I walked home from Jo’s house in a bit of a daze. My loins still radiated warmth and happiness from that wonderful, wonderful head job. But my heart was in turmoil and my mind was confused.

Before today, what was left of the “good Catholic boy” in me seemed to yearn for the pretty, shy, “good Catholic girl” in Jo. But that part of me tried to deny that Jo was a busty cock tease and put her up on a pedestal of purity as some unobtainable goddess.

As unexpected as it was for me to discover that Jo was really a dirty talking, cock teasing size queen, who could lick her own nipples and swallow my cum, it was even more surprising to find myself instantly and madly infatuated with such a girl. The old me, who would have judged the new Jo to be a wicked slut, seemed to be left behind entirely as I fell, guilt-free, down the rabbit hole with Jo in that laundry.

But then she mentioned Tabatha, and guilt came rushing back. Not moral guilt that I had been a bad boy with a bad girl, but guilt that I had so quickly and easily forgotten about Tabatha. I felt like I had betrayed her in some way.

In my naivety as a teenage boy, I equated my feelings with “love”. How could I fall in love with Jo so easily when she was such a slut? And what did that mean for my love for Tabatha?

That was the turmoil of my heart.

Overlayed on that was a lot of confusion in my mind. I could not reconcile what Jo said with what she did. So much of what she said was open to more than one interpretation. And she seemed to play dumb, when she clearly wasn’t.

Lisa told Jo that Tabatha fucked a boy from Xavier with a cock thicker than her wrist. Jo knew that I went to Xavier and had a cock thicker than her wrist. And yet Jo did not seem to connect me with the boy who fucked Tabatha. She didn’t accuse me. She didn’t allude to any connection. Was she actually that dumb? or was she just playing dumb?

And if she was playing dumb, and she knew I had fucked my sister, why did she not care? Or, if she cared, why had she gone ahead and sucked me off in the laundry?

It didn’t make sense.

“It’s the baby!” My Mum gushed and fussed over me as usual when she opened the front door. “You’re home! I missed you! I was worried about you! Are you OK? Did you enjoy your dinner at Jo’s?”

“Mmn.”

“What did you have?”

“Pizza.” I pulled away from Mum’s warm hug and headed up the stairs to my room.

“Is Jo your first girlfriend?” she called after me. I blushed, but I kept going and didn’t answer. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“MMN!” I grunted loud enough for her to hear me at the bottom of the stairs.

My head was spinning. But my mum was the last person I could talk to about any of it.

I lay awake late into the night and I slept in on Sunday morning. The questions still remained, but they seemed less urgent after sleep. I avoided Tabatha until we all sat down to dinner on Sunday evening.

“So, Andy, tell us about your afternoon and evening with Jo. What did you two get up to?” Mum asked. She made it sound like an innocent question, but I blushed and choked on a mouthful of mashed potato that I accidentally inhaled. When I looked up, Tabatha and Mum were both staring at me.

“So she is your girlfriend?” said Mum, as if my choking was a confession.

“Have you called her?” asked Tabatha, in her usual hostile tone.

“No!” I said defensively, trying to imply that it was the answer to both questions.

“Why not, Andy? You’re not going to be one of those arsehole boys who kisses a girl and never calls!” Mum and Tabatha exchanged looks before Tabatha went on. “Not in this house! And especially not with my best friend’s sister!”

“OK, OK, I’ll call.”

That seemed to placate both of them. We continued eating. Tabatha and Mum made small talk as if I wasn’t there. Tabatha showed no sign of being jealous about me hooking up with Jo. If anything, she seemed less hostile. That was not what I expected.

After dinner I called Jo and she sounded pleased. I called from the landline beside Mum’s bed. We talked for ages. I told her how much I had enjoyed last night and she teased me by asking me to list the various things I liked.

“What did you like best?”

“The best bit was when you swallowed my cum. I never expected that.”

“Mmm. I could tell you liked that. That was probably my favourite part too. The way you kept coming and coming and coming. That, and your reaction. It made me happy to give you so much pleasure.”

I was hard again listening to her talk. My heart was pounding and I closed my eyes and I was back in that laundry again.

