Scenario

"Another great song! We must dance!" exclaims Emil, leaping up. He grabs Louise's hand, pulls her up, then does the same to Deb. "My solo!" he announces as he pushes the women together, placing Louise's arms around Deb's waist, and pulls Deb's hands over Louise's arms, onto her back. "It's a slow song, so we must dance close," he directs licentiously as he sets the stereo to repeat. The women obediently shuffle back and forth, watching Emil. Not the toreador, simply the epitome of masculine power and grace. Deb finds her eyes drawn repeatedly to the large bulge in his pants. When she forces them away she notes Louise's eyes likewise fixed. Louise's erect nipples feel like hard thimbles as they slide across the underside of Deb's breasts. Her awareness is drawn to the feathery feel of Louise's fingers, sliding on her back, as if unconsciously massaging that at which she is staring.

When the song ends Emil takes Louise's hand, pulls her close, and Deb hears Louise's long sigh as she melts into his arms. Seeing his eyes on her, Deb, her brain recalling peacocks displaying for each other, undulates carnally, a sensuous Salome, and soon finds her hands touching, caressing her hips, stomach and waist. Emil's eyes slowly move from her hands up to her breasts, dragging her fingers with them until they cup her mounds, tease her nipples. Her inward focus, reveling in the wanton, wild, sinful behavior she would never have dreamt possible, renders Deb unaware of Emil's hands, moving on Louise's back, kneading, going lower, cupping and coddling her ass, pressing her into him. Into his erection.

As the music fades, Emil slowly slides the shoulder straps of Louise's dress off, down to her waist, and guides her arms free. Her entire torso is bare. Louise's breasts sway and bob pendulously as she writhes her solo. Deb melts into Emil, and is lost in his presence, his aroma, his maleness. His hands roam freely, at times capturing her shoulder blades and sliding her breasts across his chest, sometimes feathering her sides and back, not neglecting the cheeks of her buttocks.

Immersed in the sensual haze, Deborah is jolted when she feels fingers lowering the zipper in the back of her dress. She freezes, tenses, and hears Emil's amused sigh as his hands leave her fastener half down and resume their travels over her body. Her head is tucked into his neck and his breath tickles her ear as he murmurs into it. "Deborah, Deborah, Deborah," over and over, his baritone elongating, luxuriating in each syllable, singing his own song of Deborah. The dance ends far too soon, and Deb reluctantly assumes her seat as Emil kneels to adjust the music before sojourning to the kitchen to retrieve the pitcher of stingers.

When all glasses are refilled, restocked with ice, Emil sits, intently staring at Louise's breasts. She demurely begins to raise her hands, to cover them. "No, Louise, your breasts are beautiful. Please don't cover them. It gives me such pleasure to gaze upon them." Her hands drop and she arches, presenting them to Emil. "I truly love women's breasts. All of them, large, small, heavy, light, upturned, drooping, pointing outward, inward, they are all a delight to behold. Deborah, sweet Deborah, may we see your breasts, unencumbered?"

Deb is shocked. Then torn. The situation is too erotic, she is so aroused, that a part of her craves baring them for Emil. To watch his eyes as they feast on them. But the proper part, the conservative, guarded Deb, rebels, feeling things have gone too far and are careening out of control. And sees a way out. "Well, that's easy for you to say, Emil, sitting there, watching us, with all your clothes on. How is that fair?"

Wordlessly Emil rises, removes his tie, and drops it over his suit coat, which he removed before the first dance. He quickly undoes each button, and pulls his shirttail out of his trousers. His shirt drapes over the jacket. Ignoring Louise's loud sighing, Deb strives to control her breathing as her eyes indulge themselves. Truly a Greek god. Perfect. Broad, muscular shoulders and arms, narrow waist, washboard abs, erect nipples crowning powerful pecs. A leaner, more potent Michelangelo's David, come to life.

Deb is unsure whether the flutters she feels in her stomach are from the impact of Emil's naked torso or from her realization that he has just called her bluff. That he will soon, inevitably, again ask her to bare her breasts.

"Great song! We dance!" cries Emil, leaping up, taking Louise's hand and pulling her to him. At one point he turns her, spoons into her backside, and despite being carried away dancing for Emil's eyes, Deb is aware of Louise grinding her ass into Emil's crotch. Again Deb's hands find her breasts and the tingles focus her inward. She is unaware of Emil's hand rising and falling inside Louise's dress. Inside her panties.

