Yuna picked up speed, working frantically now, almost desperately.
The clock on the wall kept ticking. Makoto could feel the pressure building inside him, that familiar throbbing that ant he was close. He was completely at her rcy.
He managed to hold on for three more minutes before his body gave in.
His hips bucked forward as he ca hard, filling her mouth with everything he'd been holding back. His pent-up, thick, hot cum filled up her eager mouth.
"Damn, you're good at this, Yuna," he grunted, feeling suddenly weak. His knees wobbled.
Yuna's throat moved as she swallowed quickly, trying to keep up as he flooded her mouth.
Her eyes had been squeezed shut, but now they opened wide and looked a bit dazed. A thin line of cum escaped from the corner of her lips, white against her flushed skin.
She pulled back with a wet gasp, breathing hard. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately, watching him the whole ti.
The taste was salty and tallic on her tongue, and she knew she'd rember it.
"Of course I am," she said, her voice rough and low. "Practice makes perfect."
She checked the oven tir; four minutes had passed.
A wicked grin spread across her face, triumphant.
"See?" Her voice ca out too loud, too cheerful. "I told you that I could do it in five."
She stood up, wobbling slightly, with a satisfied little smirk.
"Now," she purred sweetly, dangerously. "Get dressed. And try to act like you haven't just been serviced by your little stepsister in the kitchen."
She walked out, swaying her hips more than necessary.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Makoto groaned in defeat. "Fine, fine." He yanked his pants back up quickly.
"You should go and rinse your mouth before you open the door, so it doesn't taste like cum. Or not. I don't know." He shrugged. "Mika might be innocent enough not to recognize that, I suppose."
Yuna stopped in the hallway, her back still turned to him.
She stood completely still for a mont. Then she turned around slowly, and a predatory grin spread across her face.
"Oh, I'm not rinsing my mouth," she said, sounding amused. "In fact..."
She walked back toward him, hips swaying with manic energy. She grabbed his chin hard, her fingers digging in painfully.
"I'm going to kiss her," she whispered, her voice rough and broken. "Right on the lips. A big, wet, sloppy kiss."
She leaned in close. Her breath was hot and slled like him.
"And you're going to watch," she growled quietly, dangerously. "And you're going to like it."
She let go of him and moved away quickly, gracefully.
"Now," she said, too loud again, too cheerful. "Let's go and greet our guest, shall we?"
She walked to the door, her footsteps sharp and angry against the floor.
Makoto called after her frantically. "You're crazy! I dare you to do that! Don't bla if she runs away!"
He shook his head, feeling both horrified and darkly excited as he waited for the cookies to finish baking.
When Yuna opened the door, Mika practically bounced inside. "Hi! Am I late? I brought so snacks!"
Mika held up a bag full of convenience store treats, her smile bright and infectious. She wore a cute sundress that made her look like the perfect girl next door.
Yuna's answering smile showed all her teeth. "You're right on ti," she purred, stepping aside.
Mika spotted him in the kitchen, and her smile got even bigger. "It slls amazing in here! Are those the cookies you were talking about?"
"They are," Yuna humd sweetly, dangerously. She closed the door slowly, deliberately.
She stepped right in front of Mika, blocking her path to the kitchen. "Welco to our ho,"
And then she did it. She leaned in and kissed her. Not a friendly peck. A full, open-mouthed, wet kiss. Pure territorial aggression.
Mika went completely rigid. Her eyes flew wide with shock, confusion, and sothing else Makoto couldn't quite identify.
When Yuna pulled back, grinning triumphantly, a strand of saliva still connected their lips for a second before breaking.
"He tastes good, doesn't he?" Yuna whispered.
For a long mont, Mika just stood there. Her fingers ca up to touch her lips lightly as understanding dawned on her face.
The sweet, innocent girl from the hallway seed to dissolve. Sothing sharper took her place. A slow smile spread across her face, devastating in its implications.
Makoto's brain finally rebooted. He rushed forward, trying desperately to smooth things over. "Ah, don't mind her! Maybe she was a bit high from all that chocolate tasting."
His laugh ca out forced and too loud.
Mika looked from Yuna's triumphant face to his mortified one. "Oh, I don't mind at all," she said quietly. "It was... educational."
She walked past Yuna into the kitchen, moving with new confidence.
The whole dynamic had shifted. She wasn't just a guest anymore; now she was a player in whatever ga this had beco.
Makoto grabbed the oven mitts, desperate for sothing to do with his hands. "Co sll these first. We can try them when they cool down."
Mika leaned over the cooling rack and took a deep inhale. "They sll divine." She glanced at him, making him look away in embarrassnt.
"By the way, what kind of snacks did you bring, Mika?" Makoto scratched his head and asked softly.
"Just so pocky and mochi." She turned and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms.
Her gaze moved between Yuna and him, calculating.
"So," Mika said, her smile growing into sothing brilliant and dangerous. "Where do we start?"
Makoto laughed nervously. "Well, we can have Yuna introduce the characters and the costus we're going to be making. She was the one who chose them."
He looked between the two girls, his eyes bright with mischief. "Then we can start helping out, and we can take breaks whenever we feel like it. How does that sound?"
Yuna had been hovering in the doorway like she was planning sothing, but she seed to snap out of her post-kiss haze.
She stalked into the kitchen, clearly reclaiming her territory.
"Fine," she said, her voice tight with barely controlled energy.
She glared at Mika, who was still leaning against the counter with that infuriatingly knowing smile.
"We," Yuna announced, "are making costus from My Dress-Up Darling."
She gestured dismissively at Mika. "You're Marin Kitagawa. The school uniform version. It's easy. You can't ss it up."
Then she turned to him, her eyes glinting with possession.
"And I," she declared, "am making the Shizuku-tan costu. The one that my onii-chan likes so much."
She leaned against him, her hip bumping his, her arm threading possessively through his.
"And he's going to be my personal assistant. He's very... hands-on."
Mika watched without her smile faltering. "It sounds like fun," she said softly.
"But..." Her gaze flicked to the pile of fabric on the dining table.
"There's a lot of black lace in there. Are you sure you'll have enough coverage?"
Makoto chuckled. "Well, we will just have to make do with what we have, then."
He looked at Yuna with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm going to get the sewing machine in your room. You can help Mika with the design and her asurents, then? Let's start with the simple one first."
He quickly walked to Yuna's room, leaving the two beautiful, dangerous girls alone.
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