Gina’s Birthday Sex

The kitchen was bright compared to the rest of the house, the overhead light glowing down against pale cabinets and the speckled countertop. A bowl of snacks and half-empty glasses cluttered the space, the casual mess of a small birthday gathering. The hum of faint music drifted in from the living room. The four of them clustered close in the light.

Gina perched on a tall stool by the counter. Her shorts left her legs bare from the hem of her tight denim shorts to the tops of her sneakers. The shorts clung to her hips, cut high enough that the curve of her butt was on full display. Her cropped white tank top left her stomach bare. So low cut that one wrong lean forward might spill her breasts into view. She fidgeted with the hem as though aware of it, her hair falling over her shoulders in soft, loose strands.

Laszlo stood close to her. One hand on the counter, the other shoved into his pocket. He was tall but not imposing, his frame lean under a plain t-shirt and jeans. His dark hair was neatly cut, though he’d run his fingers through it so many times it stuck up in places.

Marc leaned back lazily against the fridge, arms folded, his loose basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. The thin cotton did nothing to hide his arousal, a bulge pressing forward each time he shifted. His tank top showed off his broad shoulders and solid build, not sculpted but strong in a casual, athletic way. He smirked more than he smiled, eyes roving freely over Gina and Dahlia both, as though nothing about his interest needed hiding.

Dahlia was the opposite of Gina’s nervous energy. Where Gina tugged at her clothes, Dahlia flaunted hers. Her little black dress clung like a second skin, thin straps slipping carelessly down her shoulders, the short hem rising so high her bare thighs gleamed in the kitchen light. With no panties beneath. Any bend or careless movement showed everyone this fact, something she seemed not to care about in the slightest. Her black hair fell straight and sharp around her face. Her lips were painted glossy red, her grin constant. She drifted from one person to the next, never standing still long, fingers grazing an arm here, a shoulder there, like she needed to be touching someone at all times.

Gina leaned forward to grab a bowl from across the counter. Her top strained, the neckline sagging until the swell of her breast spilled free. She caught it with a startled laugh, tugging the fabric back into place with both hands.

“Oops,” she giggled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess this top wasn’t made for leaning.”

Dahlia’s grin widened as she passed behind her, hand trailing casually over Gina’s bare thigh before she snatched the bowl for her. “Careful, birthday girl, or you’ll make the guys hard.”

Marc chuckled, the sound low and smug. “Not that anyone here would complain.” His eyes lingered openly on Gina, flicking down her top before she looked away.

Laszlo shifted beside her, posture stiffening. He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscle in his jaw flexing, but he said nothing. Dahlia, sensing his tension, moved behind him instead. She leaned against his back to reach something from the counter, her chest pressing deliberately into him.

“You’re all stiff, Laz,” she teased in a sultry whisper, her hand brushing his arm as she drew away. “Relax. It’s a party.”

Marc didn’t give him time to answer. He slid past, circling behind Gina where she sat on the stool. His hand landed suddenly on the curve of her denim-clad butt, squeezing firmly. Gina gasped in surprise, half laughing as she glanced over her shoulder, but she didn’t push him away.

Laszlo’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Marc—”

Gina reached for his arm quickly, her hand warm and trembling against him.

“It’s fine,” she said softly, almost pleading. “Don’t… It’s okay.”

He swallowed back whatever he was going to say, his hand curling into a fist at his side, cheeks hot with jealousy and restraint. Marc’s grin only widened, his hand lingering another second before Dahlia hip-bumped him playfully, pulling his attention back to her.

“You’re bad,” she said with a laugh, sliding onto his lap without hesitation. His hand disappeared beneath the short hem of her dress, her gasp sharp but amused as she smirked at Gina and Laszlo across the counter. “But some things,” she added, eyes glittering, “are worth being bad for.”

Laszlo’s breath caught when Marc’s fingers clearly teased higher beneath Dahlia’s dress, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably, torn between annoyance and arousal. Gina, red-faced, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again, chewing her lip as her eyes darted between the bold couple across from her and Laszlo’s protective silence.

The kitchen was warm now, too small for the four of them, and the electricity in the air. Dahlia shifted on Marc’s lap, her black dress riding scandalously higher, exposing her smooth hip. His hand was still under the fabric, moving in slow circles that made her lips part, though she kept her voice light.

“So,” Dahlia said suddenly, turning her head toward Gina with a sly smile. “You still want to do that thing we talked about a few days ago?”

Her tone was playful, but the way her body tensed for a heartbeat betrayed how hard she was working to keep composure. Her lashes fluttered once as Marc’s fingers slid deeper, and her hand clutched the countertop behind her for balance. Gina’s cheeks went pink instantly. She straightened on her stool, legs pressing together, eyes darting from Dahlia to Laszlo.

“Y-yeah,” she said softly, almost a whisper. Then stronger, after a swallow: “Yes. I still want it.”

Laszlo’s brows lifted. “Want what?”

Marc chuckled, low and mocking. “Yeah, what’s this secret the girls have been scheming about?” His free hand tapped lazily against Dahlia’s thigh, completely unapologetic.

Dahlia tilted her head, letting her dark hair fall forward, her lips curving. “Mmm… nothing important.” She leaned closer to Gina, lowering her voice conspiratorially but loud enough for the guys to hear. “Just… birthday things.”

Gina bit her lip and giggled nervously, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “Special birthday things,” she echoed, eyes flicking toward Laszlo before skittering away.

“Special and secret?” Marc smirked. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

Laszlo gave Gina a gentle look, his voice steady though his hand curled tight on the counter. “Is this… sexual?”

Dahlia’s breath hitched suddenly. A sharp little squeak escaped her lips, her body shivering visibly as Marc’s hand stilled beneath her dress. Her head tilted back for a moment, lips parted, before she forced her eyes open again.