He had broken every rule. Except one. He had never taken a girl to their place.

It was May 2017. A mere six months ago John and Z had set rules. John would do all in his power to become a succesful womaniser, but he had to respect certain limits.

Now he was buried in the hair and naked flesh of two best friends. Ludmila (28) and Katarina (31).

He had been succesful beyond his wildest dreams, but he had ignored all rules. Except the one he knew would end everything forever.

It was 2.45 am. The girls were asleep. Ludmila was breathing heavily. Katarina was snoring, it was barely audible, but she was. When they had been going down on each other, they had moaned louder than you’d think women can moan. John thought that was a common feature of threesomes. The girls go wild when they have their tongues on each other’s clit. In the end, men are not beautiful, only women are. And both women and men know this.

His phone kept buzzing. He was afraid it would wake up the girls. He had his right arm stuck under Katarina’s back. His nose was pressed against Ludmila’s neck. The scent of two, sweaty girls, the aroma of blended bodily juices. There was nothing like it.

Nothing could dislodge John from this position. Just this. The sound of his phone. Z going crazy because he wasn’t home. She’d have cramps. She’d be running to the toilet. She would never be able to sleep unless he got home.

What would he tell her? The truth or a clever lie? If he told her the truth, she’d suspect there was far more to the story than he was willing to share. If he lied, she would know, but she might give him the benefit of the doubt. To keep the peace. To keep the bond. To have business as usual. And peace.

He extracted himself from heaven. All that a man desires. A blonde and a brunette. One petite, one tall. a pair of short, but strong, athletic legs, with bulging muscles. And long, slender thighs, with a gap, so smooth and frail looking, that you want to ram her gently and then go all out, that sweet, vulnerable, feminine body opening itself to you. Delivering itself to you. Screaming to be devoured. The intimidating, threatening Viking girl and the classy Parisian. They were both Slovak, but still, the comparison was fitting.

Neither said a word, when they saw him putting on his clothes. He suspected they were glad to get extra space. It was a bed meant for one person.

He rushed home. He ran home.

All the while thinking, panicking, wishing things could be different, that he could have it all.

The truth or the lie?

The lie or the truth?

A war with the potential of an honest peace treaty?

Or a semblance of fake peace and relative harmony?

Those are questions that are hard to answer.

Especially when you’re a little drunk, after three ejaculations, and a painful jaw from a spirited attempt to lick two women to the orgasm of a life time.

He rubbed his face with his handkerchief.

She’d smell them on his beard.

The irony? She was the only one who would instantly believe what had really happened this night.