“Andy? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. When can I see you again?”

We made plans to meet after school the following day at the Fish ’n’ Chip shop. I bought her a bucket of hot chips with tomato sauce and made her suck and lick the sauce off every chip as we walked home together.

“You know what?” she said.

“What?”

“I think these chips would taste better with mayonnaise.” My mouth dropped open. “Thick . . . white . . . salty . . . creamy, mayonnaise.” She smiled a sexy smile. At least now I knew she was teasing me. And I let myself enjoy it. I imagined squirting my “mayonnaise” on more than just her chips. I smiled. “You’ve got a dirty mind, Andrew Hall. What are you thinking?”

“I was just thinking that when I’m trying to put mayonnaise on your chips, some might accidentally squirt on your beautiful face.” I was pretty pleased with myself for giving Jo a taste of her own double entendre. But she didn’t seem to like it. She stopped abruptly.

“What kind of a girl do you think I am, Andy?” She sounded offended. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m not one of your porn star sluts, you know!” Really? I sort of thought you were.

“No! No, of course not. I’m sorry. I just thought that . . .”

“Since I swallow, I’ll do anything?” Well, yeah. Won’t you?

“No! Not at all!”

“There’s two things I would never do, Andy. Anal . . .”

“Eew! No! I would never do that either!”

“. . . or let a boy come on my face. That would be so humiliating! The only reason a boy would ever want to do that would be to humiliate me. I could never be with a boy who wanted to do that to me.” Shit, what have I said?

“I’m sorry. I would never do that to you. I promise.” She seemed to calm down a bit. But there still seemed to be the problem that I had said it at all in the first place. We stood looking at each other for a moment.

“I was actually only talking about mayonnaise.” She tried not to smile and then she burst out laughing. She put her arm in mine and we kept walking. Phew!

Jo suggested we meet at a café for brunch the following Saturday. That sounded like such a grown-up thing to do. And it sounded expensive. I didn’t have a job yet and I didn’t get much pocket money.

“They do the best French toast there. Have you tried it?”

“No.”

“They sprinkle it with cinnamon. I love cinnamon, don’t you?” I nodded, but I didn’t quite share her level of enthusiasm. “I read in Cosmopolitan that when a guy eats cinnamon, it flavours his cum.” She looked at me and let that one sink in for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to try it. It’ll be my treat. I’ll take you to brunch and you can order the French toast and afterwards I’ll suck you off and taste your cinnamon cum. Does that sound OK to you?”

I was speechless but I nodded like a bubble head.

Saturday would not come quick enough. I even abstained from wanking on the Friday night. I met Jo at the tram stop, as arranged, and we caught the tram down Glenferrie Road into Hawthorn. The café was called “Café Vamp”. Jo told me it was her favourite and she liked the name. It was only later that I understood the significance.

Jo is wearing a black tank-top that conceals her big breasts beneath a gaping chambray shirt that is open to the waist, where it is tied rather than buttoned. She wears pale blue denim shorts that are modestly made from an old pair of jeans, and cut modestly above the knees. Fashionable rips and holes hint that her thighs are just as brown and lovely as her bare calves. She must be wearing fake tan.

As we sit opposite each other at a table for two in the café, I take the opportunity to study her pretty oval face. She has a fine nose with a sharply defined ridge that scoops into a little ski jump. She has exquisite full lips. When her mouth is closed, they look miniature and her mouth looks too small for her face. But when she smiles, those cupid lips open wide over white teeth in a smile that is unexpectedly large. She has a few freckles sprinkled across her nose and under her eyes that make her look cute. But her cheeks are unmarked and pale and fill with a rosy blush when she is embarrassed. Like she is now from my staring.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. I just like looking at you. You’re so beautiful.”

She looks down at the table and blushes deeper, like the shy girl of old.

A waiter appears. He is arrogant and only a few years older than us. I don’t like the way he leers at Jo as he takes our order. I don’t like him at all. We order two serves of French toast and two hot chocolates.

