Lesson Learned

"Gregg can be such a dickhead," I thought to myself. "He's a friend, and I like hanging around with him, but sometimes he's an asshole." I sighed, put down my glass of wine, and got off the couch.

"Where you going?" Gregg asked.

"The back deck. Between the cigars and your BS," I waved the Cuban that Gregg had given me and grinned as affably as I could at him, "I need a little fresh air."

"Sure, sure." Gregg stuck out his tongue at me and smiled, in a boyish way. He went back to talking with the group of friends that had gathered in his living room. The evening had started over drinks and dinner and had progressed to cigars, fine wine, and conversation about sex.

"Wait for me," Cindy called. She jumped up and followed me out the deck, letting the screen door slam behind us. Leaning on the railing in the cool night air I took a deep breath and I let my shoulders relax. "Gregg can be a real fuck-wad sometimes," Cindy said breaking the short silence.

I turned to her and smirked, "Yeah, I was thinking the exact same thing."

"I know Tracy. It was written all over your face."

"That obvious?"

"Maybe not to anyone else, but..." She let the sentence drift.

"Yeah ... not." Cindy and I were both Scorpios, strong, commanding, intense, passionate, and not afraid of a good fight. Neither one of us liked bullshit, especially from the other. It was one of the many things that made us great friends.

She was long and lean, athletic and muscula,; exceled at Martial Arts, had strong arms and legs, a taut butt, and 32 C breasts. Wavy natural blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and full lips topped her off. It was a deadly combination that had turned many a guy's head around in circles, though none had gotten a handle on her. Cindy remained single and saw plenty of action, but always on her own terms.

I looked like the Mutt to her Jeff. At five foot one, and slight with a 28 B bust, I was delicate compared to my friend. Flaming red hair and pale skin added to my soft appearance, making me look more like a fair Irish lassie, than the Midwestern farm girl I was. Despite my weaker-sex appearance, I could throw a bale of hay into a ten-foot loft, chase down a runaway steer and wrestle it to the ground, all without breaking a sweat. Those were not skills that I'd used since moving off the farm, but I kept myself in excellent shape and was confident that I could stand up to anyone, man or woman, without a problem.

Cindy and I had met shortly after moving to San Francisco to work in the software industry, which we'd learned could be just a rough and tumble as any truck stop biker bar, especially for women. Our shared Scorpio attitudes had helped our careers, and we'd rapidly advanced up the ranks in our respective companies. That was how we'd met Gregg and his cohort of friends. All of us were in the tech industry, all of us were very competitive, good at what we did, and all been very successful. Our multi-way friendships had grown over time. We spent many evenings and weekends together at one or another's homes eating, drinking, and just hanging out. That night Gregg had hosted a small get together after returning from a venture capital excursion to Cuba where he hoped to establish a new technology center. He had smuggled out the valuable cigars we were smoking, sharing them with us, along with his stock of excellent wine. Gregg was very generous, but a braggart and a gender-equality luddite.

"Okay, so it was kind of obvious," Cindy admitted. She took a puff on her cigar, letting the smoke slowly escape from her pursed lips and enshroud her like a halo. She drew in again. The tip flared bright red illuminating her gorgeous features. Her eyes subtly squinted and became more intense as she relished the flavor of the forbidden tobacco. "It's not like anyone else in the room was thinking differently."

"But nobody calls him out. That's what pisses me off," I replied. Cindy just nodded giving my Scorpio agitation free rein. "Who now-a-days really thinks that women don't have as much sex drive as men, or that we merely respond to a man's passion? He sounds like a freaking Neanderthal. And all the I'm-hot-as-shit stories that he tells. I think that he's full of it. No way he's the stud that he says he is."

Cindy just looked straight at me and didn't say anything, silently reminding me just how good looking Gregg was. At five foot ten, with blue eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders, rippling six-pack abs, and no more than five percent body fat, Gregg was definitely GQ, cover boy handsome. Women fawned over him every time we went out on public. "Okay, okay," I relented. "He's hot, but not that hot." I faltered under Cindy's challenging stare. "Alright, he is that hot, but he can still be an asshole."

