Scenario

When he pulls her towards him, onto her back, she complies. He kisses the tears from her cheeks and, after his sweet, sensual song ends, he whispers, "I had to give Louise what she needed, to sooth her, to begin her healing, but my semen, my seed, my essence, is only for you. Dear Deborah." Deb melts. As he kisses his way down her body, Deb realizes how aroused she became watching Louise get so thoroughly fucked. Especially now that she knows Emil has saved his cum for her. She is triumphant.

His mouth reaches her vulva. It is in no hurry. Time suspends as his tongue explores her every cranny. The first orgasm sneaks up on her. One instant she is basking in the wonderful feel of his tongue and fingers, of his undivided attention to loving her sex, then the next she is gasping, shaking and thrashing. Emil holds her hips firmly, keeping her still so his tongue can stay on her clitoris. The next two climaxes she knows are coming.

She also knows what is coming as he kisses his way up her body. Slowly. Deb can only think of his cock, hard and ready, looming closer by the second. She wants it, needs it. She knows he's making her wait, teasing, raising her level of desire ever higher. Deb whimpers in anticipation. Emil is her perfect lover.

His legs wedge hers apart and she gasps at the first prod of his penis. Emil is in position, poised above her, centered between her wide-spread thighs, about to push forward, to consummate their joining. Deb glories in feeling so open, vulnerable, and helpless. Deborah, on the other hand, drives her heels into his buttocks as her arms circle his chest and she lunges up against him, impaling herself. They are mated by her decree.

Again his stamina astounds her. This time he does not stop pumping when she comes, just keeps slowly pushing his cock into her, all the way, then sliding it out so only the head is inside her vagina, only to screw it in again. After one of her orgasms, when Deb flutters back down to the plateau, her head turns and she sees Louise watching her, smiling, and only then realizes that Louise's hand is on Deb's breast, kneading, thumbing her nipple. Deb comes again.

Finally it's too much, way too much. She tries to hold Emil fast, to still his hips, but he is a force of nature, indomitable. Desperate, she finally begs, "Please, Emil, no more. I can't. Please come. Fill me."

"Of course, my Deborah. Whatever you want. Always." He thrusts faster. She can't come again, but when he does she clenches her vaginal muscles over and over in sync with his throbs, milking him dry.

*****

The sun glaring around the edge of the curtain in her bedroom window bites Deb's eyes. It's late morning. Her head throbs, stung by stingers. She is alone in her bed, and her head shakes in utter disbelief as she remembers. Was it all real? Was the sex with Emil really that fabulous? Did Emil really fuck Louise, right here, while I watched? Did I actually come with Louise licking my clit?

The bout between shame and incredulity is itself obliterated by the vivid image, the remembered sensation, of Emil's penis piercing her, pounding into her ceaselessly. Her vulva throbs and she feels its lips are swollen. Are they bruised? She reaches down and sparks fly through her when she touches herself. She's aroused, her pussy lips engorged, and her cunt is flooded, swamped in cum. So much. Pride washes over her as she remembers how she drained him, at how he - so powerful, commanding, so infinitely virile - lowered his head to her shoulder, shuddering, moaning, surrendering, as she felt his penis distending, ejaculating over and over and over, obeying the clenches of her vagina as she sucked out his all.

The smell of bacon wafts in. She is suddenly famished. Deb hears the shower running in the guest bathroom as she dons her white terry cloth robe and staggers slightly - the muscles of her inner thighs are sore, overtaxed - as she enters the kitchen. She nearly swoons at the sight of Emil, wearing only his boxers, his powerful torso exposed, the one that fell onto her, crushing her breasts between them, when she made him come just hours ago.

He is making an omelet and fruit salad. Coffee is ready. Of course he's cooking; he's perfect. He sees her and she envisions a tiger pouncing as he rushes her, snatches her into the air, light as a feather, kissing her, exclaiming, "Deborah, beautiful Deborah! Good morning. This lovely day just became all the more so due to your presence." She is ecstatic. He seems to be real, not some impossible dream she had conjured.

As he pours her coffee the first cloud shades her joy. Louise must be in the shower. She's still here. Emil still fucked her in Deb's bed, right in front of her, just hours ago. Even if he didn't come, saved his semen for Deb, he still fucked her.

Emil sees the shadow and asks, "Deborah, what is wrong? You seem concerned."

