing Marcy's gaze, Paul pulled himself away from her boobs long enough to look down and acknowledge his excited maleness.

"He doesn't mind watching," Paul joked.

"You wanna fuck 'em?" Marcy asked him in a warm voice.

"Seriously?" Paul asked her, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Marcy nodded softly.

"Fuck, yeah!" he replied.

"Okay," Marcy agreed. Paul wasn't to know, but Marcy felt immeasurable gratitude for his helpful counsel tonight, and she was very eager to express it.

She rolled away from him and sat up, while Paul repositioned himself so that he was laying on his back, with his head comfortably resting on a pillow. Marcy straddled his calves and Paul admired the view with a dumb grin as she gathered her boobs together and spit a couple of mouthfuls of saliva into her cleavage for lubrication. She jiggled them up and down against each other a little, trying to coat as much of their inside surfaces as possible.

When they were ready, she leaned over and positioned her chest directly over Paul's crotch. Her jiggling mammaries playfully slapped his rod a couple of times as she got comfortable. Seconds later, she mashed her breasts together to form a tight crevice of supple feminine flesh, making sure that Paul's manhood was caught right in the middle of it.

She began to shift her whole body back and forth to massage his shaft. Paul let his head sink in to the pillow and sighed loudly. Having Marcy's tits in his mouth and rubbing against his face was sublime, but having them rub against his dick was a sensation like no other. They were perfect womanhood and now they were finally being tasted by the organ that had the most discerning appreciation of such things.

Paul opened his eyes and was met with a bedroom gaze from Marcy. He neither understood nor cared for the reasons behind this change in her attitude, he was simply grateful for it.

As enjoyable as Marcy's performance was, the head of Paul's dick spent most of its time peeking out beyond the top of her cleavage. Each time they passed it by, he could feel the very tip of his penis aching more and more to know the sweet softness of those pillows.

"Hey, let me poke right in to them. Just push it right in to the tit," Paul requested.

Marcy obliged. She released her tight cleavage and tenderly held his cock upright with her hand. Then she slowly lowed her freely-hanging right boob on to his cockhead and let its flesh collapse around him.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's great," Paul acknowledged.

Marcy moved so that Paul's dick traced a firmly-pressed line from the right side of the boob all the way to the left.

"Jesus Christ! Oh my god, you're incredible!" Paul loudly uttered as her boob flesh rolled over his cockhead.

With a satisfied smirk, Marcy guided his rod across her left breast in a similar fashion. She experimented a little in this vein, seeking out the fleshiest parts of her breasts with his tip, before resuming her cleavage-masturbation of his shaft. She didn't want to over stimulate him. This time though, she took care to make sure his cockhead spent more time between her boobs.

Again, she switched it up by stroking his tip along her mounds.

"Have you done the nipples? I wanna try the nipples," Paul requested.

Marcy silently obeyed, guiding his sex over to her left nipple and pressing it in deeply. Shifting her weight around in a subtle circular motion, she rolled her nipple and the surrounding areola back and forth against his sensitive tip. The sensation of that stiff nipple brushing against him sent shivers through his body.

Marcy sought to tease him a little by stroking his dick around the underside of her left boob in a broad 'smile-shaped' course, before letting him probe her other nipple. But before she could finish the teasing manoeuvre he exploded in spectacular fashion.

Heavy spurts of pale cum blasted up into her cleavage, much of it hitting her square in the breastbone , or on the inner side of her right tit. Though the initial blast had largely struck the underside of the boob she'd been teasing him with. His maleness bucked like a metronome in time with each discharge.

Paul made a sound that could best be described as a strenuous growl. He grabbed the quilt beneath him and squeezed it with an iron grasp as Marcy's prefect breasts brought him to the most powerful orgasm of his life.

"Oh... my... god!" Marcy chuckled in shock as she slowly drew away from his gushing organ. She could feel the hot, viscous kiss of Paul's seed all over her chest.

