As Deanna emerged from the prolonged fog of intoxication Davy had inspired, her heart flipped with empathy when she saw the wide-eyed, lost and confused look on Peter's face and it occurred to her that he was unenlightened about what was next . . . if anything.

Compassion welled up in her painfully. Sadly, she didn't know any more than Peter did. She had no idea what Davy's perspective was since they hadn't really discussed it, and certainly not to the point to where they were at now. Did Davy want her to have more involvement with Peter? Or is this where it ended? What a mistake to leave out such an essential ingredient; it made her feel quite inhuman.

She had to admit the show they'd given Peter had absolutely floored her, made her realize exhibiting their lovemaking in front of another person had really done it for her. It had cemented her to Davy more than ever. Hitting her orgasm as she knew Peter watched on had been far beyond exhilarating. She'd never known she had exhibitionist tendencies. It was a gift Davy had given to her . . .

But what about Peter? Her heart bled. Saying something to Davy could turn out to be positive or very, very negative. The wording would have to be spot-on. He might think she wanted Peter more than himself. It was extremely delicate, calling for maximal caution.

Peter was mad at himself. Furious, in fact. He was being so dramatic! Here he was, with his best friend, who was also his crush, on a Hawaiian island, and he'd just witnessed an actual, live, untaped and uncensored sex scene that had provided the best masturbation material he'd ever known, and yet he was feeling sorry for himself! How ungrateful was that? Who was he to expect more? He'd better buck up fast and stop lamenting.

A moment later, Davy was urging him over to them again. Being indirect, yet straightforward in the same breath, Davy finessed this situation like he had all the previous ones. He knew just how much pressure to apply, but also how much unfettered indifference to convey to spare Peter unnecessary distress.

Peter had a moment of panic when he reached for Davy's hand, and Davy, after allowing it for a moment, pulled his own hand away. He supposed Davy was trying to get across to him that it was alright if he approached Deanna sexually. But Peter had needed Davy's physical reassurance, and the withdrawal of Davy's hand had buffeted him.

Did Davy know how challenging this was for him? To kiss her mouth and breasts was one thing, but to go beyond those bounds—even the thought of it, paralyzed Peter. Davy had always been number one in his book, almost from the day he'd met him, and Deanna, though he liked her, was an aside. Davy came first. That was a fact that Peter couldn't change even if he'd wanted to. Yes, he ached to touch Deanna, but the ache to touch Davy was an inferno to Deanna's bonfire.

Deanna's fingers snaked through the hair on his chest again, and Peter's skin fluttered under her fingertips. He had to admit he loved the way she touched him with such sensitivity and tenderness. She had a way of luring him, leaving him breathless even if Davy was his numero uno, his champion, and always would be.

He was brought up short with alarm though, because he didn't know what moves to make, let alone when to make them. All he had known before this were the pushy girls that were frustrated because they hadn't been able to get to Davy, and so were in a sort of delirious state when they'd taken over, thus taking the responsibility out of his hands.

But something was curbing her—he sensed this promptly. You couldn't miss it. She was hesitant, leery, as if she didn't feel at ease. He wondered if she were waiting for him to take over. If that was the case, she would be waiting a long time and be sorely disappointed, as he didn't know where to begin. He could kiss her, do what they'd already done, but anything beyond that, and he wouldn't know what was proper and what was not. Davy's example didn't really help him, as she and Davy were already familiar with each other sexually. If he did something she deemed indecent, out of line, or premature, he would surely die . . . just die. Not only from humiliation, but from grief that he'd offended her.

This was not going well, and Peter could see no way out of it. Any way you looked at it, he'd come out a loser, and he would look just the way he was, in reality. A guy who was ignorant about women. Women and lovemaking. How much more unpromising could things get? A willing, sexy woman who was naked and was clearly desirous of him, and all he did was lie there, scared half out of his wits.

Should he just copy what Davy had done? Or was there some unwritten code he didn't know about? The trembling started again, and Deanna saw it.

She would just have to take over. If Davy got upset, she'd work it out with him later. For right now, she had to put Peter's mind at ease. Step up to the plate and help Peter along. Her fingers traced patterns on his chest. That chest was mouth wateringly gorgeous, and she wanted to just stare at it and soak it in.