It is difficult not to wolf down the cinnamon toast in one go. My cock strains in my pants as I watch Jo’s lips and teeth and her tongue work to produce words that seem sexy just because they come out of that gorgeous mouth. Her voice, her intonation and the way she seems to lazily lisp the odd “s” into a “zh” – it all sounds so sexy.

She pays the bill and I discourage her from leaving a tip for that creepy waiter.

We go back to my place and Mum makes a big fuss over Jo. Welcoming her as if she is visiting for the first time. It’s embarrassing. Tabatha is at work.

“I was hoping you might help me in the garden this afternoon, Andy,” says Mum. She’s only stirring. It’s a running joke with Mum. She loves gardening and I hate it.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe later. But we want to watch a movie first, if that’s OK.”

“Sure it’s OK. I was only teasing. You watch your movie. I’ll be out in the back garden pruning the roses.”

As soon as Mum has gone out into the back garden, Jo and I leave the TV running and sneak away to my bedroom. Jo has never been in my bedroom before and she looks around.

“Your room is much tidier than most boys’ bedrooms. And it doesn’t smell as much.”

I suspect that is because Mum has tidied it up while I was out and she has opened the window. The net curtain billows slightly in the light breeze. I can hear the snip of the secateurs outside.

“Thanks.” But how many boys’ bedrooms have you been in?

“I’ll just close the window, it’s too cold.” Jo moves to the window but I stop her.

“Shhh! Mum will hear it. I don’t want her to know we’re in my bedroom.” I am whispering.

We are standing at the foot of my bed, in front of the window. In the same spot where I used to stand and watch Marcus and Tabatha. We turn to face one another and Jo sits down on the bed. She starts undoing my pants.

“Now where’s this cinnamon treat you owe me?”

My cock is swollen and purple and raw from being teased and straining inside my pants for the last hour. My balls are heavy and aching from not being relieved last night. I have wilted a bit from the distracting pain. I’m also conscious that Mum is not far away and could hear us if we make a noise.

Jo puts me in her mouth and starts sucking. Because I am not fully erect, she is able to take all of me into her mouth. Her mouth is warm and wet and she leaves a slick of saliva on my dick as she draws away.

“You’re not as hard today.” She spits on her hand and pumps me slowly with her fist while she’s talking. “Am I losing my touch?” Her saliva is slippery and feels as good as any oil.

“No, it’s me. I usually bar up talking to Mum about gardening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Very funny. So you’re going to make me work for my treat, are you?” With that she sucks strongly all the way down my shaft, which stiffens in the tight grip of her lips.

“Ohhhh!” I moan, realising too late that it is too unrestrained for an open window.

Jo withdraws and puts a warning finger to her lips. I look out the window to were Mum is kneeling at the rose bed. She doesn’t seem to have heard me. “It’s OK,” I whisper.

Jo repeats the hard suck and I am fully erect before she gets half way down. The curve of my cock presses into her tongue and the bulging head presses against the roof of her mouth. She gags when I get to the back of her mouth, just like she did last time. I feel a sense of pride that she can’t take me all the way in, like she says she has done with other boys.

“I love the feeling of your cock getting bigger in my mouth.”

“It’s the magic lollipop: the harder you suck, the bigger it gets.” That’s the punchline to an old joke, but Jo hasn’t heard it before and she laughs.

She keeps sucking and I can feel my orgasm building already. This is not going to take long.

I hear the snap of a rose branch being cut outside and then the sound of my mother sneezing.

For some reason, the thought that I am being sucked off by Jo in broad daylight, with my Mum just metres away, tips me over the edge and I start to squirt. I clutch Jo’s head to steady myself as my hips buck and my thighs shudder in the grip of a very powerful orgasm. Knowing that Jo is happy for me to fuck her face and come in her mouth allows me to enjoy this orgasm more and fuck her mouth without restraint. My only thought is not to hurt that beautiful nose.

I am aware of the gulp, gulp, hiss as Jo swallows my cinnamon flavoured cum. She moans in satisfaction. But as I keep squirting, the moan turns into a worried groan.

Mmnnnn, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, hiss, hiss . . .

