Frost and Fever: A Doctor’s Forbidden CureI’m Dr. Henry Voss, 49, and this is my confession—a jagged, frostbitten tale of how my daughter, Mara, and I stumbled into a sin so raw it burned through the ice of Frostbite Ridge, a nowhere speck in Alaska’s unforgiving mountains. I’m a doctor, trained to heal, but what I did with her was a cure no textbook could justify. It’s wild, desperate, and drenched in sweat despite the cold, and I’m laying bare every shivering, pulsing detail because she became my fever, and I couldn’t let her go.Mara was 20 when it hit, a fierce girl forged by this frozen hell—auburn hair tangled from the wind, green eyes bright with defiance, and a body that tested my oath—breasts full under her thermals, hips curved from hiking, legs strong against the snow. Her mother froze to death in a blizzard when Mara was five, leaving us in a log clinic perched on a ridge, surrounded by pines and ice. I’d patched up miners, trappers, and my girl through years of scrapes, but it was her fever that broke me.It started last January, when a storm locked us in—winds howling, snow burying the ridge, the thermometer at minus 30. Mara had been out checking traps, stubborn as ever, and came back burning up, her skin hot under layers, her breath shallow. I’m a doctor, so I stripped her to her underwear, laid her on the cot by the woodstove, and checked her—pulse racing, temp spiking at 104. She was delirious, mumbling, her condition a knife in my gut. I was restless, pacing in my flannel and jeans, stethoscope around my neck, fighting the panic.“Dad,” she rasped, voice weak as she kicked off the blanket, her thermal bra and panties clinging, soaked with sweat. Her nipples poked through, her thighs glistened, and I froze—my cock twitched, a traitor’s pulse in this crisis. “Too hot,” she whined, and I grabbed ice packs, pressing them to her neck, her chest, my hands shaking as I brushed her skin.“Stay still, Mara,” I growled, my voice rough, but my eyes locked on her—her tits heaving, her fever-flushed face. She grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer, and I smelled her—sweat, pine, sickness. “Fix me,” she pleaded, delirious, and something snapped—the doctor faded, the father faltered, and the man stirred.That was the first crack in the ice. The next week, as her fever ebbed and flared, I fed the beast. She’d thrash on the cot, stripping layers, her bare ass flashing as she rolled. I’d catch her bathing by the stove, water dripping down her curves, and I’d turn away, my dick hard, swearing at myself. We’d huddle by the fire, her half-dressed against me, and I’d feel her heat—fever and something else—imagining her under me, her moans in the wind. I fought it, dosing her with meds, but the ridge’s isolation whispered louder, and I was slipping.Then came the night the storm and fever fused us.A blizzard roared in, fiercer than before—ice pelting the cabin, the stove barely holding the cold at bay. Mara’s fever spiked again, 105, her skin scorching, her eyes glassy. I was in a thermal shirt and pants, sweating from the fight, when she stumbled from the cot, delirious, tearing at her bra and panties, collapsing naked by the fire. Her tits bounced free, her pussy bare and slick with sweat, and I lunged, catching her, my hands on her burning flesh.“Dad,” she slurred, clinging to me, “so hot… help me.” Her body pressed mine, her nipples hard against my chest, and I groaned, my cock rock-hard, the doctor drowning in the man. “Mara,” I rasped, “this ain’t right,” but she kissed me—weak, feverish, then wild, her tongue a flame in my mouth.I lost it, laying her on the rug, tearing my shirt off, my chest heaving as I tasted her—salt, fever, desperation. She clawed my back, and I yanked my pants down, my cock springing free—thick, veined, aching despite the shame. I spread her legs, her cunt dripping—fever sweat or want, I didn’t care—and dove in, licking her—hot, musky, alive—sucking her clit as she screamed, “Fuck, Dad, yes!” Her hands yanked my hair, her hips bucking despite her weakness, and she came, her juices flooding my face, a cure I couldn’t prescribe.