She put Davy out of her mind for the moment. They'd built Peter up, but his confidence had to be sustained, before he lost it and panicked, which he looked to be edging toward swiftly. She began kissing him, knowing it would help to loosen him up. She'd learned she could cause Peter to lose his hold on reality by kissing him in a sensual way. So she began to attempt to bring him to that dream-like state.

As her lips worked over his, Peter was soon moaning, unaware of anything but Deanna's mouth on his, her tongue swirling around his mouth, sucking his lower lip, hanging onto him as if he were a life raft in stormy seas. His huge, swollen shaft jerked against her belly, and all she could think of was having it inside her. If the enormous thing would even fit!

With a sigh she reached down and wrapped her hand around it. Almost in the same motion, she threw the blanket down to their knees so Davy could see. She didn't want him to be denied that. Then she began to pump her hand slowly and carefully, so as not to make him explode prematurely. The ambiance of such novel excitement filled the tent. She could hear Davy's loud breathing behind her. Okay, so he was either fuming with anger, or overcome with lust at the sight. She would just have to trust that it was lust. He'd encouraged this, so if he hadn't wanted it to go this far, she and Peter could not be blamed. These thoughts were the only thing getting her through all this. And by the way, how had she gotten herself into this in the first place?

Peter stilled her hand gently with his own. He wasn't going to disgrace himself again. Now what? He couldn't let her continue because he could feel himself building steadily toward that peak. The peak that would bring him mind stunning release.

Deanna's tongue traced figure eights on his neck and down to his shoulder. Weakly, he accepted it, knowing that fighting it would be futile. He had no resistance in him. Her little tongue lashing at his skin drugged him into a boneless state.

Her tongue graduated to his chest, making raspy noises as it brushed against the hair, and Peter shivered with the immense effort he put into remaining compliant and still. It was not knowing what he was supposed to do, or how to act that unnerved him the most.

Deanna took that control away from him, and he found solace in it. This way he could enjoy, and not have to worry about what his next move should be. Her tongue drifted to his sides, moist and seeking. It was the strangest sensation. Almost a tickle, but couldn't be categorized that way because he was so turned on. He did know one thing very well—he didn't want her to stop.

Her tongue licked long stripes up and down both of his sides until he squirmed and a small sound of protest came from his throat. It was all the stimulation he could bear, and more. It was torture overlapped with incredible pleasure.

She began licking a nipple, feeling it harden under her tongue as Peter's chest expanded in a sudden gasp. Triumph. That feeling of power rose in her again. That and excitement that would likely be impossible to tamp down. She didn't want it tamped down though.

Her tongue worked busily until it reached his belly. She felt his body go immediately rigid, his belly muscles taut, and he barely seemed to be breathing.

Peter became overwrought a few seconds later, realizing he'd forgotten to inhale. Still, he was afraid to breathe, or even make the slightest move. She might stop, and God, he didn't want that to happen.

She was going lower, her tongue flicking non-stop. It licked his hip bone, then began moving inward. Peter started to hyperventilate now. From a ceased breath to this—breathing too fast and furious. Trying to drag needed oxygen into his lungs and still trying to survive her explorations that were bringing her ever closer to the bulls eye.

She'd better be sure of what she was doing because he was going to lose his head if she stopped. He'd never had this done to him before, but he'd had endless fantasies about it. Hearing other guys talk about it had made him envious. He had doubts a minute later when she went back to licking his sides again, figuring it was too personal just yet—something that was reserved for Davy, and he understood that, but he just wanted to experience it so badly.

Being tantalized like this was like being slowly tortured to death. He fended off the urge to thrust with an effort that took nearly everything he had in him. And just when he thought she was just going to continue the agony, he felt the warm moistness of her tongue on him . . . on the head of his dick. He had been keeping his eyes closed, and he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe he was afraid of seeing Davy watching, or of seeing what she was doing, or about to do. Or might not do.

