Cape May

Rain

Both of us being new at this, there was some awkward positioning at first, but eventually, Mother Nature lent a hand. Gabby opened her legs while raising her knees. It's as if Mother Nature guided her so she could take me inside and culminate the act, the act that would bind us together forever. She was so wet, so ready that when my head slipped into her it was like a coming home of sorts. There was a tight part that stopped me, but she urged me on. I went pass the tight spot and was engulfed by what I can only describe as velvety heaven.

Her heat and tightness enveloped me, welcomed me, accepted me.

Her moans and gasps of pain and pleasure drove me to heights of passion I thought were impossible. Her nails digging into my biceps only served to heighten the experience. I went slowly, for I needed to give her time to accommodate so she could take all of me. And when finally, I was all the way inside her, I rested. She instinctively wrapped her long legs around my waist as if it was the most natural thing to do, and looking back, it probably was.

I remember now, seventeen years later, as if I was there, re-living the moment, that at the exact moment I entered her, it began to rain. The raindrops fell upon the roof, hard and ferocious, like an angry drum beating in the night. There was a wind, howling in the night, like a lost wolf in search of its pack.

There had been nothing in the news that predicted rain or storm, and yet the waters fell as if the end of the world was near.

I remember thinking, this must be the storm of our passion. The storm of our love

And as I entered into that place a brother should never find himself in, the sound of the rain cascading upon the roof made me feel as if the heavens above or the hell below were speaking to me. And as I buried myself deep inside her, at that moment, I knew there was no going back, and in my mind I wished, I hoped, it was the heavens above, but deep inside I could not get it out of my head, and I knew without a doubt... that it was the hell below.

But the feeling of love that I felt at that moment for her surpassed anything I had felt in the past by a million times. I knew I would love her forever and ever. If this would take us to hell then I did not care if the devil himself had appeared at that moment to take us away.

Tears flowed freely from my eyes and hers as the intensity of feelings overcame our young hearts. We laughed, we cried, we laughed again then cried again, nervous and overjoyed at the same time, unable to comprehend the intense feelings that washed over our souls. Our young hearts and minds were not ready for the ferocity of emotions that engulfed us at that moment. My tears intermingled with hers in a salty mix, as they fell from my face onto hers.

We laid there for what seemed like forever, me inside her, her legs wrapped around me, unmoving.

Finally. she looked at me as if trying to enter my very soul and she started to speak. I was speechless from the emotions, unable to talk. I saw her mouth move, ready to say something. I knew it would be something profound, something that would define the moment forever, for she was always better with words then me. She looks at me and whispers with all the happiness of a child receiving their first Christmas gift,

"Bobby, you're inside me."

Although not profound, those words served to ease the intensity of the moment. I did not want to move for fear that the moment would disappear. She on the other hand, had other ideas.

'Bobby." She whispered in my ear, her breath sending shivers of electricity down my spine.

"Yeah, Gabby,"

"Fuck me!" It was more a command then a request and that's how it always would be with her.

Being her protector, the one who always looked after her, I was inclined to be gentle with her. A lifetime of 'looking out for her' programmed me to make sure she was never hurt. From the moment that we had agreed that we were going to 'do It,' I imagined myself making love to her, tenderly, lovingly. And now, with me buried deeply inside her, in her most intimate place, I dared not thrust, as I so badly wanted to, for fear of causing her harm. The sounds she had made during the initial penetration could have been pleasure or pain, heaven or hell. I knew not which. But Gabby, it would turn out, was not a dainty lover. Her lovemaking was not for the faint of heart. She was, as I soon would discover, wild and rough, like the free mustangs of the open prairie; impossible to tame, but well worth the effort.

She would implore me to, "fuck me harder Bobby, fuck me harder. Make it hurt,"

And she started using language I thought was only used in videos of ill repute. I have to admit though that her words did bring on a heightened sense of pleasure to our lovemaking. She would catch me in the kitchen when she thought no one was around and roughly throw me against the wall and give me a long passionate kiss, then tell me, "I'm gonna fuck your brains out tonight!" Or she may whisper as she's passing me in the living room, "I want to feel your cock ramming my tight little pussy."

My fifteen-year old little innocent had become a woman, a wild and lustful woman.

But there were times when she would lay in bed and beg me like the eight-year old girl I once used to know, to fuck her, "Please fuck me Bobby. I need it so bad. please fuck me," in that little girl voice she knew I could not resist.

She became very adept at getting me to fill her body whenever she wanted to, which was very often.

Now, her way of being during sex brought out a very real danger, the danger of my mother or my grandmother becoming aware of our goings on. Although our rooms were way on the other side of the house, far from mommy and grandma's and on the second floor, Gabby's enthusiasm threatened to give us away on several occasions. So, she learned to scream in a whisper, moan silently; speak dirty to me in a hushed, if not desperate tone. This just served to heighten the sexuality of it all as all the energy of a scream, a moan was now channeled into a frenzied whisper, a hushed tone filled with the urgency and power of the moment, like a nuclear explosion of sexual fury channeled into a laser like beam, the power of which burned into my soul and drove my sexuality and orgasms to heights I thought were impossible for mere mortals. It was like the passion and lust of the Gods. We would lay there for minutes having to recuperate and regain our breaths and our senses.

Of course, sometimes, Gabby being Gabby, a pillow needed to be used as a last resort.

Later that night, as she would every night thereafter, she moved against me, snuggling her backside into me, what some people would call spooning. I loved that position, for it allowed me to hold her as the little bird that I thought she was, safe against my embrace, her body, shaped to my body. We lay there like that for a while. When she moved I could feel my hardness press against her backside. Usually, I would slip right in between her cheeks and she would squirm against him as if trying to let him know that she was totally his, always and forever.

We always dressed in our night clothes when we slept, her in one of my old t-shirts and me in my boxers. After a bout of fooling around we would always get dressed before falling asleep in each others arms for although mommy never ventured upstairs, we realized that the impossible may always turn into the possible. And so, in case mommy ever did came upstairs, while we were sleeping, for whatever reason, we figured it would be difficult, but not improbable, to explain to her why her fifteen-year old daughter was snuggling up to her seventeen year old son, only as lovers do.

Difficult, but not improbable, since we would have been clothed.

But, trying to explain to a woman why her naked fifteen-year-old daughter was cuddling up to her naked seventeen-year old son was another matter. A matter we cared not to get into. I'm sure it would not go quite so well as the kitchen incident.

Then there is the matter of her getting pregnant. At first we would do it right after her periods when she was less likely to get pregnant, but eventually we got careless and started doing it all the time. I suggested I use a condom, but she didn't want me to, saying she wanted to feel my cock inside her naturally.

"Plus Bobby, it drives me so crazy when you come inside me."

Now if all of this makes you think I am talking about another girl and not the skinny little girl that used to make my life miserable, you'd sort of be right. Monica Gabriela not only transformed right before my eyes from a little bag of bones to a voluptuous female, but she also transformed from an innocent child to a lust filled wild lover. But the love was still there. Always was. It was just stronger now because of the sex. Sex has a tendency to make good love gooder.

I guess there was something to that Cosmopolitan article.

She never did get pregnant and being young and I suppose, stupid, we figured we were lucky and continued our Russian roulette of sex. I did not find out until much later on in life that I have a condition known as oligospermia, also known as having a low sperm count. In my case, my sperm count is so low that Holly and I had to utilize in vitro fertilization for her to conceive. That's why I have twins. About 75% of women who use in vitro give birth to twins.