Deb does notice Louise stagger slightly when the song ends, before she begins her solo. Secured in Emil's arms Deb is nearly overcome by the scent and heat emanating from him, from the feel of his bare skin against her nipples. The sheer rayon seems no barrier. His breath again tickles her ear, sends frissons throughout her body, as he whispers her name, over and over, singing it, adding praise for her beauty, her allure, her powerful effect on him. How much he wants her. She is aware when his fingers lower her zipper, all the way down, but doesn't even consider objecting.

The song ends and Emil's hands slip under the shoulders of Deborah's shift and slide them to the side. His eyes trace down her chest as she is revealed. Deb blushes massively, and feels the warmth sink from her cheeks to her neck, to her chest. Emil emits a delighted, aroused sigh, and utters, "Perfect!" as her nipples are exposed. Deb sees his joy, his desire, in his eyes, as she feels her blush color her tits. When his hands release it, the shift pools on the belt around her waist. Her breasts and nipples are so engorged they hurt, wanting his touch, his tongue. She shudders and arches back, presenting them to him. She gasps at his first touch and moans as he lightly brushes his thumbs over them, squeezes them between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling. He leads her back to the couch.

Louise is suddenly subdued. Emil sits on the couch between the women, very close to Louise. He brushes Louise's cheek, then pats the couch next to him while looking at Deb. She slides over, close, so their hips touch. His hand raises Louise's downcast chin and turns her head to face him. "Dear Louise, Deborah has removed her panties. Please stand now and discard yours along with your dress." Deb is agog, aquiver with arousal. Will Louise really do this, strip completely, in front of both of them?

Emil stands, offers Louise his hand and pulls her up when she takes it. "Very good, that's right," he encourages as her hands reach up, undo the belt then take the folds of her dress. She wriggles her hips slightly and it slides down her legs. Emil takes her hand and steadies her as she steps out of the garment and black lace panties pooled on the floor.

When she begins to remove her stockings Emil tells her to leave them. She does and seems all the more naked for it.

Deb is rapt, having never seen a woman's shaved pussy. Louise's pink, shiny inner lips are swollen, protruding from the slit of her vulva. Deb feels swept away by all that she is seeing, smelling, experiencing. She is simultaneously avidly eager to discover what comes next and awash with dread of what it might be.

Emil whispers that Louise is so beautiful, so sexy, so alluring, as he feathers his fingers all over her body. When she shudders, overcome, teetering, in danger of falling, Emil takes her hand and sits her down on the couch again. Deb breathes in deeply the bouquet of Louise's sex and Emil's piquant musk.

Deb's trepidation skyrockets as he turns to her. "Deborah," still savoring each syllable, "let our game continue. It is time for you to remove your dress, also. However, I'm certain if I suggest it you will point out that for me to remain clothed would be unfair."

He turns to face the women sitting on the couch and calmly undoes his belt and button, then unzips his pants. He pulls the front of his boxers away from him and slowly lowers them with his trousers. His erect penis lurches out and the spellbound women gasp in unison. It's very large, thick, and hickory hard. It sways as Emil balances perfectly on one foot, then the other, as he removes his shoes, socks, pants and underwear. His eyes burn into Deborah's the whole time. Hers flit from his eyes to his cock and back, then lock on his erection. She unconsciously licks her lips as she hears Louise moaning and sighing. Louise is touching herself.

He extends his hand and Deb robotically takes it and rises. He draws near and she is fixated on the overwhelming aroma of aroused male, the pungent scent obliterating the cologne she smelled earlier. Her knees feel weak, and she thinks, "Oh God, he's going to undress me. I can't..." but she freezes, again at war within. It would be so wrong, forbidden, unthinkable, to be naked in front of Louise. But Deb wants to be naked for Emil. Her craving for the lurid, shameless freedom he offers and the level of passion she has never known paralyze her.

His hands gently loosen her belt and work her shift past her hips. It falls to the floor. He whispers "So lovely, Deborah, you are so very beautiful," as he takes her hand. She steps forward, out of the dress, and he seats her again on the couch. Emil's erection is looming, swaying, inches from her face. She sees her automatous hand rise, approach it, almost on it when...

The lustful moan tugs her eyes to Louise. She is leaning back on the couch, rocking, eyes closed, one hand stroking between her legs, the other squeezing a breast, thumbing its nipple. Deb hears the squishy sounds of fingers pumping a wet pussy. She stares. She has never seen another woman orgasm - it's obvious that Louise is close - and is fascinated.