His body fairly lurched at the feel of her teasing tongue, which was sliding into the slit, tickling it, driving him mad with wanting. He made a half choking, half croaking sound. He gripped the sleeping bag under him until his knuckles were stark white. He didn't know how he was going to last this out, not even knowing what her plans were. Was she going to draw it out? Make him beg? He did know one thing, and that was that he couldn't stand her licking for much longer. It was torment all the way through. Sweet, wanton torment. This was far better than he'd imagined all those times he'd pleasured himself, trying to guess what this delicious act would feel like.

But Deanna was only in the beginning stages. Continuing with the licking, her mouth closed on the head, her cheeks hollowing with the suction that followed. Peter howled—there was no way he could have held it back. It shocked and excited Davy and Deanna.

She could come from this. Just this. If he let her suck him long enough.

His enjoyment made that warm, slippery feeling in her stomach start whipping around madly. His expression of that enjoyment only made her desire soar higher. She began taking him in deeper. His length and girth might have been intimidating to some, but it only turned her on. She knew she could trust Peter, so she let herself go and really relished it—the way he felt in her mouth, the texture of him. Sucking and licking at the same time, swirling her tongue, she threw all her tender and sexual feelings for him into it. Getting the impression he had not undergone this act before, she ensured he would enjoy himself to the absolute maximum. His first experience, and hopefully all the ones following it, would be exceptional.

By the time she started sliding her lips up and down his length, Peter was fighting to keep from thrusting himself deep into her throat.

"Oh God," Davy's quiet voice broke the still air. It only propelled Deanna to delight in Peter ever more openly and lavishly, knowing she was also pleasing Davy. Faster and faster her head bobbed as her hand slipped between Peter's spread legs to fondle his balls.

It was too much. Peter could not endure this any longer. He had to come. His vocalizing intensified, and she knew he was very near. Her senses were all on alert, waiting to see what his ultimate gratification would be like, and how he would express it.

His orgasm rushed at him headlong like a runaway train, and Peter tried to warn her, but didn't know exactly how to.

"Deanna," he choked out, not able to get any more words past his lips.

She moaned in answer, trying to communicate to him that she understood the impact of what would come about very soon. And that she was ardent for it. The vibration of her moan only boosted Peter's libido to the point of making his imminent climax an absolute guarantee.

And then as he came, he thrashed, his hips rolling, bucking, completely helpless, having no control. His squirts were very forceful, and he grunted amidst all his groans and sighs. Deanna also moaned with every squirt, taking it all with zest. It escalated Peter's pleasure almost past the point of being able to tolerate any more stimulation. He reached down to stop her movements as he at last completed his series of high powered jets of semen into her mouth. It seemed as if he had spurted a dozen times to Deanna, although she knew it couldn't have been that many. She was so close to coming herself . . .

Peter basked in her long, slow licks as her tongue cleaned him. It was almost too much for his hyper sensitivity, yet it was still stimulating on a lower level. He laid flat out, the most satisfied he ever remembered feeling. Completely satiated.

As Deanna rose to her knees to sit up, she felt a cold finger of disquiet skate up her spine. Davy. How would he be feeling? It was one thing to be turned on by watching her kiss Peter, but . . . what she'd just done? Different ballgame altogether, and thus could extract a totally different reaction from Davy. But what kind of reaction? Enraged jealousy? That thought was what made her blood feel a little icy.

After only a glance at Davy though, she had a clear answer. He was wearing his drugged look, which meant he was aroused. He moved very slowly and deliberately, a little like a stalking panther, high on the thrill of the chase.

"C'mere, luv," he said, that silky quality slipping off his tongue like greased satin. Along with his accent, it sounded sensual beyond belief. He guided her over Peter's body, then lifted her and sat her down on his cock in a fluid movement, short, quick movements of his hips indicating he was more than ready for her again. After what he'd seen, he was ravenous. The friction as he plunged in and out of her was delicious, and the air whooshed out of her lungs as she leaned forward to kiss him.

In his lusty fog, he was thinking of what she'd just done with Peter, yet forgetting certain details, and the surprise that registered on his face when he detected the taste of Peter's climax in her mouth caused him to move his mouth away, making Deanna realize how hard it was for him to digest the reality. She didn't try to kiss him again because it was absolutely too much, too soon. To expect him to show no reaction to something like that was plainly out of the question right now.