Jo explodes over my cock in a choking cough, spraying air and saliva and cum back onto my crotch. I let go of her head and withdraw and she gasps while the last few squirts shoot out of my cock. The first squirt lands on her forehead and she opens her eyes in time to see the second, weaker squirt arc down onto the spot where her black tank top covers her cleavage. Then she looks up at me. She looks really worried.

“I’m so sorry, Andy. That’s never happened before. There was just so much cum.” She stands up and looks into my eyes as if she is pleading for forgiveness. As if she expects me to be angry with her for not being able to swallow all my cum. I’m amused, but I try to keep a straight face.

“That’s OK.” My eyes are distracted by the white cum on her top. She looks down. “You better wipe that off before it stains.” I get the tissues from my bedside table to wipe up the mess from Jo’s sputtering cough.

“Sorry. I’m really sorry.” I am amused at how apologetic she is about not swallowing every last drop of my cum. This is my kind of girl. “What are you smiling at?” She seems relieved that I am not angry with her.

“Nothing.” I point to the white blob on her tank top and offer her a tissue to wipe it. She does, but a white outline remains. The other splash of cum starts to ooze down her forehead. She only becomes aware of it now and reaches up instinctively with her hand. Her expression changes with dawning realisation.

“Oh, you’re smiling because you got to come on my face!”

I am staggered by the accusation and look quickly sideways out the window to check that Mum has not heard Jo’s raised voice. She is still snipping away at the roses.

“Let’s go back to the lounge room to talk.” I pull up my pants and Jo follows me back to the room where the movie is still playing on the TV.

I explained to Jo why I was smiling and she seemed to accept that.

“It’s not as if coming on your face would be better or anything,” I try to reassure her of my honourable intentions. “I really like coming in your mouth and having you swallow it. I never expected a girl to do that. What you do is really special.”

Jo beams with pride and kisses me.

“You’re special too,” she says. “I’ve never choked on a cock or choked on a load before . . . what?”

“You make it sound like you’ve fucked a lot of boys.”

“. . . and . . .?”

“And I’ve only had sex one time with one girl before. You make me feel like such a beginner.”

“OK, then let’s get a few things straight. I’ve only fucked one guy, one time, too.”

“What?”

“It’s true! He was a basketball player and he had the biggest cock I’ve ever seen in my life.” She sees the look on my face. “Yeah, yours is big, Andy, but this guy was huge.” Her hands start to measure it out, but then she changes her mind. “You don’t need to know that. What can I say? I was curious. But it was a really bad idea. The guy was an arsehole. He went too deep and he hurt me. I didn’t like it and I wanted him to stop and he kept going. He was basically raping me at the end. ARSEHOLE!”

Her face is suddenly flushed with anger as she relives what was obviously a horrible experience. Then she looks at me. “He made me bleed, Andy.” She looks worried. “I think he might have done some permanent damage.”

“Isn’t it normal to bleed the first time?” I’m trying to reassure her, not exonerate him.

“Yeah, a little spot of blood. But not this. He made me bleed for four days!”

Rage suddenly rises up in me and I want to kill this bastard who raped my girl.

“What’s his name? Where does he live?” Jo can read my feelings.

“It’s no use, Andy. He was on tour. He’s gone back to America. But thanks anyway.” She snuggles up to me on the couch. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” I feel sorry for her and I give her a big hug. As I hug her the rage dissipates. “I’m glad you feel that way and you want to protect me.” She hugs me back, just as tightly.

We are still hugging when Tabatha appears at the door to the living room. I didn’t hear her come in.

“Isn’t young love sweet?” she says, sarcastically. I have an urge to separate from Jo and pretend that nothing happened, but Jo stays put and just gives Tabatha a stony look. Tabatha blanches under her work make-up. “Where’s Mum?”

“Out the back, gardening.” Tabatha realises she is not welcome and wanders through the room and out into the back garden to speak to Mum. I’m sure that wasn’t her original plan.

Jo and I resume squeezing each other tightly and then, after a brief silence, Jo resumes a conversation that has been continuing in her head.

“. . . so I’m not such a slut after all. Yes, I’ve kissed about 10 boys and I’ve been in their bedrooms, but with most of them we just kissed and no more. And, yes, I might have sucked one or two . . . or maybe three or four, but that doesn’t mean that I fucked them.” Jo is talking with her head resting against my chest. Then she looks up at me. “And I didn’t.”

