Many stories start with a storm. With cracking thunder, pouring rain, people in too little clothes on a desperate search for shelter. This is one of those stories. It's the story of three women finding their way into a picturesque villa, a remote homeowner letting them in - and them deciding to thank him.

Cracking thunder. Pouring rain. Francisca was running ahead of her two friends, blonde hair tangled up all over her face. At this point, she could barely see anything anymore. The sky was pitch-black at 3 PM, and when there was a flash of light, it was always followed by a bone-chilling rumbling. To their right, palm trees were fighting for their lives, many cracking, branches dropping like flies. To their left, the ocean was just as vicious, slowly but surely encroaching on the few meters of sand they could still run on. At this pace, they would soon be trapped entirely, having to choose between drowning and being crushed by trees deep in the underwood, miles from the nearest road.

Their phones? Francisca had stopped trying to get any signal, only Alina still trying, the piece slipping from her cold fingers every so often. Just like her best friend that ran ahead, she was shivering, terribly cold only half an hour after strutting around in flimsy bikinis on the secluded beach they had spent hours getting to.

"I don't want to die!", Karina cried, the furthest in the back of the three. She was not quite as tall as her friends, her legs a little shorter, and the nerves didn't play into her cards either. Her vision was blurry with rain and tears, and she had long lost sight of Francisca in the front, only keeping the brunette hair of Alina in her sight. Even that became more difficult. It was dark again, but that never lasted for long - and the next lightning strike came too late, one woman stumbling right into the other. Alina had stopped for a second, partly to catch her breath - partly to figure out if her eyes were deceiving her:

There was a house. Not just a house - a whole-ass villa with pools, side properties, massive lounge chairs - all thrown over, mattresses strewn about on the beach, many caught in trees or simply lost forever. Francisca was already halfway up the terrace when the other women stumbled into motion again. She ignored the security cameras, ignored the alarm blaring out - it wasn't nearly as threatening as the storm itself. She nearly threw herself against the glass door, banging against it just in case anyone was home. No reaction. None at all.

Karina and Alina caught up to her, fell in with clenched fists, screaming for help and shelter.

Nothing.

Until the alarm siren suddenly stopped. Instead, a voice cut through the storm.

"What are you doing on my property?"

The women held in. Alina figured out where the voice came from: A speaker under the terrace roof.

"We were on the beach! Taking photos! The storm caught us, please let us in! It's dangerous out here!"

Silence again, at least from the speakers. A lightning strike hit the villa - or rather the lightning rod on top of it. All three women flinched - and suddenly, a buzz went through the door. With a smooth motion, it slipped open, just far enough for the women to slip in, falling to their knees, dripping salt, sweat, water and sand onto a white carpet. Behind them, the door fell shut again. In here, it was quiet. Alina rolled onto her back, a fit of laughter coming through her. Karina fell in, her head resting on her friend's flat stomach. Francisca was not quite as convinced that all was well now. She walked through the room, eyes drawn to the ceiling - finally finding another camera. As her eyes met the lens, the TV behind the trio turned on. On the screen was a man - thirties or forties, handsome, some genuine worry on his face.

Shortly after, everyone knew what was up. The homeowner's security system had notified him of the intruders - and with the smart home apps on his phone, he unlocked the villa for them to find shelter inside. He wouldn't return to his own home till the evening of the upcoming day. So long as they cleaned up after themselves, and maybe tried fixing the exterior once the storm was over, they were allowed to stay.

Truly, he was kind. (And I will under absolutely no circumstances entertain any ideas that revolve around blackmail, dub-con, or worse.)

And after a few more minutes of light conversation, they had to end the call. He had work to do - and they all needed a shower.

The next morning, the storm was over. They had spent the night cuddling in a guest bedroom, snoozing the night away in each other's arms, thankful to be alive, thankful that this man let them in. They could have ransacked the place, could have stolen the jewelry they had found everywhere. Hell, he had even offered for them to borrow some of the designer clothes his daughter, fortunately college-aged like them, had in a closet in case she wanted to visit her old man. An offer they turned down - they had a small bag of their own clothes, after all.

Of course, the three women made true on their promise - they cleaned the stained carpet, fetched all the lounge cushions they could find within a mile of the villa, and when the afternoon rolled around, they had found themselves on the couch. A conversation revealed a shared desire. A plan.

And when the evening came and the homeowner returned, he'd find three women in the master bedroom, watching Netflix on his TV. One occupying the bean bag chair with her legs high in the air, one floating in the corner of his pool, the third on his bed, zapping away in utter disgust at Neflix's poor programming.

"Want to join us for a bit, Mister?", Alina asked, cocking her head over her shoulder towards the handsome stranger - grinning a bit as she saw his gaze down her attire: Not much of a surprise - she had stolen his button-up shirt. In the background, Karina was waving at him from her own awkward seating, while Francisca ascended from the pool, water dripping down her gorgeous, bikini-clad body as she began to stride over to their host with a welcoming and mischievous smile on her face.

There is no need to jump right in - but if you want to write an intro (in 1st or 3rd person) detailing how the man first reacts to the intruder's arrival, and what is on his mind after their video chat, that is appreciated as well.

Mandatory, however, is a guide on which kinks you want to include in this story and how you see them fitting in - as well as any specifics on how you like these kinks to be written about. Tell me about your limits, any details you might want to change that keep the core of the story intact, and whether you are up for me to use three specific references for our heroines. All gorgeous, slender ladies. Models. Beauties - trust me, you will like them. If you have trust issues or very specific taste, show me what kind of looks you would be into :P Same for the man, actually!

If there is anything else you want to include in your initial message, go for it - but the paragraph above is pretty much required unless you have some super-vital dealbreaker-question to ask ahead of time!