We had maybe ten minutes.
That was how long it took her mum to drive down to the shops and pick up the fish and chips.
Maybe fifteen, if there was a queue.
Of course, we couldn't rely on there being a queue.
Her fitted t-shirt with its deep V neck that had been teasing me all afternoon was whipped off almost before the door had done with its closing, and her lacy white bra popped open with such force that her small but perfectly formed breasts seemed to quiver with their sudden release. She shucked the now-loose thing off one shoulder, and then decided that was enough worrying about that particular piece of clothing and left it to hang by one arm loop.
'Should i take my skirt completely off?' she whispered, hoping her little brother in the next room wouldn't hear. I wasn't all that worried about the kid. I don't think i've ever seen him look up from his GameBoy long enough to register that other people - non-animated people that he doesn't either control or battle - exist.
'Just pull it up far enough and keep it on,' i whispered back, playing her sexy spy game. 'We'll work around it.'
I liked the idea of working around her skirt. The word "working" made us sound very professional at all this, and "working around" made us sound flexible and experienced.
She kicked off her shoes, flicked her hair, and pulled her skirt up far enough.
She pulled her bra-matching lacy undies aside, rather than down. It felt illicit, the whole thing, and the sight of her undies pulled aside made it moreso: exposing her most secret place, and yet holding in reserve the chance to cover it up again at a moment's notice.
Last weekend a scene strikingly similar to this had been played out in my bedroom in the bungalow, and her most secret place was just as i remembered it from then: meaty and totally nude. Not a hair to be seen. I reached down and placed my fingers gently on those familiar, meaty, totally nude lips.
One day i'd tell her i preferred pussies with a bit of foliage.
Not a good idea to bring that sort of thing up at the moment, though. She'd just be all inquisitive about what i meant by "preferred". She'd want to know how many pussies i'd been associated with, to have become such a gourmand.
I could do without those sort of questions.
I dropped my jeans and pushed down my boxers, not bothering to remove my own shirt since i didn't have breasts and we only had eight and a half minutes left. My dick was ready, and i watched to see her expression when she clapped eyes on it.
She was distracted, though, mindful of her little brother, and fretful of her mother, a woman representing at least three kinds of hell, swooping around out there with a bootful of battered carbohydrates and a furious suspicion we'd be doing some heavy petting on the couch.
'Are you ready?' she asked, still in that conspiratorial whisper.
'What do you think,' i asked conspiratorially right back, still waiting for her to latch her eyes onto my manhood.
It was something i was quite proud of, that tube of flesh.
She glanced down at me. She'd seen it all before, her eyes said; she was eighteen, after all. There wasn't time for praise and male-ego-buffing.
She took hold of my cock like it was a handle and dragged me around so i was positioned kneeling on the bed between her thighs. With the expertise of someone who has done it at least twice before, she slid me up and down that meaty gash of hers. She plied open her meaty, nude lips with my knob and socketed me into position.
'OK', she said, like i hadn't been paying attention.
I felt my foreskin slide back as i pushed into her. I watched her face, but her eyes were on the door. I ran out of dick before she changed her expression.
'Do you think he can hear us?'
'There's nothing to hear! We haven't even started yet…'
I have five senses, and, right about then, the sense i was most interested in was touch. I could feel the wet walls of her grippy insides grasping onto the naked skin of my shaft, and i could feel - or imagine i could feel, which is the same thing - the flannel tissues of her interior stroking gently against the bared pink of my exposed glans.
'Do you hear that?' she asked with silent lips.
Her heart was beating so hard i could feel it through my cock.
From the other side of the bedroom door, quiet sounds of possible movement. Maybe floorboards creaking. Air rearranging.
'He's out there, isn't he,' she mouthed.
Neither of us moved. On my part, not by choice. She had reached down and grabbed the small segment of shaft that was still sticking out of her. It seemed like she was planning on pulling me out, should little brother unprecedentedly decide to come into her bedroom when the door was shut.
I shifted my weight a fraction of a thought, because i'd been caught halfway between comfortable positions.