It didn't slow him down for long though. His hands clutched at her butt, guiding her up and down on his shaft. He was so overboard in his desire that he thrust harder than he ever had before, ripping a groan from Deanna as she wriggled around on him, circling her hips, teasing him by lifting her pelvis higher and higher until he was almost out, just the tip of him remaining inside her, and then letting herself slip all the way down to the base of his hardness as he became a gasping mess.

He threw his head back, loving it, wanting more and more until there was nothing left but a massive, crazy orgasm on the horizon. Davy was anything but graceful as he came. He allowed her body to coax and tease him to that peak of pleasure that he'd been craving since he'd seen her go down on Peter. He was out of sync with her body, thrusting blindly, straining, grunting. He was all over the place, near desperation gripping him until he reached the pinnacle, and then allowed her to keep pumping at him with her body as he spilled his seed inside her with a grunt and muffled shout.

It was the most fulfilling sex he'd had with Deanna since they'd been together. And he knew why, although he hesitated to admit it, even to himself, but Peter played a part in it. No doubt about that.

Deanna rolled off him and dropped down between them, everyone quenched. Deanna smiled to see Peter's cock was rigid as ever, but Peter just shrugged and said, "It's that way a lot of the time."

"I think we're going to see a lot more of that in the days to come," commented Davy lazily, referring to Peter's state of arousal. "He seems to go around with a hard-on more often than he doesn't."

"Well, now I have two reasons," explained Peter, and this caused Davy to blush, knowing Peter was referring to himself and Deanna. It also reminded him of the Pad and how many times he had noticed the bulge in Peter's pants when they were alone together in their bedroom. And on the couch. And the stage.

Yes, it was true Peter had the major hots for Davy. And now he'd be sporting erections double-time. But Peter could handle it. He was naturally a very sexual person. Davy knew this, but wasn't quite sure how. Aside from the erections, that was. Maybe it was the vibe Peter threw out. Even though he and Peter had never done anything sexual with each other, the bassist had always had that certain dreamy, sensual quality to him that left no doubt in Davy's mind about Peter's place in his own little romantic world. Davy had long suspected Peter also had some incredible capabilities that were going untapped.

"Foreplay, babe," Davy's voice broke the silence. "It's where it's at."

Peter turned a curious face to Davy, making the heat rise in Davy's cheeks.

"Did I not do something right?" Peter's heart hammered at the thought that he probably should have built things up. It really hadn't been possible though, as Deanna had put her heart and soul into his body before he'd barely even had a chance to think about it.

"No, you're fine. Just remember to keep up the charm, because this lady of ours, Deanna, melts for foreplay. Foreplay that lasts all day long."

Peter remembered how the three of them had flirted, and he got Davy's hint. That should continue. It was a good thing.

Peter had the most gargantuan urge to touch Davy, but he resisted. The way Davy had pulled his hand away earlier—he didn't know if Davy would be accepting of it. He knew he shouldn't push things anyway. They'd come a long way tonight. It was an exquisite beginning. He shouldn't expect too much. Peter had been overcome with pleasure—it was more than he had ever dared to hope it would be. His own hands had never brought him a fraction of the pleasure.

They got up briefly to have a snack to replenish their sated bodies, then went back to bed, talked for a while about considerably lighter subjects than what was on all their minds, curled up against each other and called it a night.

The next morning, they made love again. Peter was keen and willing, and that was to put it mildly. But Davy was silently insisting Peter take this leisurely, in a sedate manner. His eyes, intent on Peter's, made sure no doubts remained in Peter's mind that Deanna would be in the driver's seat. He didn't want them starting off on the wrong foot and making her ill at ease. But Peter didn't disappoint him for a moment, understanding that this wasn't just about sex. Peter's innate temperament made it natural for him to defer to Deanna anyway.

Like writhing snakes, Peter and Davy made Deanna scream with the strength of her orgasms. Davy didn't do much more except kiss her and massage, suck and roll her nipples, letting Peter take the opportunity to learn to be unreserved with her. After all, Davy had had free access to her for some time.