"Louise is still here? What is happening with her, with us? I felt we connected, but you fucked her last night, right in front of me."

"Ah, I see. Let me explain. Louise is very troubled now. She is by nature a submissive, always requiring someone to tell her what to do. That need not be a major, fatal flaw, but now her susceptibility is exacerbated. Vince hurt her gravely, physically and emotionally. She was, still is, very vulnerable, in real danger. If an unprincipled dominant were to find her she could be in real peril. I sensed her need, how defenseless she was, when she kissed me so desperately in the parking lot last night. I stepped into the dominant role temporarily, to protect her, to comfort her, to guide her back, to fill her need to be controlled."

"And that required that you fuck her?"

"Yes. She is completely imperiled now. She must regain her sense of self-worth, to feel she is desired, useful, appealing. For her Dom not to have sex with her would have been the ultimate rejection, made it clear that she was not valued, not desired, not useful. Fucking her was the only way to give her that affirmation, the ultimate ratification, that sense of being valued. So I did it. However, I saved my semen, my life essence for you, Deborah, the woman I truly want and desire."

Deb realizes that she always has sensed that Louise is malleable, has always had a man, a domineering man, around. But still... "And you had to fuck her right in front of me?"

"I will keep no secrets from you, Deborah. Ever. Would it have been better had I taken her to another room? Would that not have seemed surreptitious, sneaky? I'm very sorry, truly so, if I have hurt you by my actions. Perhaps you can take over, become the temporary dominant that Louise so needs. Please forgive me. If you but say the word I will abandon Louise to her fate. Right now, or whenever you wish."

Deb realizes she can no more cast Louise out than Deb herself can become her dominant. Emil is correct. "I suppose you're right, Emil, I know she is insecure now. It's all right, you should continue to help her. But will you have to have sex with her again? That was hard for me."

"I must provide her with what she needs now, but I sense she is already better, stronger today. And again, I will sever all contact with her, whenever you wish."

Knowing that it is possible Emil will again fuck Louise, that he answered yes, or at least maybe, but also that he will reserve his semen for her, when he leans close - she tingles as she smells his skin, with traces of her own sex on it - she kisses him and feels passion rekindle inside her. Although she accepts Emil's explanation, she wonders why her life need be so complex. Why her devotion to her friend, and her intense attraction to this new man she fervently hopes will be in her life now, resulted in what could only be called an orgy, a ménage a trois? With her having an orgasm to Louise's tongue.

Louise emerges wrapped in a terry robe. Despite her wet hair she seems fresh, vivacious, very sexy. Damn, she had just as many stingers as I did. How can she look so great? When their eyes meet Deb flushes and Louise's drop to the floor. They are both remembering all that transpired last night.

"Ladies, please sit. We must have nourishment. We leave for the lake in an hour." Emil's voice is buoyant, effervescent, and the gloom that had been seeping into the room is dispelled. The Black Trumpet mushrooms, fresh chives, chopped bacon, and shredded extra-sharp white cheddar make Emil's omelet simply delicious, and, though made with all dozen eggs, nary an ort survives the ravenous carnivores that attack it. The same ruinous fate befalls the fruit salad.

During the meal Emil decrees that to truly seize this most beautiful of days they must go to the water, to the special place he knows on Lake Monroe. He will procure the picnic when he takes Louise to her place - might Vince still be lurking? - to pack a bag. They'll be staying the night in a lodge at the lake. Both women should wear their skimpiest bikini, as Emil craves not only seeing their beauteous forms but also the envious looks that will be plastered on all other men's faces. It's settled.

*****

"Oh Yes! Faster, Deborah," Emil whoops in her ear as Deb heels the Impala through yet another tight turn. The 400 horses roar as they respond to her whims instantly, and the wind rushing through her hair, the beauty of the isolated back country road that Emil insisted they take, and his fingers dancing on her bare inner thigh, hardly an inch from her vulva, all have Deb thrilled.

She does her best to concentrate, as not crashing requires she dispel the image from the previous night of his penis endlessly plowing into her. She cannot help but be aware that Emil's other hand is under the crotch of Louise's bikini bottom, but she doesn't care. The wild abandon Emil incites in her is too much fun, consuming, and, besides, she knows that when it again comes time for fucking, Emil will empty inside her.