The sight arouses her even further, but the scenario is interrupted by Emil taking Louise's hands, pulling them from her, standing her, turning her, and pushing her gently onto her knees in front of the couch. He sits, close to Deb, knees on either side of Louise. His fingers embed in her hair, he kisses her lips, her forehead, and gently pulls her head down. To his penis. Deb watches mesmerized, incredulous, as the head of Emil's erection disappears into Louise. "Yes, Louise, get me wet, and harder. Make me ready to fuck Deborah."

Bolts of passion and triumphant fire shoot through Deb. I've won! He's going to fuck me! God, is he going to fuck me right here, in front of Louise? Her eyes flash to his. He holds them and she knows that he is. He slowly pushes Louise's head onto him. When it is down further than Deb believes possible he raises her head. Then lowers it. And up again. Down. Deb simply stares, beyond thought, moving unconsciously, her head bobbing and thighs clamping in sync with Louise's head.

"Deborah, look at me." Emil's command tears her eyes away from his cock, glistening with Louise's saliva. "Spread your legs, Deborah. Show me your pussy." Deb is shocked, rocked, but completely aroused. The same battle plays out within her, but suddenly it's not a fair fight. Her wild compulsion to be wanton now dominates. When he tells the second time she does it.

She sees her swollen, pink inner lips blossom out between the dusky outer labia. "Good. Deborah, your pussy is beautiful," he rewards her. She flushes brighter, happy at his approval and disbelieving her behavior. She throbs as he intones, "I can see you're wet, but my cock is very thick. Get yourself ready for it, play with your pussy, tickle your clitoris. Get yourself even wetter, ready for us to fuck."

When Deb sits immobile, transfixed, again at war with herself - How can I do this? I CAN'T! But I want to - Emil slowly, gently, takes the back of her hand in his. As he guides Louise's head down yet again he moves Deb's hand between her thighs. His fingers curl over hers, pressing them into her vulva and sliding them up and down. "Yes, that's right, Deborah. Continue."

"Louise, you're doing wonderfully. You're pleasing me very much. Use your fingers to rub your clitoris. You can make yourself come now as your reward." Through eyes dimmed by passion and arousal Deb sees Louise's hand leave Emil's thigh and disappear between her legs. Unbidden, her own fingers are now fondling her folds, caressing her clit, invading her vagina, all on their own. Emil's hand leaves hers, finds her chin and turns her face to him. Her eyes crack open and his are black holes sucking her in. Dizzy, her eyes roll back, then close as she feels her orgasm approach.

Despite her ascending arousal Deb is aware how the moaning and sighing from Louise crescendo, and knows when she hears her wailing and gasping that she is coming. Deb is close herself and opens her eyes only to find his waiting, consuming hers again. She is torn away from her impending orgasm by his voice, deep, commanding, "Deborah, take your hand away. Now." She whimpers her frustration - she wants, needs, to come - but obeys. Her hand trembles above her vulva. "Put your fingers in your mouth and suck them." Oh god, she thinks, I can't... But she does.

Louise's motion, melting into a ball on the floor, totally spent from her orgasm, draws Deb's eyes away from the deep grey pools of Emil's. "It's time for us to fuck, Deborah. Don't you agree?" His voice sounds sublimely salacious and resonates through her belly. Her fingers are in her mouth, but she knows her eyes and moans tell him yes.

He stands quickly and effortlessly whisks Deb into his arms, as if she is a toy, a doll. He lowers her onto the armchair, her butt near the edge. He slowly strokes one leg, raising the calf and placing it over the arm of the chair. When he does the same with her other leg, Deb looks down. Her vulva is splayed wide, ripe, the pink lubricious inner lips blooming out between the darker outer labia, rimmed by her dark reddish pubic hair.

She hears lewd moaning and realizes it is her. Deb's eyes lock on his cock, turgid, the head dripping and purple, as Emil positions himself in front of her, moving close. With it poised at her entrance she knows she is helpless - spread wide, completely exposed, paralyzed. She just wants it in her. "Take my penis, Deborah. Guide it into you. Guide my cock into your pussy." It throbs when she touches it, alive, wet, hungry.

The fucking begins. Deborah's head rears back and her breath hisses in when his erection pushes slowly into her, spreading her, and she gasps as his pubic bone meets hers, compressing her clitoris. Her head lolls forward and she watches his cock reappear, then hide inside her again. Her abs curl her body to him as he pushes in. Her chest and shoulders curve down and towards each other, and her neck arches, thrusting her chin forward, each time Emil's cock plows her, spreads her vaginal walls. As he withdraws she uncoils, shoulders, breasts, chest, and head pulled back. Her breasts begin to sway as his penetrations become thrusts, more rapid, and she rocks her hips to him, reveling in the slaps as their bodies meet.