That doesn’t sound like a question, but Jo seems to be waiting for a response.

“I believe you.” That seems to be what she wanted to hear and she puts her head back against my chest.

“I’m not like Lisa or anything. She’s the biggest slut in the school.”

“Really?” I sound genuinely surprised, because I am. “But didn’t you say she hates the way you talk about boys and sex?”

“And cocks, yeah. But that’s all part of her act. She pretends to be all prim and proper, but she’s not. Last year she had five boys on the go at the one time. Can you believe that? Five boys! And she’s so good at deceiving people that none of them even guessed what was going on. And then she brags about it to your sister. I only know about it because I heard her talking on the phone to Tabatha one time.” She looks up at me again, looking for another response.

“Don’t look at me. Tabatha doesn’t tell me anything. This is all news to me. I mean, they seemed to entertain a lot of boys in our back garden last summer, but they just seemed to be hanging out with friends. I didn’t see them kissing or anything.”

“Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard, they did a lot more than kissing.”

“They?”

“Yeah. My sister might be the biggest slut in the school, but your sister’s not far behind. That’s why I didn’t appreciate her coming in here and making snide comments about us. As if she can talk.”

Just then, we heard the sound of the back door closing and voices. Mum and Tabatha were returning from the garden.

I walked Jo home soon after that. We hugged and kissed good-bye in a way that seemed more meaningful. She had opened up to me about a lot of stuff that afternoon. She obviously felt closer to me as a result. And yet I had not been open with her.

As I walked home, I wondered if I should have told her about Tabatha. It was over. It was in the past. Maybe she wouldn’t care. Just as I didn’t care about the 10 boys she’d kissed.

Maybe she already knew. She should have guessed from what Lisa told her about the Xavier boy.

I was still pondering these things as I opened the front door and wandered through the house to my room.

Lisa had been dating 5 different guys at the same time. Fucking them too, by the sound of things. “Biggest slut in the school.” Jo’s words bounced around in my head. “Your sister’s not far behind.” I opened my bedroom door.

“Hello, Andy.”

Tabatha’s voice made me jump. She was sitting on my bed in her white bath robe. Her hair was wet and her work make-up was gone. She’d obviously had a shower.

“What are you doing in my room?” I asked, suspiciously. Ever since she had banned me from her room, I regarded Tabatha as banned from my room. Although, now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember having told her about my triumphant tit for tat.

“Mum’s gone out to a nursery somewhere, miles away. I think she’ll be gone for a while.”

“And . . .”

“Well, I think I owe you an apology . . . and an explanation.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” As I said that, I realised that my former feelings for Tabatha had mostly gone. I didn’t fear her any more. I felt stronger and more defiant. I stood at my full height in the middle of the room. I wasn’t going to make any conciliatory gesture, like sit on the bed beside her.

“You’re entitled to feel that way, but I’m going to explain anyway.” It sounded like I was going to be standing for a while.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Andy, about what happened. And that’s because I haven’t really been completely honest with myself, either. I made you believe that the reason I stopped coming to see you was because you broke the rules. That’s partly true, I suppose.” Tabatha was fiddling with the belt of her dressing gown while she spoke and she now looked down at her hands. “But I told myself that the real reason for putting an end to our arrangement was because I could see that you were falling – I won’t say “falling in love” because that sounds very presumptuous, but – falling for me. And I didn’t want to hurt you, and so I decided that the best thing to do was to end it. But I didn’t do it very well and I probably hurt you anyway and . . .” she looked up at me and looked me in the eyes to show me that she was sincere, “I’m sorry.” There was a tenderness in her face that I had never seen before and I was surprised and embarrassed to feel tears welling in my eyes. I blinked to fight them back. She started blinking herself and looked down at her hands again.

“I couldn’t say anything or apologise at the time because that would have just made things worse. The reason I’m telling you now is that you’ve obviously found someone else and moved on.” She kept looking down at her hands as she fiddled with the belt. I expected her to continue, but she didn’t.

