He moves his hands down onto my ass and holds me tight and then lifts me slightly by my butt. My feet leave the floor and I lift my legs to either side of him, sort of wrap them around his hip. His cock, that I'm now holding again, is right at my pussy. I think my moves were almost involuntary, sort of brought on by my strong need for sex, because in a second, his cock is moving up into me. Actually, I'm lowering myself onto it. He steps forward a little, the wet curtain is on my back and then I can feel my back against the wall. He's leaning against me, pressing me to the wall and using his legs and hips to fuck me, pushing his gorgeous cock up into me over and over and over.
I'm amazed we didn't rip the curtain off its ring but I wasn't thinking of that as he fucked me. He didn't last long and came, I could feel him shooting into me. I remember being glad that I'd continued taking my birth control pills all through the trip, out of habit more than out of need. At least until now. We came apart, my feet back on the floor. We actually washed a little bit but not much, turned off the water and toweled off. We never said a word, other than moaning and huffing as we fucked.
I think we then went into a sex frenzy, wanting each other so much. On the bed, I sucked him until he was hard again and we fucked again. I used the bidet and he watched me. We played around feeling each other, he seemed to love the taste of my nipples almost as much as the taste of my pussy, and we fucked again. Fucked for a long time. We lost all track of time. And then someone was pounding on our door. We got something on quickly. It was the guide. The balloon had crashed. Six people were dead, including our parents and another couple on our tour.
It ended up that we had to stay there while the government handled things. Meantime, our guide and the other tourists moved on. We got moved to a little village that was next to where the balloon crashed. We seemed to need to be in the legal area where the accident happened. We're the only Americans there. A few days later some others arrived, relatives of the others that were killed. But we spent three days and nights in a private home, sharing a bedroom. I think they figured we were married, since we had the same last name.
They guy that owned the house spoke English. No one else did. He was apparently either our guide's relative or an associate somehow. He helped us tremendously through some sort of court hearing and then getting all the paper work and legal stuff handled.
It was considered a nice home in that village but it was a very old place, low ceilings, small rooms. I think maybe the walls were mud, I didn't touch them much if I could avoid it. The food was strange. The people were nice, they meant well. But we didn't speak their language and they didn't speak ours The bed clothes were clean, the clothing was clean but the whole little village was dirty. I think the toilet just fed into a tank or something. Some places still had outhouses.
Brian and I had nothing else to do but have sex a lot. I sucked him a lot, he ate me a lot and we fucked even more often. All night, mid morning, mid afternoon. Just a really lot of sex. Looking back, I think we were either hiding our grief or finding our own way of coping with it. Then the arrangements all got made, we got moved to Bucharest and finally flew back to the U.S. with our parents' coffins.
When we got home we were both exhausted. We each went to our rooms and slept. When I woke up, I felt different. I could hardly drag myself out of bed. It took me a couple days to just unpack. Brian felt the same. We ate sandwiches or fast food, couldn't bring ourselves to cook. We both went to doctors and tried to find out what was wrong. We certainly didn't have the energy for sex.
My father was an insurance agent. He had lots and lots of insurance of just about every type. It ended up our house got paid off and we have literally several million dollars to pay our way through college and live on. We even won a law suit against the travel company. But we're just tired all the time, have no pep, can barely manage to get meals together and handle washing our clothes and going about living. We both go to doctors over and over and get several tests. Nothing wrong with us. We're not having sex, just don't have the energy. In fact, we finally have time to think about things and tell each other that we were probably fucking when our parents died.
The guy I was dating and fucking before we went on the trip came around a lot. He wanted to have more sex but I just wasn't ever in the mood. Just to humor him, or put him off for a while, I finally gave him a blow job. Probably not the world's best blow job, I was too tired. And as I was sucking his cock I started feeling better. In fact, after he came, I got him hard again and we fucked. I was alive again. The next morning I was back to being tired. So tired it was like life wasn't worth living.
But my friend came back the next day and I sucked him off again. And got my life back again. I sucked him about ten in the morning and by six in the evening I was tired again. I had already wondered about sucking a cock and feeling better. So I dragged myself to a local bar. There was a guy there that looked pretty good, sort of a country kind of guy, a healthy farmer type. I got him out in the parking lot and sucked him off. He had a really good cock, better than my boy friends. And I felt better right away. I even arranged to meet him again the next day.
I told Brian about my experiences. I told him I hadn't tried to suck him because I didn't think he had any pep left to give me but perhaps he should see if eating a pussy could revive him like sucking cock does me. Well, he had a couple girls that had been calling him so he had one come over, took her into his room and ate her. He felt so good he fucked her. But an hour or so later he was tired again. We talked about it and I suggested that maybe he lost almost all his pep back to her when he fucked her, that he should stick to just eating the girls. He tried it and it worked. But like me, it only lasted several hours. For the same reason he's not fucking, I haven't had anyone eat me because I would probably just give back some of the pep that I'd gained by sucking cock.
So we're both in the situation of needing to revive ourselves a couple times a day, three times if we're going to try and stay up late. He seems to have an easier time of getting girls to let him eat them. I think it's up to about six of them now that come around fairly regularly. One even comes over to give him pussy juice for breakfast. She's a cute girl and Brian tells me she suggested that maybe he should also 'suck my titties' and perhaps get even more out of it.
Me, I got back to the farmer twice more but could never really bring myself to explain it all to him. My boy friend seems willing to let me suck him as often as I want. I also let him fuck me. I think maybe I actually get a little pep out of that, too. And then I have Peter that's meeting me daily. I have to admit I love his cock. Not only larger than any other I've had but it seems tastier or something, too. I bet it would feel really good fucking me but then we'd have to meet somewhere other than a few feet into the woods. When bad weather hits we'll have to find another place, too.
So, I go along for a couple weeks using my boy friend and Peter and going to the bar every once in a while and finding another stranger. Then Peter tells me he's broken up with Brenda and wants me to go with him to his dorm room rather than just suck him in the woods. So I go. Fucking him really is terrific. The best I've had. We talk a while and he asks more about everything. I tell him that Brian and I had sex and that we've even decided we were probably fucking when our parents died. Peter says that might be a clue and that I needed to go the a psychiatrist at the school.
So, I've been to the psychiatrist three times. I feel enough better that I've had Brian start going, too. In fact, we have separate appointments and then both of us together seeing her. Yeah, the psychiatrist is a she. The way he looks at her I think Brian's planning on eating her one of these days. He tells me that he suggested it to her and she told him that once he's cured, she'll let him as sort of a graduation gift. And it looks like we're going to be cured. It's all been in our minds rather than a virus or something. It's apparently based on our parents dying and our feeling of being wrong by fucking each other. She tells us we need to get over both things, which likely means that Brian and I can eventually get back to fucking each other when we want to and not feeling guilty about it. It also looks like Peter, now at least twice a day Peter, and I are going to become something steady. At least for awhile. I mean, I'm young yet, there's a lot of life ahead.