Cindy laughed, "We've reached an agreement there." I couldn't help but laugh too. "I'm glad you see it my way," I said.

"Honey, you and I see a lot of things the same way." She hugged me around the waist and drew me in close. I sagged into her side. When Cindy kissed the top of my head, a shiver ran through me. Memories of the times we'd shared ourselves with each other ran through my mind. Neither of us were lesbians, or even particularly bisexual, but on several amazing evenings we had let our passions run wild and had incredible sex together. Nothing was ever planned, but more than once, we'd blended in the most mind-boggling way. It was our naughty and very special secret.

I extracted myself from her embrace afraid that our closeness and my memories might lead us where I didn't want to go that night. "I'd love to teach him a lesson." Cindy looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I don't want to hurt him or anything, just make him realize that it's not all about him. No, not even that," I added trying to figure out what I was feeling. "It's like he's a fearless leader, commanding the mindless, empty woman that he's with. I wonder if he actually enjoys sex."

Cindy looked pensive, but stayed quiet.

"Gregg should learn how to loosen up. Maybe let a woman run the show."

"Perhaps he'd change his ways, discover something new and special," Cindy completed my thoughts and my sentence for me. We finished our cigars silently, each lost in our own meditations, and then went back into the house to join the rest of the group.

"Mi amigo you haven't lived until you've had a Cuban man." Daniela said with a heavy accent. The conversation obviously hadn't changed while we'd been outside. She was a dark-skinned beauty from Cuba and the one who had arranged Gregg's trip. "You say you've enjoyed two women at once, but you can't know ecstasy until you've taken your pleasure from a Cuban man ... or two of them, the way that I have."

"Bullshit!" Gregg exclaimed.

"Ah, but it is true my friend. On my papa's sugar cane plantation. I was seventeen, but a healthy seventeen, if you know what I mean." Daniela cupped her generous breasts. Like Cindy and me, she was not shy or reserved. "It was harvest time and I was driving the tractor while two field hands chopped and stacked the cane on the trailer. It was hot and we were all pouring sweat; me in my cotton dress, and the two bronzed men, stripped to the waist, bulging muscles slick with their efforts in the midday sun. They were gorgeous and the wetness between my thighs matched what trickled down my back. When they dumped water over their heads to cool down and it soaked them head to toe, I could see the outlines of their manhood through the clinging fabric of their flimsy trousers. I could not stand it, so I jumped up and took the first one on the back of the trailer. My papa would have killed us all if he'd seen, but I did not give that stud a chance to say no. I had his pants down around his ankles and that beautiful, thick cock in my hands before he even knew what was happening. There was no chance for him to protest before I swallowed him whole, pulling his pulsating rod deep into my mouth. The way he filled me was glorious. I can still feel it today." Daniela took a deep breath and sighed. "My hunger for his partner was just as strong, so I motioned him toward me while I pulled up the hem of my dress. He tore it off and discarded it so that my bosom fell free in the humid air and my sex was exposed to them both. It was just what I wanted. As he lifted me from my knees, I kept a grip on the cock in my mouth. I was a wisp in his strong arms. He turned me upside down and held me in the air, feet over my head, legs spread wide, and ravished my aching cunt with his mouth while I sucked on the hard erection still between my lips."

The room was silent.

"Despite his strength, we didn't stay that way long. I ordered him to put me down so that I could take each of them the way a woman should, between her legs, hard cock, pounding into hot, wet pussy. I did take them both, giving each what I wanted him to have until they exploded in and on me just as I demanded. And I had my own orgasms, many times, until I was satisfied." Every mouth hung open in awe and lust at Daniela's story. She grinned with pride, took a drink from her wine glass and topped it all off with a puff of her cigar.

"Again I say bullshit," Gregg broke the quiet. "No way you did that."

"Believe what you want Gregg," Daniela fixed him with a steely gaze. "But the story is true. I took my men the way that I desired, and gave what I wanted that day." She took another big draw on her cigar.

Gregg sat back on the couch unconvinced. Cindy caught my eye and smiled. A plan was forming in her head and I could tell it was going to be good.

