It is for you that they stripped each other nude, pressed their clits together, and began to thrust, matching each other stroke for stroke.
They do this only because you told them that you would choose the winner of this so called “sexfight” as your lover, and leave the loser in your past.
But now, now that they are an hour in, and their muscles tire – now that their sweat glistens and glows in the dimming sun light – now that you find yourself stroking your manhood to the sight of them together, and not split apart, you start to doubt.
How can you choose, regardless of winner?
How can you decide on one, when they two together excite you more than any other sight you have been privileged to behold?
If you reach the honest, but guilt-ridden discovery that you cannot. That you need both of them, no longer as rivals, but as co-lovers. You must intervene. You must show them how wonderful three can be, focusing all of your attention on turning their competition inwards, against you. Presenting the question, without words, who can please YOU the best? And never let that question be answered. Ask it again and again. Night in, and night out. Keeping the fire stoked, and their competition evergreen. In that way, giving each of you what was wanted, for they: you, and for you: they.