When they near the lake and have to slow down, the rush of wind ebbs and Deb hears Louise's moans and gasps. She is coming. Deb realizes she herself is very aroused and envies Louise her climax. Why did Emil chose her to drive, to have to stay in control? "You're next, my darling Deborah. Soon." Emil's whisper in her ear sends further chills down her spine and her vulva still tingles as she parks the Impala, raises the roof and locks the doors.

A sailboat!

The Lido 14's hull is red and the deck is pristine white. As Emil stows the cooler and the other bag Deb and Louise unpack the sails and assist in raising them. Emil makes seven unnecessary turns, demandingly coaching until his crew snaps to, changes sides ducking under the boom, and trims the jib with alacrity at his, "Ready about, hard alee!" commands. His last order, "Apply the sunscreen, liberally, ladies," draws rolled eyes from Deb and a sarcastic, very ironic, "Yes, master," from Louise.

After Deb pours the gin and tonics from the large thermos, everyone relaxes. The day is perfect, just enough wind, cloudless and sparkling. The lapping of the small waves on the hull is hypnotic and Deb, still high from the speed and Emil's teasing fingers, lapses into a blissful haze.

"Ahoy mates, prepare for landing." Emil's good humored command pops Deb's eyes open to see they have entered a small J-shaped cove. She has no idea where they are, or even how long they have been on the water. She doesn't care.

Emil pulls up the keel board, beaches the craft on the sand, and drops the sails. Deb scans the vista and realizes they are hidden from the rest of the lake and surrounded by thick, deciduous forest. Very private. The women arrange their towels on the strip of south-facing sand, Emil's between theirs per his wish, while Emil unloads the case and the cooler, and refreshes the G and Ts. Deb is surprised to find herself hungry again after such a substantial brunch. After the repast - pasta salad, BLTs with too much crisp lettuce (is that even possible?), and red cabbage coleslaw - Deb knows that they all need a nap. At least she does. After Emil prescribes more sunscreen, prompting a tart, "Yes, daddy," from Louise, Deb surrenders again to the heat, the lapping of the waves on the nearby hull, the distant bird calls. She lets go.

*****

The dream is derivative. It is last night. Fancifully, Emil's penis has shrunk, become flexible, and has three heads. Each one is probing, instead of fucking, Deb's pudendum, exploring every fold and recess. She wakes to the feel of his tongue in her ear. It's his fingers that are inside her and the high level of tension, of arousal, from the drive to the lake floods back. She begins to writhe, to push herself against his hand. "Lie still, Deborah. Just let it happen." Emil's whisper is sensuous, commanding, compelling, so of course she does.

As best she can. She really cannot help but whimper elated sighs, and thrash just a bit as the heat consumes her. The slurping she hears is drowned out by the roar in her ears as every nerve ending, so long wanting release, fires in sequence, searing every cell of her body. At the end she elevates off the sand, driving his fingers further into her.

After his fingers have stilled, allowing her to gradually become aware again, the slurping is back. When Emil's fingers again begin to move, to summon forth another climax, Deb raises her head to see the blonde mop bouncing up and down, capturing, then releasing Emil's erection. Her instinct is to object, to cry out, "No, his cum is mine!" but her second orgasm is more powerful than the first, so massive that she cannot control the convulsions that knot her muscles, render her incapable of anything but gasping and crying out her completion. She moans loudly as her back arches, her calves, thighs, and abdomen clench, her mouth forms an oval, her eyes role back and close, and the wrenching waves that emanate from her pussy electrify her entire body.

The fog of feeling is so dense that Deb is only dimly aware as Emil hugs her to him, kisses her, then guides her head down his abdomen. "Yes, Deborah, suck out my semen, swallow it. It is yours." A large purple probe emerges from the haze and she automatically opens, taking it in. It is harder, fleshier, wider than expected and tastes of musk, sweat, Louise's saliva. And Emil. She wants it so badly she miscalculates, and must pull back, gasping and choking. The coughing fit passes and her hand strokes his clamped scrotum as she again draws his cock into her, licking, sucking, urging. Demanding.

There is SO much cum. The first spurt floods the back of her throat - she swallows instinctively, desperately - just as the next eruption squirts off the top of her palate. It's hot and salty, thick, and though she has never particularly liked the taste or consistency of semen, today it is perfect and she keeps sucking and swallowing ravenously until his penis still distends and throbs to each lick, but no more fluid is expelled.

