They strut around, three awesome female presences, exotically clothed, erotically exposed.

Because, from the rear, the twin roundnesses of their buttocks, their flared hips seem to invite, seem to say, "Approach if you dare!"

And yet, drawn by such arousing exquisiteness, who would not?

And the shadowy moonlight seems to emphasize the white expanses of their exposed flesh.

They are the superwomen of the night. And now, they come together, arms entwined about their shoulders.

Macbeth's witches they are, but beautiful where his were hideous, silent where his were noisy, their incantations those of the body and not of the spoken word.

As they summon within themselves that dark thrill, that shadowy and perverse urge to disport themselves sexually in the darkness over which they rule.

And now, they are on the king-sized bed, breasts, asses, thighs flashing in the moonlight as they form a mystical triangle on hands and knees.

But there is nothing animalistic as mouths, lips and tongues find ass holes and cunts, thrust out, presented for attention.

Because this is a thorough, a calculated licking and rimming they undertake.

They take their time.

There is nothing wild, uncontrolled in their eating of one another.

And now, a dildo is revealed in the hand of one of them, long, thick, double-headed, the moonlight making it the same shade and texture as their living flesh.

And the triangle breaks up, is replaced by a new arrangement, one atop the second, the dildo invisible between them, half shoved into each of their cunts.

As the third one straddles the face of the one below, her ass hole and pussy in the face of the one on top.