It was about a week later over lunch that Cindy shared her thoughts with me. "You know that I love Gregg, don't you?" I nodded and polished off the last bite of my hamburger. "I mean, love him like a friend, not in any romantic way." She paused and stared off into space "He might be a good fuck, so maybe that kind of love, but not the gushy kind. Anyway," she shook her head clear and went on, "he can be a great guy. He's very generous and shares everything with us, without any hint that he wants payback. And he's a real gentleman, holding doors for us ladies, pulling out chairs, easy with complements and so on. It's hard to match that Gregg with the one who brags about his sexual prowess and talks about women as if we don't have our own passions and desires."

"Yeah," I began.

Cindy cut me off. "And I think everything that you said the other night was right on target, the way he's always got to be in charge." I stayed quiet. "You know what? I think he's scared."

"Huh?"

"I think that sex scares him."

The idea that Gregg the Adonis, the one that women drool over, who brags how good he is in bed, feared sex stunned me. "How can you..."

Cindy interrupted again, "I don't think he's scared of sex. I think that he's scared how to have quality sex."

"You gotta explain that one." I reached for my beer and leaned back.

"Good sex is about throwing everything to the wind and losing yourself with your partner. At least in part, you allow yourself be overcome, maybe do things that you never thought you would, like oral sex." I snorted in disbelief. "Hey, not everyone is as keen on oral as you and I are. There are plenty of women who won't let a guy cum in her mouth, and I've known men who refused to go down on me. They didn't last very long, I'll tell you that." Cindy smirked. "With Gregg I don't think it's any particular thing though."

"So what is it that he's so afraid of?"

"I think he's scared of letting go, being out of control, feeling or doing something that he wasn't expecting."

Suddenly I understood what Cindy was saying, and knew that she was right. "Yeah. I'll bet that he doesn't surrender to his partner so that she can really work him over. I love doing that you know, showering my bedmate with everything that I can, finding all the buttons I can push to give him, or you," we smiled at each other, "the most pleasure that I can. Doing that makes me feel good."

"Giving up control, I don't think that Gregg knows how to do that."

"Damn, you're smart girl. I never thought about it that way." I took another sip of my beer. "We're good Samaritans, aren't we? We should help that boy out."

"My thoughts exactly!"

"So what did you have in mind?"

"Like you suggested, we should teach him a lesson. Not anything cruel, but a real lesson in how to really enjoy sex ..."

"Let go and be out of control," I finished her sentence. Cindy's grin broadened. We spent the next hour and half talking and planning. When we were finished, the afternoon was almost over. "You get him over to my house and I'll take care of everything else," I said. "This is going to be great," we hugged then headed out of the café where we'd sitting, "for all of us."

********************

"So what's the mysterious special occasion?" Gregg asked as I ushered him into my house. He waved two bottles of wine at me and stepped confidently into the foyer.

"Gregg, I thought Cindy told you not to bring anything."

"She did, but there's no way I'm coming over empty handed." He pushed the bottles toward me. I saw that one was a 2002 Opus One cabernet and the other a 1998 Penfolds South Australian shiraz. Both cost well over $400 a bottle. "These are way too much. I can't accept them." I held my hands out trying my best to refuse them.

"Pfft, no way," he nonchalantly waved me off and brushed past. "They're worth nothing unopened in my wine cellar. Now where's your corkscrew. They need to breath a bit." He strode into my kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers as if he lived there. Before I knew it, he had both corks out. "Mmm, I love that aroma don't you," he sniffed at the top of the open bottles. "Almost better than sex ..... almost."

All I could do was laugh and marvel at his generosity and his brashness. I also felt excited and a tiny bit guilty about what Cindy and I were about to do to him. "Why don't you go sit down and put your feet up while I finish getting the food ready. Cindy should be out any minute. Can I fix you a cocktail?" I spun him around by the shoulders and guided him into the adjacent living room, toward the love seat that faced the kitchen. My grip was firm enough to make it clear that I wasn't taking no for an answer. When he tried to protest, I silenced him by putting my finger over his lips. He looked slightly flustered by my take charge attitude, but relented and sat down. "Brooklyn gin martini, dry, correct? Just two olives or extra dirty?" I asked and winked.

