Cabin Fever - An erotic novel

She had been coming, again and again, for the last fifteen minutes. Approximately. I was too busy with my mouth and my hands to take the time.

Yeah, I know. Fifteen minutes isn’t anything to write home about. I could have done better, made it last longer.

Unfortunately, I was in something of a rush. Well, not exactly a rush. More like I had to prioritize my resources. A man in my position couldn’t spend too much time satisfying just the one woman when so much depended on being able to do them all!

What position?

Well, she was lying spread-eagled on the big double bed, her long, dark locks like a halo against the eggshell linen. No, she wasn’t tied up or anything – just pushing against the headboard and spreading her legs wide. I was down on all fours, head buried between her thighs, giving her the time of her life.

Fifteen minutes of one hundred percent pure ecstasy.

That’s something to cherish, to be proud of. Well done, ladies! I’m a bit jealous. When I make a girl come and come and come, I wish it could be me. The male orgasm seems so simple by comparison.

Don’t get me wrong: my orgasms are fantastic. I can do two pretty much in a row, three even, if the chick is hot – or there is something extra steamy going down. But I can’t come for fifteen minutes straight. And sometimes, just sometimes, that seems a tad bit unfair.

Cunnilinus... cunniliggus... why would they make such a horrible word for something so beautiful? I can’t even spell the damn thing! Cunnilingus. That’s it. And a thousand other words besides, but pussy licking is what I like to call it. Simple and to the point. Without sounding gross, like ‘eat out’ or ‘muff dive.’ Who comes up with these kinds of names anyway!?

Most of the time, I’m perfectly happy with being a guy. But still, sometimes I wish I was a girl, just for one day. I’d be rubbing away at that clit all day long. I’d be rubbing it until I could take no more, and then some more until it was so tender and sensitive, I couldn’t be anywhere near it.

Then I’d go to sleep for a while, wake up, repeat. That would be my day as a girl. I know, I know, it sounds pretty base. What can I say? I’m a guy. We’re base. No changing what you are, just try to make the best out of it. You have to work with what you’ve got, right?

I had the spread-eagled girl in just that spot. She was right at the edge of ‘can’t take any more.’ I’m not talking about taking a short break and then back at it. Or circling the clit, waiting to strike again (sorry about the shark analogy, it just slipped out).

This was way beyond that point. If you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, without pointing any accusing fingers, someone hasn’t been doing it right.

I let my mouth cover her for three long, warm breaths. Breathe in through the nose, slowly out through the mouth. In, out. In, out. In, out. I could feel her shudder with each exhalation. She was past rational thought, but her body quivered with a mix of anticipation and dread. She wanted that tongue so badly but could take it no more. Knowing I was there, just beyond reach, was almost too much for the poor girl.

I have to admit: I love that feeling. It’s something of a power trip. And as a bonus: a horny-as-hell woman is always a better fuck than a half-aroused one. I’m sure you see my point.

I still had two – or was it three? – fingers inside her, but they weren’t moving. I just held them firmly against the G-spot to keep her from moving around too much. I make no judgments here – you can believe in the G-spot or not as you please. Personally, I have some conflicting experiences: there have been women swearing it’s their stairway to heaven – and those that swear it’s just a figment of the imagination. If ever I find out for real, I’ll let you know, first thing.

I’m saying I had my fingers jammed right where the fabled G-spot is supposed to be. And in this case, it seemed to be working – or maybe it was just my mouth. Kind of hard to tell. My other arm wrapped around her thigh and hip, with the palm my hand pressed firmly against her perfectly toned, heaving abs.

I stopped breathing. Pushed down a fraction. Close. So very close. The girl started shivering. The shivering increased with each passing heartbeat. She knew my tongue was there, just out of reach. She began making strange, guttural sounds, something halfway between sobs and moans. She strained against me, trying to push her pelvis up, to force that aching clit against my tongue. What little control remained to her went right out the window.

I let her work a little for it, teased her. She became frantic, desperate. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her body shook. She arched her back, and her noises became a string of barely intelligible, ‘Oh gods.’

I finally relented. I let the girl push herself against my tongue. I didn’t move it around, just held it perfectly still. Any more would be too much, would ruin this perfect moment.

The instant we touched, she came again, one final time. A deep, drawn-out climax that made her arching back twist like a serpent. It went on like that for, I don’t know, maybe half a minute?

Next thing you know, she suddenly went limp and fell back onto the bed. Lay there panting for a while. There may have been a few sobs of joy. Then she pretty much passed out and headed into post-orgasmic Neverland.

I think I can safely say it was one of the nicest orgasms I have ever given another person.

I looked over at the other girl in the room. She was still fast asleep, a mass of bare skin, her long black hair still damp from the shower, dreaming away next to her girlfriend. I hoped they both would stay that way until morning. The blizzard was still raging outside, and dawn was hours away. I didn’t want anyone to wake up and require another round of pleasuring.