“Well, you were right on all three counts,” I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. The sight of her in that dressing gown, sitting in that pose, on a bed, was bringing back painful memories. “I was falling for you. You did hurt me. And I have moved on.” There was some bitterness in my voice.

“Yes, well, it’s such a comfort to be right.” She looked up at me and tried to smile, weakly. But I was surprised to see that her eyes were filling with tears. “And I’m . . . happy for you.” It looked like it cost her a lot to say that. She looked down again. “I really am.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. “Even though it hurts so much to see you with someone else.” Tabatha’s shoulders started to jerk and I could tell she was sobbing, even though she made no noise. Tears dripped off her cheeks.

This was so unexpected that it crossed my mind that it was all a prank. I got angry at the thought that she was manipulating my emotions.

But then she suddenly leapt off the bed and ran from the room, keeping her head bowed and nearly bumping into me as she passed, leaving me stunned.

Tabatha broke up with me because she was falling in love with me? That was absurd. In the last few months it had never occurred to me that Tabatha felt anything for me other than contempt.

Or, she broke up with me because she could see I was falling in love with her. That made more sense. It was harsh and painful, but it explained a few things. She did seem relieved when I admitted Jo was my girlfriend.

And now she was jealous of Jo? I had hurt her feelings? Really? That didn’t sound right. I had expected her to react badly to me hooking up with Jo. But she didn’t. She seemed fine with it.

I stood in the middle of my bedroom trying to process all these thoughts. I wanted to follow Tabatha and ask her a whole heap of questions. Part of me felt sorry for her and wanted to comfort her. But that would be a betrayal of Jo and it would risk opening wounds that had only just recently healed. Besides, Tabatha had told me never to enter her room again.

I picked up my guitar and played along with some music until Mum came home.

Tabatha didn’t come down from her room for dinner.

I went to bed early.

I lay there, naked, under the doona. I’d stopped wearing pyjamas. I had to take them off to wank and then I was often too tired and sleepy afterwards to be bothered putting them back on. So now I didn’t bother putting them on in the first place. I liked the feel of the sheets against my bare skin. It appealed to my exhibitionist streak to sleep in the nude.

But there was a problem with the usual program of entertainment that night. Over the last few months, I had fantasised about make up sex with Tabatha – or revenge sex, depending on our interactions that day and my mood. But that didn’t work tonight. And when I started to wank to thoughts about Jo, I felt guilty about Tabatha. I had started to masturbate out of habit, but now I realised I wasn’t in the mood. I rolled over and went to sleep.

I woke with a start in the middle of the night. There was someone in bed with me. Someone naked and soft and warm. I knew instantly it was Tabatha. I don’t know why. It was dark and I couldn’t see. Perhaps it was the familiar smell of her hair. I think I might have been dreaming that I was cuddling into her. But I was startled by the realisation that it was not a dream and that she was there. She was warm enough to feel like she had been there for a while and yet I had not been aware of her getting into my bed or being there before now.

She had her back to me and my erection was resting in the cleavage between her warm buttocks. She must have nestled them against me in my sleep. I was painfully hard. It felt more like a crowbar than a penis. I only ever seem to get that hard at 3am in the middle of the night.

“Are you awake?” Tabatha’s voice was low and tentative. She was still facing away from me.

“Yes. What are you doing here? How long have you been here?” She rolled over to face me.

“About an hour. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Have you tried milk and cookies?”

“Very funny.” She snuggled into me. I tensed, defensively, at first. But her breasts pressed warmly against my chest and my erection pressed hotly against her warm stomach. I relaxed and she put an arm around me and kissed me. “I wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. But I got such a warm reception . . .”

The rush of adrenalin that woke me up was fast dissipating and I felt heavy and sleepy again. This always happens with my 3am erections. It seems too good to waste, and I start to masturbate, but then I fall asleep again before I’ve finished – often into a dream where my cock is so big that I can suck myself off. I love that dream.

“Andy?”

“Whah . . .?”

“Are you falling asleep again?”

“Too tired . . . .to fuck . . .”

“Really?” She sounds mildly offended. “We’ll see about that.”

