Part Two: And
Michelle clutched at her lover, not caring if she seemed needy. She was needy. She wrapped her legs around him, holding tight. She was wet, he was wet, and he was pushing up inside her as far as he could, firmly, repeatedly, just the way she liked.
She shuddered, her clit coming to attention, tingling with that special excitement she craved so badly. He was kissing her, sweet kisses that sent electrical shocks up and down her spine, out to her fingertips and curling toes.
He broke away from her mouth, kissing her eyes, her nose, the side of her neck, nibbling on her ears.
"Oh, God, Micheal, Oh God!"
Their bodies were making squishy wet sounds where they were connected. He was making soft sounding grunts, which became increasingly higher pitched as he got closer to his climax.
He was going to pull out in a few seconds and cum all over her tummy. This was how their act of love usually ended, and she loved it, she loved him, but this time she wanted more.
She concentrated on squeezing her girl muscles around his hard, slippery, cock, squirming beneath him as she did so, clinging to him desperately as their sweaty bodies, hungry, inflamed, flesh, slammed together in delicious unison.
"No, no, baby, I'm close, too close," he panted.
"Yes," she pleaded in a little girl's voice her brother found irresistible. "Don't stop, Micheal. Do it inside me. I know you want to. Do it inside me, baby, PLEASE!"
"Oh, God, Michelle, it's going to happen."
Michelle's orgasm was like a tidal wave of pure sensation. Her back arched like a cat's as she desperately held on to her brother. She could hear the sounds she was making as if they were coming from another person. They sounded like an animal in heat.
She Was An Animal... A Human Animal.... A Human Animal In Heat!
Her body exploded with sensations that overwhelmed her five senses, and she was unable to control herself, not wanting to control herself. She screamed out the name of her brother as they writhed shamelessly together on the floor of the cave they called home.
Vaguely, she could hear his voice, barely recognizable. "I'm cumming, Michelle, I can't stop. Oh, God, it's happening---Oh, God, Mitch!"
Yes, My Beautiful Pet,
My Passionate Man,
My Intimate Lover,
Let It Happen....
LET IT!
When she fully regained her senses, they were still clinging to one another fiercely, both of them panting, gasping for air. She was aware that his baby batter had shot deep inside her, the first time he ever deposited his lovely seed directly into her quivering vajayjay.
Oddly he was shaking, as if he thought he'd done something wrong. She held him even tighter, never wanting to release him, wishing he could stay inside her forever.
If she could die like this, in just this way, with him inside her, this would be the way she'd choose to perish--Their bodies bound together from this place, with their spirits soaring away to whatever place came next.
She entered into the afterglow of her orgasm. It had been a delightfully violent climax. Now he was brushing her hair back behind her ear, touching his face to hers, kissing her face lightly.
Out of all the men she'd ever been with, this was the one who paid the most attention to her after the actual act of love had been completed. Of course, she had trained him this way, but she couldn't train him to care about her or want her. She couldn't train him to love her. That could only come straight from his heart.
She laughed a little looking up at him, studying the face she had come to depend on after all these months on the island together.
"What?"
"Whew," she replied.
"Why did you do that, Mitch? It was a dangerous thing to do."
"Having the man I love cum inside me is dangerous?"
"You know what I mean."
"Did you like it, Micheal? Did you like cumming inside me?"
"I loved it, silly, you must know that, but what if you... " His voice trailed off.
"What if I get pregnant?"
"It could be dangerous, Mitch. Things could go wrong."
"Oh, darling... Women have been having babies for hundreds of thousands of years. Things hardly ever go wrong."
That wasn't really true, of course. Women died from complications of childbirth even into modern times. She wasn't going to admit that to her brother, though. He'd only worry more, and she had accepted the responsibility of being the one to do the worrying. It was a burden her brother didn't need to take on.
Besides, nothing like that was going to happen to her. She had a body built for making babies, lots of them, and she was already getting a late start. She should have started making them when she was eighteen.
Of course, had that been the case, she wouldn't have been making them with Micheal, not unless she wanted to risk going to prison. No, she was convinced this was all meant to be, and everything was going to work out just fine.
As their mother liked to say, "Good things come to those who believe in good things."
"But what if things do go wrong," her brother was saying. "I couldn't live without you, Mitch. I just couldn't."
She hushed him then, which she could do because he trusted her completely, and they cuddled together preparing to sleep. This was their first anniversary together on the island, at least as far as they could reckon, and Michelle had wanted to make the night special for them both.
He fell asleep first, and as she held him, listening to his light snoring, she realized how crazy in love with him she actually was. She'd do anything for him, no matter how outrageous. She woke up each morning thinking about him, and went to bed each night with him on her mind.
It was getting to the point where they could finish each others sentences. Just being around him made Michelle smile all the time.
It had been months since she had lashed out at him about anything. Of all the men she'd ever been with, this was the one she was the most intimate with.
Not just during sex either, although that was unbelievably intimate, but the way they lived their daily lives. Going to the bathroom in front of one another. She would have never dreamt she could one day squat and pee in front of a man without feeling self conscious about it, yet it was something she now did almost every morning.
The first time she had a period in front of him, and she had been so embarrassed she had wanted to crawl off someplace to die--He had taken her hand and told her she was beautiful, and she believed him, and slowly became comfortable around him because she didn't ever want to feel the need to hide from him.
And when he had the diarrhea that one time, testing out the berries he was unsure about, and he had gotten so sick he was frightened he might actually be dying, she'd stayed by his side, messy and disgusting as it was, until he was well again.