Peter had remembered what he'd seen in the tent last night, and he went down on Deanna for the first time. He was so aroused he was a little bit afraid he'd end up over the moon with delirium. He was clumsy at first, and it took tremendous courage, but by the time ten minutes had passed, he'd learned what felt best to her, how much pressure to apply with his tongue, how much suction, when she liked his tongue inserted, and had found that little nub that brought her so much pleasure. He was so grateful to Davy for that silent lesson last night. He'd gone on to give her two orgasms that way. He was nothing short of inflated with pride.

Davy marveled at Peter's technique as he watched on. He was a very fast learner. Deanna, so excited and a little out of her mind, bordered on scratching and clawing Peter afterward in an effort to get him to enter her. But the first time he did, Deanna almost opted out. She nearly pulled the plug on everything. He had such length and girth that her skeptical side threatened to take over. Davy had told her she was tighter than most, and at first, particularly with Peter's over-eager attitude that he had trouble quelling, a little fear actually dribbled into her thoughts. But Peter was learning how to govern himself, as difficult as it was for him.

With Davy's quiet coaching, Peter managed to keep from thrusting and grinding into her ruthlessly. Soon her body adjusted, and surrounded him like a cocoon, and Peter was finally able to bury himself to the hilt, although it took some patience—something he was sorely short on. He would learn self-discipline in time, as he grew more familiar with Deanna. Davy had the ultimate confidence in that.

The warmth, the moistness, the tightness, the contracting walls of the inside of her stimulated Peter endlessly. Peter had to be told when enough was enough. He was so ravenous that he could have made love to Deanna all day, but she explained to him gently and quietly, after he'd come twice, that she'd had enough stretching for a while, and that any more would make her sore.

A little later, when Deanna was recovering from her most fulfilling mini love fest with Peter, Davy announced some news that Deanna didn't want to hear.

"We only have a few more days left here," he said to her, his face solemn. She'd known their time to go back to Malibu was drawing near, but she hadn't dared ask, and she hadn't kept track of the days on purpose—so she wouldn't have to think about it. Or dwell on it.

Seeing the downcast, doleful look on her face, he said, "That's all I'll tell you. Let me know when you want to know when it's time."

"On the morning we leave," she said. "That way, I won't have time to dread it."

Fair enough. They still had a little time for more adventures. Davy was only too aware of that, and it made his stomach fluttery. He saw the connection growing between Peter and his girlfriend right in front of him. They both had a dazed look that carried more than mere lust. A lot more. But Deanna still looked at him in the same way too, and that was comforting. She poured just as much affection on him as she always had. She still told him she loved him, even in front of Peter. So once again, he felt reassured, and yes, secure. It was just that it was all happening so fast . . .

Peter and Davy worked on Peter's fish trap again that day, all three of them craving fish for dinner again, and Peter tried to make playful, flirty physical contact with Davy a few times, like they had always done at the Pad. For years . . . for years they had done it. But Davy was oddly distant; Peter had never encountered this in him before, and he saw that Davy almost quaked with what looked like real fear. Peter couldn't understand why Davy had always allowed his friend to touch him before, yet now that the three of them should have been closer than ever, Davy was subtly avoiding him. Something had shifted.

Peter puzzled over it for a while, and then decided to just give it time. Davy was actively sharing his girl with Peter—it just might be overload for him to respond to Peter just yet. It was difficult for Peter to wait though. Davy had admitted how he felt about him, and to be standoffish when Peter wanted to touch him was like dangling an ever retreating cookie in front of a child.

Before the day was over, something profound happened. Davy had a meltdown, nervous breakdown-however you wanted to label it. Peter hadn't been able to control himself, and had let his hand linger on Davy's arm one time too many. Davy turned to Peter, brown eyes blazing. Yet he didn't say anything. Davy didn't want Deanna to see or hear what was transpiring, so he waited until Deanna was concentrating on preparing their dinner to escort Peter to the other tent, and then pushed him inside none too gently.

Davy's expression was shuttered, and that really concerned Peter. When Davy's expression closed like that, Peter knew it would be a hard task to get through to him. That temper was always lurking somewhere nearby, ready to spring into action if provoked.

"You've been touching me and getting close three or four times too much today," Davy said, his jaw set-tense and steely.

"I'm not acting any different than I ever do," Peter was clearly flustered.

"You know what I'm talking about, Peter."

No, Peter didn't know. As he'd just intimated, his behavior around Davy was not patently different.