As i moved that infinitesimal amount, the bedsprings squeaked. So loud that i could have sworn i heard an echo.
She looked daggers at me, then her eyes flicked back to the door.
We listened to the silence.
I imagined the fish and chips winging their way closer to us through the dark winter streets.
I imagined GameBoy standing in the hallway with his sweaty hand on the doorknob.
Any number of things could be about to happen to spoil our moment, but somehow, no matter how vivid the imagined catastrophes were, it seemed to me that nothing was actually going to happen. So i let my mind wander, to fill in the time while she waited for something to happen. It wandered onto a joke a guy at Uni had told me, about how he'd thought "coitus interruptus" was "caught us - interrupt us" the first time he'd heard it.
We'd laughed, then. It had seemed funny, then.
It didn't seem funny now.
Seemed to me that there was something almost sacred in the coupling of two people, the way we were coupled right then. Something sacred, her having chosen me, me having chosen her, and there was no-one in the world, not her mother, not her brother, who should come between us. In fact, if they did, they should be the ones apologising.
Yeah! Fuck yeah!
If we decided to come together like this, who were they…
I thought of her meaty cunt, and me being in it.
'What … the … FUCK are you doing?" she hissed, her eyes wide open, glaring down at the suddenly contentious place where we were connected.
'I'm ejaculating,' i said, not meaning to sound like a smart-arse. 'It's a recognised physiological reaction, in response to this sort of thing.'
Of course, that was the moment when GameBoy called out from the other side of the bedroom door.
'Tanya? Do you know where Mum is?'
'Don't come in, Ty! Just don't come in! Mum's getting the Fish and Chips…'
'Why can't i come in? Are you smoking in there?'
She glared at me as if to say, Are you finished? Then she pulled me out of her, or, more accurately, she pushed her fist down my shaft and into my balls, and i pulled myself out of her.
'Of course we're not smoking! Go wash your hands for dinner!'
'"We're not smoking?" Is your boyfriend in there with you?'
Six months and he still hasn't bothered to learn my name.
'Just wash your hands, Ty…'
The door opened. Unprecedentedly.
Ty had his GameBoy in his hand still, and now, having seen us, he had his mouth wide open.
'Um-maaah…' he said, staring at his sister pulling her lace undies and skirt back into place, hooking her empty bra loop over her shoulder, and at me, kneeling on the bed, my wet cock hanging out, not giving a fuck what the brat saw.
'Hey, mate,' i said casually, sitting back on my heels, 'You don't walk into a girl's bedroom without knocking, all right?'
'I'm dobbing,' Ty said, still staring at the two of us in disbelief.
'You do,' my beautiful girlfriend spat in an ugly voice like a wounded harpy, 'and i'll take all your stinking GameBoy games and smash them with a hammer!'
That gave him pause to reflect, but he still looked to me like a young man who wanted to get his older sister into as much trouble as he could manage, and damn the consequences.
She looked like he was about to get her into trouble for murder.
'Dude,' i said, standing up off the bed, my cock still swinging free. 'You're, what, twelve? So you know what me and Tanya were doing, right?'
He nodded, the hint of a smile flashing about the edges of his mouth, in underneath his outraged morality.
I pulled up my boxers and jeans and walked over closer to him. 'So you understand it's none of your business, and none of your mother's business, right?'
He looked uncertain. 'You shouldn't be doing that to my sister,' he rallied.
'Mate,' i leant forward, my face in his. 'She's your sister, but she's my girlfriend. Do you understand?'
He looked from Tanya to me, still not sure whether or not his advantage had been lost.
'I'm going to fill your sister with my cock, and with my babies if i want, and there's fuck all you can do about it. Do you understand that?'
He looked at me for a long, long time. Maybe three, four seconds.
'I hate you,' he said, embarrassment sapping his indignation.
'I don't care, mate. Now piss off and let me finish your sister.'
I slammed the door after him.
'Next time,' i said, 'my place.'
'What,' she said, 'You mean the cubby?'
'It's a bungalow,' i said, 'and you know it.'