When she finally releases his softening member and turns to be rewarded by the satisfaction in his face she can't see it. Her eyes are drawn inexorably to Louise's bare pussy, her labia majora astride Emil's mouth. She is trembling, moaning, and thrashing, hardly able to maintain her mount on his head. The throb in Deb's vagina blots out everything, and she turns back, sucks Emil's penis back into her mouth and gently nurses on it, drawing out the last dribbles of cum.

When he rolls forward, pulls her up and kisses her, Deb tastes Louise's sex and licks it off his lips and chin.

The three have scarcely come together, Louise also pulled into his grasp, when Emil startles, raises his head, then whispers urgently, "Ladies, put on your suits and cover-ups. Quickly now." His tone - there is danger in it - jolts Deb to instant action and as she pushes her arms through the sleeves of her robe she hears the motor.

Emil has put on his trunks and retrieved something from his case. He directs Deb to use her phone to begin making a video of what transpires, and walks to the edge of the water as the launch draws near. When thirty feet from shore two of the three men leap out and one pulls the boat in further, beaching it. The men eye the women, lustful, predatory grins affixed to their faces. The motor dies and the other man hops out, menacingly whacking one hand with the claw hammer held in the other. They spread out as they approach Emil, who, Deb notes, again evinces the feral posture she saw when he first was looking for Vince. Dread and palpable terror suffuse her, and she puts her arm protectively around Louise when she scurries to her.

Deb can't hear well due to the distance and the waves, but does get snippets.

"... wanna join the party..." Laughter. They're obviously very drunk. "...great party..."

Emil shakes his head, "...private..."

"...always room for more...like to par-tay..." Leering at the women the men draw closer, spreading out, surrounding Emil.

It's too fast. Even from as far away as she is, Deb distinctly hears the sharp crack, sees the man fall, clutching his arm, the one that flailed the hammer at Emil. The head of the second man snaps back when Emil's flying foot crushes his face. The third, rethinking his charge, retreats, hands out, anger tinged with fear marring his visage.

The first man struggles up, grasping the weapon, yelling, "...God damn asshole... fuckin broke my arm...get you." The saw-toothed blade in the second man's hand glints in the sun. He, too, is back on his feet, his other hand covering his face, fingers drenched in the blood spurting from his nose. The third just stands, twitching, the knife in his hand making small circles, his adrenaline demanding action, his brain dictating caution. They close on Emil.

The pistol is small, black, menacing, and leaps into his hand of its own accord when Emil's arm swoops behind his back. The report of the shot into the sand in front of the men freezes them. When Emil calls out to and beckons Deborah, she walks forward, trying to control her shaking hands as she continues to record everything with her phone. She watches the leader's slits of eyes flit from her to Emil and back. His look of incoherent rage and pain dissolves as if bathed in acid to be replaced by fear, then resentful resignation as Emil explains. The whole incident is on video. Video that will be texted to the park rangers and area police. Unless Emil never sees the men again.

When the boat is gone, the sound of the motor faded, Emil takes the women in his arms and pulls them to him tighter than is comfortable as he peers out over the water. He kisses their foreheads, sighing deeply. His apology is profuse. He wanted the affirmation that other men's admiration for the women would grant him. He never anticipated danger.

The consuming relief and thankfulness Deb feels makes her hand tremble as it touches, rubs his chest, and she recognizes exactly the same emotions in Louise's eyes when theirs meet. Holding fast to Emil, Deb is startled when she realizes that the overwhelming, ecstatic sense of deliverance washing over her is being quickly supplanted by waves of even stronger, baser feelings: primordial pride and triumph. Her tribe was attacked, they battled, and her clan, her man, won.

Deb's essence, her soul, deep inside her, rears back its head and bays joyfully that it is time to celebrate, to pay fealty to the gods. By procreating. Deb hugs Emil tightly to her, and seeing Louise mirroring her motions, knows she feels the same. They are bonded; they are sisters.

Sisters whose fingers bump into each other's as they caress Emil's ass inside his bathing trunks. When Deb sees Louise's hand already wrapped around Emil's hardening penis, urging it again to action, she smiles and slinks her own down, taking his swimming shorts with it, then begins coddling his balls. Though always previously tentative, fearing that she might inflict injury, Deb now just follows her instincts, gently squeezing, stroking, loving, cajoling the orbs in her hand to spring to action, to produce more of what she wants. Of what is required.