“Gonna fuck you,” I growled, climbing her, and she nodded, delirious. “Do it,” she gasped, and I thrust in, slow and deep, her tight pussy burning around me as she cried, “You’re huge!” I fucked her steady, the rug rough under us, her tits bouncing wild as I grunted, “You’re mine, baby.” She wrapped her legs around me, feeble but fierce, meeting every thrust, the storm’s roar our pulse—wind shrieking, logs cracking, her moans cutting through.I flipped her, pulling her ass up, her knees trembling from fever, and slammed back in, spanking her red, the sting sharp in the heat. “Harder,” she begged, voice breaking, and I grabbed her throat, choking lightly as I railed her, her pussy dripping onto the rug, the cabin shaking with us. She came again, her cunt pulsing, and I roared, “Gonna cum,” unloading thick cum deep inside her, filling her as she milked me, the fever and I claiming her together.That night was our thaw. Frostbite Ridge became our frozen chaos, a battlefield of ice and flesh. Days later, her fever down but lingering, we fucked in the clinic’s exam room—me bending her over the table, her thermals shoved aside, taking her ass—yeah, she begged for it, her moans muffled by a gauze pad after I slicked her with med lube. I pounded her, instruments clattering, her ass clenching as I came, the wind howling outside like a witness.Next, we hit the snowmobile shed, a blizzard still raging. I tied her to the handlebars with my scarf, blindfolded her with a thermal sleeve, and edged her—sucking her tits, teasing her clit with an ice shard—until she was thrashing, croaking, “Fuck me, Dad, now!” I mounted her, fucking her hard, the shed rattling, snow seeping in as she came, her cum dripping onto the metal, my load hot inside her despite the cold.The chaos spiked during a supply run gone wrong—sled dogs broke loose, meds scattered in the snow. We took shelter in a cave, ice walls glinting. I pinned her to a rock, tearing her parka, and ate her pussy—tongue deep, fingers sloppy in her ass—until she was sobbing, “Fuck me, please!” I did, lifting her, slamming her against the stone, her legs around my neck as I fucked her standing, the cave echoing, dogs barking outside. She came so hard she squirted, soaking my coat, and I pulled out, cumming on her tits, the mess freezing in the air.One crazed night, we crashed the outpost’s radio shack—static crackling, storm cutting us off. I tied her wrists with coax cable, blindfolded her with my stethoscope strap, and edged her—rubbing her pussy with a mic, teasing her ass with a pen—until she was a fevered wreck, yelling, “Fuck me, Dad, end this!” I bent her over the console, fucking her raw, dials spinning, the shack trembling as she came, her screams lost in the static, my cum filling her as the signal died.Days later, we hit a frozen creek—ice cracking, wind biting. She bent over a log, pants down, and I fucked her from behind, my hands bruising her hips, the cold searing as I spanked her, pulled her hair. She came, her pussy gushing, my cum hot inside her as we collapsed, snow swirling, the ridge’s silence swallowing us.The peak came during a med evac gone feral—chopper grounded, a miner bleeding out, storm trapping us in a tent. I tied her to the cot with bandages, blindfolded her with a surgical mask, and edged her—fingers in her cunt, tongue on her ass—until she was raging, “Fuck me, Dad, now!” I climbed her, fucking her hard, the tent flapping, blood and snow seeping in as she came, her fever breaking with her orgasm, my cum dripping down her thighs, the miner’s groans fading beside us.Her fever finally broke, but we didn’t. We fucked in the attic days later—me lifting her, slamming her against a beam, her legs trembling post-sickness, the roof creaking as she came, my cum painting her belly, the storm a distant growl. We knew it was fucked—Alaska’s trappers, the outpost doc, anyone would shoot me if they knew. But in this frost-and-fever hell—her pussy, her cries, her heat—she was my cure, my sin. Even now, she’s by the stove, stripped to her thermals, wet and waiting, daring me to heal her again. And I will, because she’s my patient, my daughter, my everything in this icy abyss.