Gezza leaned on the counter. Tara was just a few inches away, her undercut glistening under fluorescent light, her dragon tattoo peeking through her loosely-fitting Ramones tee, its color bright on her freckled collarbone.
Her hazel eyes struggled, the color of her cheeks turned pink, the magic of the Playbook melting her snarkiness into something more appealing, more lustful.
The entrance of Mia had changed the atmosphere,
The heat of the Playbook throbbed in the backpack of Gezza as his heart beat increased.
Mia moved in closer, unnatural desire in her eyes.
She laid her body against him and her body was burning him through her thin top and her vanilla-rose scent was enwrapping him like a spell.
"You hogging all the fun Gezza", She purred the lips of her lips brushing his jaw, her breath warm and sweet.
Then, before he could splutter a response, she kissed him, fierce and deep, her tongue entwining with his in a slow, sensuous tango.
She had soft lips, mint and sugar, and Gezza groaned in her mouth and his hands humped her hips, and the denim of her dress was rough between his fingers.
"Fuck, Mia", he rasped, drawing away, his lips buzzing, his inner perv adoring her as one of his basement pictures.
She grinned her nails scratching his neck and straight through his backbone.
"I can't allow Tara to enjoy you all herself", she mocked, with a low voice, and significant glances at her sister, who stayed paralysed at the counter, the mug falling in a gentle clatter against her hands.
The redness in Tara's face intensified and her freckles glowed, her nose ring blinking in the light, her eyes flitting between them, between her desire to rebel and her attraction from the Playbook.
The very thought of having both the sisters in his grip sent Gezza to full sleaze imagining both of them lying flat against each other, their bodies pressed together, and their gasps in the air.
The fantasy gave the magic of the Playbook, and Tara resisted less, her breath hitching at the next step.
"This messed up", she said, and her voice shook, though her eyes lingered on the lips of Gezza, betraying her.
He smiled, and his confidence rose and he turned towards her, his fingers rubbing against her tattooed collarbone, the flesh warm and smooth.
"You're not bailing now, are you?" he joked, and gave a low rumbling voice, and bent down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, his lips rubbing up along the neck of the dragon, which was inked.
Tara gave a shiver, a little gasp came out, her hands waving over it, then resting on his chest. "You're... trouble," she said, her voice, lacking protest and half imploring, bent into him.
His hands slipped to her hips and Gezza pushed herself back on the counter, pushing the wood, creaking with her weight, and her ripped jeans scratching the surface.
Her shoes hung, one of them slipped down to bang on the floor, and he parted the legs, his fingers against her thighs, the jeans coarse against his hands.
Mia leaned in, her breath burning his ear, her hands pulling at his jeans.
"Let me take care of you," she whispered, dropping down on her knees, pulling him off with a slow, measured stroke of her fingers.
The breath of Gezza was taken by the lips of Mia, warm and slick, her tongue moving slowly and languidly round about in the circles that shook his knees.
The kitchen lost its clarity, the steam of the kettle, the fluorescent hum, were lost by the damp noise of her mouth and his groans of agony.
He bent over Tara and his lips were back on her neck and then lower down, kissing the warm skin of her jeans.
His fingers undid them and slipped under her panties and touched her hotness.
Tara moaned sharply and her thighs tightened her hand round his, nails in his shoulders, digging. "Gezza..."
Her voice was raw she gasped, her body was arching into his touch, and her body was craving him, more and more, the magic of the Playbook had made her need him in spite of the venom she had poured on him.
He slipped down and raised her legs to his shoulder, his lips touching her inner thigh, the scent of her, leather, sweat, and a hint of tea, filling his senses.
She arched back as his tongue was playing at her, slow and intentional, feeling her and tasting her warmth, her taste, and her moans grew louder and louder, and her hands were intertwining in his greasy hair.
"Fuck, you are too good at this", Tara panted, her voice shaking, her dragon tattoo twisting even as her body was twitching.
His inner perv was gleaming at his skin, Gezza delighted in the fact that she had surrendered, and the fact that she had been with his trash-can guy insulted him, which made his victory even more significant.
The tongue of Mia dipped lower, playfully coquettish, stroking his sensitive flesh in a manner which induced a sort of shock in him, a naughty spark, which set him on the brink.
Her lips brushed his butthole and it was a slow, deliberate lick that shook him, his groan was louder than he intended.
"Shit, mia, Tara", his voice groused, his hands clenching on Tara thighs.
Laughing, Mia choked, coy, and her breath warm against him.
"Just to keep you on your toes", she mummerd, as her tongue came back to its evil sport, and each stroke was slow and luxurious, and prolonged his pleasure.
The air was heavy with the combined odors of them, vanilla-rose, peppermint, sweat, and the moans of their breathing, the squeaks of the counter, and the damp beat of their flesh.
Gezza had a haze of lust in his head, and with every touch, every moan, he felt like a god.
What trembled around his shoulder were the shuddering of Tara, her moans reaching their highest pitch, as Mia worked him with excruciating precision with her mouth, their pleasure growing in a slow, burning frenzy.
His fingers worked quicker, her nails tore his shoulders, her gasps were sharp and desperate, as he kissed Tara on the hip.
But when the heat was at its hottest a slight shiver ran along his spine, There was another shock which struck him now less violently than before, but sufficient, as it were, to cause his breath to catch.
And before he could be in thought of it, the voice of Mia came like a sultry, teasing thing.
"You are both having far too much fun, she purred", and she stood and wiped his cum on her lips, and her eyes gleamed with the mischief.
The red-cheeked Tara turned her head to her sister with a guilty expression, although the spell of the Playbook proved too mighty, and she continued to be pressed against Gezza.