Peter reminded himself inwardly that he had decided to give it a break. Yet he hadn't followed his own advice. He'd gone ahead and tried touching Davy again. Impatience had won out. He knew he was being unreasonable for questioning his friend's behavior. There was a good reason for it. All this between the three of them was still brand new. The memory that touching Davy had always been alright before, even natural feeling, was getting to him –he was letting it rule him. And even though it had never led to anything, Peter was hurt more than he feared Davy's anger.

"Why the change in you?" he asked Davy quietly, so Deanna wouldn't hear.

Davy didn't pretend not to understand. "Damn it Pete, I'm not gay!" Davy ground it out and tried to shove Peter to the side to leave the tent, but Peter stood in his way. And his stance remained rock solid. Davy tried again, becoming impetuous now. He was surprised by how strong Peter actually was when he put his mind to it.

"I don't want to hit you, Pete," he warned, his flashing eyes backing his statement up.

"You're gonna talk to me," said Peter in a tone Davy had rarely heard from his friend before. It was firm and unyielding."You're gonna quit running away."

Disgruntled, but no longer quite as angry, Davy flopped to the ground. Things were working out beautifully with them sharing Deanna. But between the two of them, things weren't quite that simple. Real life rarely is.

"Why do you act scared for me to touch you all of a sudden?" asked Peter.

"I bloody already told you! Do I have to reiterate? I'm not a fuckin' fag!"

"I never called you gay."

"You don't fuckin' have to!" snapped Davy, his eyes flaming and shooting sparks.

Peter knew he had to find a balance. Davy was a good fighter, and Peter was fully aware he could find himself with a real shiner or maybe even a broken nose if this kept this up. Davy had never been anywhere near this angry with him.

"You're so bloody determined. You always have been. I've put up with it for years, but this is where I draw the line. You're gonna quit flirting with me as if I was a girl!" Davy's voice was clipped and hoarse.

Put up with it? Had Davy really only been putting up with it?

The hurt at hearing these words crushed Peter's chest as if someone were stepping on it. All this time . . . all this time he'd thought Davy had enjoyed their closeness as much as he himself had. And to think that Davy had only been tolerating it for all this time caused a painful lump to form in Peter's throat.

"You've been humoring me all this time?" he asked, even as he knew it couldn't be true.

"Call it whatever you want. But I'm straight!" Davy looked madder than a hornet, but Peter feared the possibility of Davy's lack of feelings for him considerably more.

Sure, the idea of sharing Deanna and letting Deanna enjoy their attentions was captivating and exciting. It opened up a new world to Peter that he'd never dreamed of actually encountering in his life. But it wasn't worth it if this kind of thing was going to happen. If people were going to end up being hurt.

One other fact remained that Peter could not ignore. He didn't mind sharing Davy, but in his mind, Davy was his. It dawned on him that it was deep-seated and already well-established in his mind. For the first time, Peter fully comprehended the essence of their relationship. He'd loved Davy for a long time, but this was like a very profound awakening. By God, he was afraid he was in love with Davy.

They looked up at the same time to see Deanna in the opening of the tent, and they realized their voices, or at least Davy's voice, had been raised.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes tracking from one to the other.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Is dinner ready?" Davy asked her brusquely, his cheeks suspiciously splotched with deep pink. She nodded. He brushed past her as he left the tent, stalking away and leaving her and Peter alone.

"What happened, Peter? I heard angry voices."

Peter wasn't about to lie to her. "David isn't acting like he used to. He's tense around me. I'll let him tell you why. I'm not sure what's going on, but he's upset with me for some reason. That's all I can say."

Peter was now pretty sure Davy was feeling threatened. And Deanna might be able to handle them sharing her, but how would she feel if she knew Peter was in love with Davy? It seemed to Peter that he was coming between them, and Peter could not let that happen.

Peter and Deanna made their way back to the other tent and the three of them ate their fish dinner. Everyone was silent. Peter tried to fire up conversation a few times and so did Deanna, but Davy would not budge. His mouth was used only for eating, and conversation was abruptly rejected with monosyllables, and then only if he were asked a direct question. That was when Peter knew there was only one way to fix this. He had to leave . . .