"Oh! Oh fuck, Paul!" she said with a mild hint of disgust in her voice, as she sat up and surveyed the mess.

The last of Paul's load drizzled weakly on to his belly, his spent cock twitching like it was having an epileptic fit.

"Shit! You could've warned me!" Marcy chided him in a good-humored tone that betrayed her sore words. "You are so gonna pay for that!"

"Hmm, let me see," Paul said in a half-asleep murmur. Somehow, he summoned the strength to pry his eyes open just enough to clearly make out the shapely naked sex goddess kneeling over him. She shot him a stern expression and gestured towards her chest with her hands. Marcy's right breast with a huge splatter of his jizz upon it was truly a beautiful sight.

"Totally worth it," Paul decided aloud. A broad grin of self-satisfaction washed over his face.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Marcy told him in a mock-threatening tone as she climbed off the bed. "I'm not kidding, Paul, you're gonna pay me back for that!"

"Okay," Paul agreed in an inattentive tone. He closed his eyes.

Marcy headed for the bathroom.

"Seriously, Paul, if you're asleep when I come back, I *will* slap you," she warned Paul. Though her tone was still playful, there was no doubt she was deadly serious about the last part.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Paul assured her.

The bathroom light was already on when she entered. Probably because it was wired into the same switch as the fan, which Paul had probably left on to draw out the steam from their shower.

She took a small white hand towel from one of the towel racks and ran it under the sink, adjusting the faucets so that the water was comfortably warm. She wrung most of the water out of the towel before vigorously wiping it over the messiest areas of her bust.

She muttered quiet words of irritation as she cleaned herself. She hadn't exactly begun the tittyfuck with a plan for where it would go, but she was shocked when it came to such an abrupt end. She had hoped that things would progress in a way that allowed her to get a little pleasure from the encounter. But alas, it was not to be. Getting covered in Paul's cum wasn't exactly a fun consolation prize, either.

She had to rinse the towel several times, but eventually she believed that she'd cleaned herself off. She gave her whole chest a brisk once-over to remove any lingering traces of semen that might remain. The last thing she wanted was to feel 'sticky' when the water dried.

After rinsing and wringing out the towel one final time, Marcy studied her breasts in the mirror, making sure there were no stray globs of cum that she'd missed. She admired them for a moment, moving her shoulders around to change their shape.

"You can't blame the guy," she thought proudly to herself. They were a very sexy pair; it was no wonder Paul couldn't contain himself.

She took a step back and admired her body as a whole. A delighted smile grew on her face: a silent celebration of the fact that the enviable hourglass form she was gazing upon would remain this way for many, many years to come, now that she wouldn't be having the baby.

With a sigh of relief, she turned and left the room, switching off the light/fan as she left.

She found Paul just were she had left him, laying on the bed with his eyes closed. He looked like he was asleep and for a moment Marcy thought she would have to make good on her earlier threat. Much to her relief, he opened his eyes and stared at her as she came closer to the bed. Considering how beneficial his company had been tonight, she hated the idea of having to slap him. But nonetheless, tonight was all about cutting loose and having fun, not about giving some guy a free ride.

"Here," she said, tossing him the moist towel which she had brought with her out of the bathroom. "You can clean yourself up."

Paul wiped away the small pool of semen on his belly, then proceeded to gently clean the length of his penis, which was now almost completely flaccid.

When he was finished he looked around for somewhere convenient to leave the towel.

"Just toss it anywhere," Marcy offered as she climbed back on to the foot end of the bed.

With a shrug, Paul lightly discarded the towel on to the floor beside him.

Marcy sat on the far corner of the bed to Paul, her legs spread wide before him.

"Okay, now it's your turn," she told him.

Without any further prompting, Paul sat up and crawled over to her. He laid down on his belly, with his face right up against her glistening sex.

Marcy gazed down at him with a smile of anticipation. For her, this was the culmination of the arousal Paul had stirred up when he first began suckling on her breasts.

