She and her brother first stripped.
Then his cock she firmly gripped.
It would be sex, not love,
Either below or above.
Which? A coin had to be flipped.

Heads up, and she’ll have to give head.
But if it’s tails, it’s her pussy instead
Into which he’ll stick
His really hard dick.
Then he’ll spank her until her butt’s red.

In ten days Xander and I will be twenty and then we can finally make love.

“But Nessa, how do we know who’ll be on top?” Xander asks.

“We flip a coin,” I tell him. “Heads I’m on top, tails you’re on the bottom.”

“Oh,” Xander says. “But what if it lands on its edge?”

“Easy, we blow it over.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Xander admits. “But what if the penny doesn’t come down?”

“How could that happen?” I ask.

“A crow could swoop down and snatch it out of the sky,” he says. “Or an angel. Or a flying crocodile.”

“Ha, a flying crocodile!” I exclaim. “Xander, you’re so fanciful. Crocodiles don’t have wings. And even if they did, they don’t eat pennies.”

“How do you know?” Xander asks.

“Good question,” I answer. “How do I know anything?”

“Or what if gravity goes away?” Xander persists.

“Where would it go?” I ask.

“Neverland,” he says.

“Ah, like the crocodile,” I say.

Xander smiles. So happy he is.

“But,” I continue, “making love without gravity would be so cool.”

“It would?”

“Yes,” I declare. “There would be no up or down, no top or bottom, just us.”

Xander nods.

As it is, we pretend-fuck side by side, as always, my soft, newly-sprouted bush brushing his rock-hard bottom, my curious fingertip tracing the seam of his sex, my innocently empty cunt clenching, clenching, clenching, wanting, wanting, wanting the push of his glorious cock, and Grandma-up-in-heaven’s clock ticks and ticks and ticks as we wait for that naughty coin to fall.

Poem by Ashley
Illustration by Mat