The nurse is trying to get me to roll from the bed onto the gurney. But the general anaesthetic has paralysed by limbs and I can’t move. Then I realise that the nurse is straddling my hips and resting her hands on my chest. No wonder I can’t move.

“Oh my God, Andy. You seem bigger than I remembered.” Tabatha’s voice interrupts my dream and the hospital scene fades to black as I open my eyes. I wince as Tabatha bends back that painful erection that doesn’t want to bend. She is supporting herself with one hand that is pressing into my chest and the other hand is gripping my shaft and directing it to her entrance. I can feel her shifting her weight onto one knee and raising herself higher on the other foot while she tries to fit me between her legs. The tip of me kisses her puffy wet lips. She uses my stick to plough back and forth a few times between her pussy lips – to separate them and spread her lubrication and mingle it with my pre-cum. All I can think is, if she’s this wet on the outside, what’s it going to be like on the inside?

“Oh my God, you’re so wet, Tabatha.”

“Well, you’ve been grinding this thing into my butt for the best part of an hour. What do you expect?”

She ploughs the head of my cock forward through her lips one last time, pausing at the end to rub my frenulum against her clit. We both groan. Then she pushes me back until I engage with her tight little hole. She tests a few times with her weight and then . . .

“Ohhhhhhh!” we moan in unison as she slides slowly down me for the first time. Tabatha puts her raised knee back down and straddles me on all fours. She settles nicely on my hips and I can feel myself far up inside her. Then she squeezes me with her strong vaginal muscles.

“Oooh your pussy feels nice and tight.”

“Can you feel that? I’ve been doing my pelvic floor exercises.”

I grab at her hips and waist in the darkness as she rides up and forward, back and down. Her pussy feels better than before. In my half sleepy state, it doesn’t occur to me to think why. I just know that it is.

She rides slowly and carefully and wriggles at the bottom of each slide. I feel myself go balls deep. It feels like she wants my cock to go that extra centimetre deeper, but then I realise that she is grinding her clit against my pubic bone. Her wet lips slobber all over my scrotum.

My muscles still feel heavy and tired and I’m glad she’s doing all the work. There is something teasing and slightly unsatisfying about not being in control and not driving my cock into her. I try to push my hips up to meet her thrusts a few times, but the effort makes me lapse into unconsciousness with exhaustion. I feel like I am hallucinating. I see colours and stars in the darkness. I am so tired.

I spread my hands over her lovely thighs and grab her ass as she raises and lowers herself. If I was in control, I would be thrusting faster by now. But Tabatha maintains a slow, grinding pace that is almost hypnotic in the dark. Finally, I just relax and let her do what she wants with me. I am not fucking her. She is fucking me.

That simple act of relaxing and letting go seems to allow even more blood to flow into my cock. I can feel the eye of my cock flaring open deep inside Tabatha’s pussy and a heavy flow of pre-cum pulses out of me like a mini orgasm.

Tabatha stops to grind herself on me for longer than usual. Her breathing sounds desperate. The head of my cock feels high and dry in some space at the other end of her vagina. It feels impossibly deep. I imagine that I am in her uterus and that my semen will squirt directly onto her ovaries. My whole body stiffens behind a squirt that is almost painful. My hips buck, but Tabatha is still grinding against me and she stifles my thrusts in a way that makes the second and third squirts as intense and desperate as the first. I am clutching her thighs and I realise that they are shuddering in my grip. Without knowing what’s happening, I am instinctively turned on even more and we hold our hips together as I keep blasting my cum deep inside her. We are gasping and grunting together in a way that seems too loud for 3am.

When it’s over, she collapses hot and sweaty on my chest, which heaves under her as I try to get my breath back. She is panting too. Her little body feels light on mine. My cock is spent, but stays hard inside her. There is a God-awful mess oozing back out of her and down over my balls. We are too exhausted to move or do anything about it. Only now does it occur to me that I just fucked my sister without a condom. But as we lie there in the darkness, my heart pounding against hers, but slowing, and her breast heaving against mine, but easing, my body slips silently from the frenzy of orgasm into the stillness of sleep, with my little sister asleep on top of me.

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