Her breath grew deeper and her smile broadened as Paul began stroking her clit with his tongue.

He remembered all her guidance from before, leaving Marcy free to simply enjoy the ride without having to captain the ship. Paul was savvy enough to keep changing up his tactics. He employed the 'alphabet trick' as before, but only for four or five letters at a time before switching to a brisk flutter or a quick set of laps spiralling out across her clit.

Occasionally he would substitute his lively tongue with a passionate kiss to her erogenous bud, massaging it on all sides simultaneously with his writhing lips. During one such kiss, he experimented by applying a little suction. He took the sharp little peep she made at that moment as a sign of encouragement.

Eventually Marcy's heart was pounding like a drum. What began as a desire was now a need in her searing hot loins. Paul's efforts hadn't waned in the slightest since the first caress of his tongue and, assuming he didn't bail out prematurely, Marcy was content that he would bring her to a marvelous climax.

She laid back, her shoulders and head hanging out beyond the edge of the mattress. As Paul continued teasing her, she tilted her head right back and stared at her upside-down view of the room. The incomprehensible sight, the weird inner ear sensation and the erratic activity upon her privates made for a surreal experience.

Marcy made a series of sharp sighs as she surrendered herself to the pleasure brewing in her crotch. Then in an instant the escape she sought shot through her with a vengeance. She silently lurched upwards. Then she began to fill the air with a series of breathy moans that betrayed the wonderful madness of her experience.

Paul relished the spectacle before him and maintained his assault upon Marcy's nub without any hesitation. In a way, he drew satisfaction from the knowledge that he had given Marcy such pleasure. But more than that, he was excited by the power he now held over her. Marcy: the cool, indifferent manipulator, who had effortlessly made him a puppet of her own convenience with her physical wiles, was completely helpless.

Her arms began to shudder manically across the mattress like an animal in its death throes. Her thighs suddenly jolted into a vice-like stance around his head, but seemed to lack the strength to apply any real pressure upon him. Gazing forward, Paul was treated to the sight of Marcy's prominent bosom rising and falling at an industrious pace. Her breaths became audibly shallower and her moans of satisfaction transitioned seamlessly into agonized whimpers and then eventually, loud wild cries. Marcy's reaction was so intense that part of Paul wondered if she would actually break if subjected to much more of this. But even that thought didn't give him pause. He could've happily teased her clit until judgement day; the harder she came, the more he enjoyed it.

Suddenly, her cries became uneven and Paul thought for a moment that some of the noises she was making almost bore a semblance to words.

"N... No," he though he heard her utter. "No! No!" came a far more coherent protest a moment later.

One of her quivering arms leapt into action, collapsing at first on to her belly during a paralysing surge of orgasm, before managing to make it on to Paul's forehead. With what little strength and control she could muster, she tried to push him away from her pussy.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" she desperately gasped.

Paul backed away an inch. For a moment he considered ignoring her pleas, as watching Marcy in this state was just too much fun. But ultimately his sense of decency won and he decided to leave her be. While he couldn't fully empathize with what he'd just witnessed, he felt that there was some degree of agony mixed in with the ecstasy that had consumed her, and that continuing to inflict those sensations upon her for his own gratification may have been more sinister than one would assume.

All the same, he was quite pleased with the amount of fun that he'd had. He hadn't even noticed until now just how much his own heart was racing.

Still excited, still hungry for her, Paul dove back upon her crotch but this time mouthed her neat bush of dark brown hair. He bared his teeth, coursing them across the hairs, before planting a slow kiss upon the mound they covered.

He crawled forward, planting long adoring kisses upon her mons, belly and ribs, advancing no more than two inches from the site of his last kiss. For Paul, the journey was so idyllic and sensual it felt like a dream. Had he not been so committed to his self-imposed pledge to just enjoy himself tonight, he would've lamented that these few hours they had together were far too short a time to properly acquaint himself with such a gorgeous body.

