Chapter 4

Emma might have had body image issues, but they were ridiculous. I watched as she got naked and, trust me, any man who saw her do that would react the same way I did. She looked like one of those gymnasts in the Olympics, petite, well-formed, or maybe I should say well-proportioned. Her breasts were quite modest, but they were still breasts, and they made my mouth water. She was right about the body hair, too. There was none. Not one. She looked like a twenty-year-old twelve-year-old.

“Hurry up,” she said. “It’s chilly.”

She walked around the end of the bed and got in on the other side. If she was embarrassed, it wasn’t showing.

I realized I was trying to emulate an owl. My neck hurt and I finally tore my eyes off of her.

There comes a time in every man’s life when he’s faced with a difficult decision. He weighs the pros and cons, but eventually he has to make a decision. I could have gone out and slept on the couch. I wouldn’t have gotten much sleep, because it would be cold. That’s not why I decided to sleep in the bed, though. I’ll be honest. I wanted to sleep in that bed for the same reasons any other man would have made the same decision.

It finally dawned on me that I’d been had when, as soon as I pulled the covers over me, she rolled and embraced me with a body that felt like it was on fire.

“Oooo, you’re so cold!” she complained.

“I’ll warm up,” I said. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you. You’d get all curmudgeonly about it.”

“Because I should be curmudgeonly in this situation?”

“No. You should take advantage of me in this situation.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I’m a helpless little lamb, and I have to sleep with the big, bad wolf, because of the snow storm.”

“So now I’m a wolf? I thought I was a curmudgeon.”

“You’re supposed to be a wolf,” she said, snuggling in. Her hand drifted down my body until it hit pubic hair.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not the best way to enter into that kind of relationship,” I advised.

“The best way to enter into that kind of relationship is with a man you love, a man you trust, a man you’re willing to do things with.”

She had me there. I couldn’t argue with that.

“I think they call this incest,” I said, softly.

“I think they call this being snowed in, and nobody’s going to know what happens because they’re all snowed in, too.”

“What if you feel differently tomorrow morning? You’ll be stuck with a man you no longer feel that way about.”

“Uncle Bob, I’ve wanted to be like this with you since I was twelve. I’ve had a crush on you for years. I know it’s a crush, but that’s what all those girls have on the guys they go to prom with, and then get in bed with after prom. The difference is, I know you love me and will always love me. Maybe I won’t want to do it again, but I want to do it at least once, and I want the first time to be with you.”

“You didn’t have to order a full-blown blizzard, just to lose your virginity,” I said.

“Yes I did. You’d never have gone for it if the situation wasn’t like it is right now.”

“How do you know I want to go for it, now?”

Her hand moved lower, quickly. She fumbled a bit, but it wasn’t that hard to find what she was looking for. She gripped my boner and squeezed.

“Please?”

Could you have resisted that?

She may not have known what she wanted, but she was willing to try just about anything. I decided to kiss her first. A kiss can be a very intimate thing, when the mouth is open. It’s no small thing to accept someone’s tongue into your mouth.

It didn’t bother her a bit.

She kissed me back with gusto as my hands roamed all over her slim body. I thought she’d pull away when my hand slid over her hip and pressed for entry between her thighs.

It didn’t bother her a bit.

She lifted one leg, bending her knee, opening herself to invasion. Even when I slid a finger into her, it was easy because she was already lubricated. I felt no hint of a hymen, though she grunted into my mouth as her vagina was violated. The movement of her hips, an instinctive thrust, made it clear she didn’t feel violated at all. I probed deep and she grunted again when the tip of my finger rimmed her cervix.

It didn’t bother her at all.

I had to taste those tiny, pink nipples. It reminded me of trying to suck Amy Trimble’s clit, back when I was in college. Her clit was small, and it liked to hide. Amy was happy with my efforts, though, and when I finally sucked hard enough to get Emma’s nipple into my mouth she whined and arched her chest. I bit the tender flesh just hard enough that I thought she’d complain.

It didn’t bother her at all.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m fabulous,” she panted.

“You want more?”

“I want it all,” she gasped.

I pulled her on top of me and she straddled me by instinct. It wasn’t instinct that made her scoot up, with one hand on my chest, while the other found my rock hard prick. It might have been instinct that told her where to put the tip, but it was a decision she made to grunt and try to impale herself.

“Easy,” I said. “Go slow.”

“I don’t want to go slow,” she rasped.

“You’ll be glad you did,” I urged.

“It won’t go in,” she complained. “It’s supposed to go in!”

“You’re tight, Baby,” I said, stroking her sides. “Just ease it in.”

“I don’t know how to ease it in,” she said.

I had her lie down on me, and kiss me while she worked on it. She jerked and moved like she was doing some strange dance, to rock and roll music only she could hear. The moment of truth was when she finally stretched her opening enough that the head popped in her. She gave a squeak, and pushed with her arms, sitting up. I couldn’t see it, but I felt her slowly slide down, fractions of an inch at a time, as her body weight and gravity worked together.

“Ohhhh fuck,” she groaned, as she was filled. I could imagine her body parts moving out of the way, her tissues spreading.

That’s when, like a firework going off right in front of my eyes, I remembered that this kind of thing was intended to reproduce.

“You aren’t protected!” I gasped.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” she groaned again, as her vagina tensed, gripping my penis like a velvet vise, and then relaxed.

“You have to get off,” I said.

“No, I do not the fuck have to get off,” she growled. “I just got fucking on!“

“If you don’t get off, I’m going to make a baby in you,” I gasped.

She leaned down and kissed me. Then, with her lips just brushing mine, she replied.

“I know.”

Many first times, when it comes to sex, are less than fulfilling. It’s common for the participants to be virtual strangers, nervous, and ignorant about how to even have good sex. It’s not unusual at all if the female doesn’t achieve a climax.

In our case, even though most of the hurdles were either cleared or missing, we still didn’t have good sex. And Emma didn’t achieve a climax. That’s because, when she said what she said, I tried to blow my wad through the top of her head.

Right after I did that, I felt bad.

Emma, on the other hand, was entirely happy with the outcome. She hadn’t been looking for a mind-bending orgasm. She’d been looking to get me in bed and lose her virginity.

Mission accomplished, as far as Emma was concerned.

“Next time maybe you’ll go long enough that I can cum, too,” she said.

“There won’t be a next time,” I said. My penis was still lodged inside her. I was soft, but she was so tight that I was still in her grip, so to speak. “You’re fifteen. It would be insane to risk getting pregnant.”

“Can I tell you what scares me the most of all?”

“Okay,” I said, expecting her to talk about having to walk around with a distended belly and having to have help getting up off a couch, or maybe the unknown terror of actually giving birth.

“My worst nightmare is that my parents come back from wherever they are, and take me away from you.”

I was speechless.

“But if I have your baby, they can’t do that. They can’t make me leave the man who is the father of the baby.”

“Of course they can,” I said, aghast that she could think that way. “First, they’ll put me in prison. Then they’ll take you wherever they want to, because they’re your parents. Most likely, they’ll give the baby up for adoption.”

“They couldn’t do that if we lived in Baja.”

“What?”

“Baja California. The age of consent there is fourteen.”

“We’re not in Baja California,” I pointed out. “There would be a lot less snow if we were in Baja California.”

“My point is we could argue that there are places in the world where a fifteen-year-old bride is not outrageous.”

“Now you want to marry me?” My voice rose an octave and a half.

“Of course,” she said. “Since I was twelve. Remember?”

“On, Baby, where did I go wrong with you?” I groaned.

“We didn’t do this last year, for one thing,” she offered. “I forgive you for making me wait.”