Her reaming goes on forever. It is marvelous. She comes again and again, and each time Emil stops pumping, holds her hips to him firmly until her moaning and shaking abates, and then ever so slowly begins screwing her again. By her last orgasm she is exhausted, a sweating, stammering, shaking rag doll flopping on his rigid pole as it finally empties inside her. She cries out, "Oh Yes!" in triumph as his strokes lose their regular rhythm and she feels his penis distend and twitch, ejaculating over and over.

After Emil withdraws, Deborah lays limp in his arms as he carries her to the couch and reclines beside her. He kisses her gently, lovingly, then coddles her to him. She suspends in blissful post-orgasmic glow.

"Louise, come here," Emil commands. Still in a ball on the floor, she lifts her head, looks at him, devotion flooding her eyes. "Good girl, now come and clean me," he beckons and Louise crawls forward, takes his penis in hand, then into her mouth, licking and sucking the juices from it. "Good, Louise, I'm very pleased." Deb is scarcely roused from her stupor when his hand gently prods her legs apart, and she does not see his fingers embed in Louise's hair, guiding her head.

Deb recoils at the first touch of Louise's tongue on her vulva - NO! This can't... I'm not... - but is frozen by Emil's ardent whispered, "Shush!" and reassuring murmurs. Emil holds Louise's head in place and Deb's consciousness is consumed by the feel of the tongue licking, lapping up both Deb's and Emil's cum. The wrongness, sinfulness, the sense of transgressing all bounds, quickly becomes too much and Emil kisses her eyes, cheeks, and forehead as Deb moans, shakes and thrashes through yet another orgasm.

*****

Blackness.

Where am I? What is that sound? That motion? Deb opens her eyes and knows it is deep night. The faintest trickle of light creeps in through the open door. She rolls to her side and looks. The dim shape rises and falls, rhythmically, over and over. Deb realizes that she is in her bed. And that Emil is fucking Louise. The smallest of sounds, stifled moaning, becomes perceptible and, as her eyes dilate further, Deb sees that Emil is covering Louise's mouth, keeping her silent.

Deb is riveted, torn between anger, sorrow and arousal. Her vagina twitches, still resizing after being stretched by his wide cock. The memory of it all floods her. Am I crazy? How did this happen? What have I done? She recollects how she decided to fuck Emil, seduce him, while they were dancing at Martello's. How together they engineered him coming to her house. How things seemed to be going so well. How she then lost control, how the situation changed. I tried to seduce him. Did he really seduce me? Both of us? Why did I trust him? Yes, that's right; I'd asked Joe, the bartender, after Emil left happy hour, and he told me that Emil had NOT asked about her favorite wine. How could Emil have known that, have been at Kroger's, CVS, Martello's? Fate. It must be. But is it really my fate that I be in bed, MY BED, while Emil, my Emil, my perfect Greek god lover, fucks Louise?

Louise's moans get louder. She's close. Deb can't ignore either the rocking of the bed or Louise's sounds. The pungent scent of sex, from Louise, Emil, from herself, is thick, heavy, suffusing the air. Despite herself Deb watches. Her jealousy and hurt are mixed increasingly with rising passion, with lust, incited by the scene, sounds, and smells. Emil has both Louise's hands pinned with one of his, stretched high over her head. The other covers her mouth.

Louise's head arches further back and her breathing, restricted to her nose, is ragged, almost tortured, rasping in and snorting out with each thrust as she gets fucked. Deb wants, tries to turn away, but can't. She watches Louise squirm, thrash, tremble, and shake as she comes, then realizes Emil is watching her. She rips her eyes away and turns her back to them, feeling the tears begin. He's fucked her! He's not mine. I've lost.

Emil's arms surround her as he conforms to her shape like a spoon mirroring its mate. Deb, devastated, wants to be anywhere else, to die, but his kisses on her neck, his light strokes on her arm, shoulder and hair, preclude any revolt, any escape. Then she feels it. His cock prods her ass. HE'S STILL HARD! HE DIDN'T COME! Emil soothes Deb perfectly, fingers feathering, hands coddling, kisses alternating with mellifluously intoned words she does not understand, except for her name. Greek? It is Emil's song of Deborah again. It feels ancient, timeless, fated. She heals.