Eventually, his meticulous pilgrimage reached the summit of Marcy's right breast . Once again, he indulged his insatiable lust for her tits by suckling upon her intently. Though Paul had taken his time getting there, Marcy's chest was still heaving in the aftermath of the powerful set of orgasms he had given her. In every other regard, she was absolutely limp.

Many minutes passed before Marcy's breathing completely relaxed. Many more minutes past before she showed some stirrings of life. She raised her right arm and gently brushed Paul's hair for a moment. He didn't seem to notice.

"Paul?" she said at barely more than a whisper.

"Hmm?" Paul mumbled with a mouth full of boob. It took him a few seconds before he could bring himself to pull himself away from the supple treasure and give Marcy his full attention.

"I want to go to bed," she told him, sounding utterly exhausted.

With a forlorn look, Paul climbed off of her and even gave her a hand up. Marcy gathered up the white robe and towel she'd worn out of the bathroom and briskly folded them.

"Could you get the light?" she asked Paul, nodding towards a switch right beside the door.

Paul obliged, climbing off the bed and heading toward the door while Marcy took the bath wear articles and placed them on the counter opposite the bed. Along the way, Paul retrieved the hand towel they'd used to mop up his spunk and, after switching off the main ceiling light, walked over and placed it atop the other articles of dirty laundry.

The room was now only illuminated by the intermittent bluish-white glow of the television. Marcy pulled back the bed cover and quilt, rearranged her pillow, then crawled into the bed. She laid propped up, her tits exposed, while she watched Paul wander around the far side of the bed to take his place beside her.

Paul peered over at her as nonchalantly as he could, taking one final look at those breathtaking bulges before they disappeared beneath the bedsheets for the night; and almost certainly the rest of his life.

As he pulled back the covers and slid into the bed, Paul found himself in an awkward predicament for the first time since this all-too-casual meeting began. Where exactly in the bed was he meant to sleep? Despite the numerous sex acts they engaged in together, the idea of cuddling up to Marcy to go to sleep didn't feel right to Paul. They weren't close and there was certainly no romance between them. The fucking had felt disturbingly natural to him, but cozying up to her in a non-sexual way just wasn't who he was ; it wasn't who *they* were.

On the other hand leaving too much distance could come off as being cold, which he didn't want either.

He anxiously settled on a position that was about halfway between Marcy and the edge of the bed. There was significant distance still between them, but if Marcy didn't like that, it would be nothing for her to slide over to meet him. Essentially he left the ball in her court.

Once Paul seemed settled, Marcy leaned over toward the nightstand, but then stopped as a thought occurred to her.

"You don't want the TV, do you?" she asked him. She made a genuine effort to seem impartial, but Paul could tell that she would've found the sound of it nattering away to be a nuisance.

"No," he answered plainly. In truth, he hadn't been following the shows that had been on and wasn't even familiar with the one on at the moment.

Marcy grabbed the remote from the nightstand beside her and, after studying it in the dim light for a second, found the power button and turned the TV off. Instantly the room descended into pitch blackness and utter silence, broken only momentarily by the sound of the solid remote and nightstand connecting.

There were a few audible exhales, the shuffling of linen and the creak of a bedspring as both illicit lovers made themselves comfortable.

Paul sighed deeply in disappointment. He felt tired, but he wasn't entirely done for the evening. Sucking on her tit for those many minutes had put him back in the mood for her womanly pleasures. Unfortunately, he got the distinct impression that Marcy was spent for the night.

Reminding himself of the "no rules; just do what you feel like" spirit of the evening, Paul decided to make a move on her. If she pushed him away, that would be the end of it.

But before he got the chance, Marcy was on top of him.

As her seductive warmth smothered the entire left side of his body, he felt her lips brushing hesitantly around the side of his face. It wasn't like they were being shy - more like they were testing, trying to navigate his face exclusively by feel. Eventually, they found Paul's lips and locked tightly upon them. Her tongue ventured confidently into his mouth and coaxed his own to join it in a spirited game of tag.