"Umm, I usually take care of that myself."

"No tonight you don't," Cindy announced breezing into the room. She was wearing a sleeveless cotton shirt that clung tightly to her muscular torso. Every curve was outlined perfectly and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her firm breasts shifted enticingly like ocean waves as she moved about. The dress shorts she wore were so snug they might as well have been painted on. I could see her perfect, toned butt rippling with each step. Everything about her radiated sensuous, sexy tigress. Gregg's pupils dilated and he caught his breath. "Umm," he stammered again, "Okay. Whatever you say."

"I like that," Cindy purred at him, "and I'll remember you said it. What can I fix for you Tracy?"

"I'll have whatever you two are having, thanks."

"Perfect, that makes it a threesome," Cindy headed to the bar before Gregg could say anything else.

"By the way Cindy, you look awesome," I called from the kitchen.

"Thank you, sweetie." The ice filled cocktail shaker rattled. "I can't wait to see what you're going to surprise us with when you take off that apron." Cindy handed me one of the three martinis that she poured. "You do have something on under there, or do you?"

"You'll just have to wait and see won't you." I blew her a kiss and turned back to my food prep.

"Uh," Gregg said hesitantly looking uncomfortable with our conversation. He tried to redirect us. "So what's for dinner ladies? I'm starving. I had the busiest day, and you know how Fridays can be. Everyone wants things done before the weekend."

I stepped beside Cindy. "Beef tenderloin. We just love a big, juicy piece of meat on our tongues, don't we?" I snaked my arm around Cindy's waist. Gregg had failed to shift our sexually laden chatter, and the assurance that he usually radiated drained out from him like water from a bucket. "We like ours au natural," I paused and licked my lips. "No fancy sauces, just pure, unadulterated, natural meat." He looked stricken, unsure what to do or say next, while arm-in-arm Cindy and I gazed down at him. Our continuous innuendos were working how we'd planned. Gregg was disarmed and confused. I felt a little sorry for him. He had no idea that it was just the warm up.

"How do you like yours Gregg?" Cindy asked.

"Umm, umm. I guess medium rare."

"Nice and firm on the outside, but all pink and juicy on the inside. That's just the way we like it too." Cindy released me. "Now why don't you go back into the kitchen and finish up girl," Her tone was commanding, but not mean. She swatted me on the rear. I pretended that it stung and groaned quietly. "Yes, ma'am," I answered. Gregg looked back and forth between us, not sure what he'd just witnessed.

Cindy sat down on the couch and took a sip of her drink. "Tracy's a whiz in the kitchen. Everything that she touches comes out perfectly." With masterful technique, she was very carefully choosing her words and emphasizing specific ones for effect. "Me, I've got other talents and it's good that Tracy likes what I do as much as I like doing it." She took another sip and leaned back against the arm of the small sofa, keeping her eyes fixed on Gregg. Her breasts pushed against the tight shirt. He stared at them transfixed. "Don't get me wrong, I can cook too, just not so much in the kitchen." I was sure that Cindy's eyes were twinkling at that unsubtle come-on. "I make a mean cocktail, don't you think? And I can make your mouth water too, just give me a good piece of meat. With that and a grill, this girl can fix you up properly, I guarantee it."

I looked over the counter to where they were sitting and saw Gregg totally flabbergasted. Cindy had mercilessly teased him with overt sexual insinuations, only vaguely shrouded with culinary terms. His facial expression made it clear just how bewildered he was. I was thrilled. Gregg had come in filled with cool poise and laden with expensive gifts like usual. But it hadn't taken long for us to throw him off. We had literally put him in his place on the sofa then showered him with attention and suggestive commentary. Our double-barrel, rapid fire behavior also had the intended effect of knocking him off balance, leaving him in a more passive role. We didn't want to emasculate Gregg, though, so it was time to back it down.

"Dinner's ready," I called from the kitchen. "Gregg would you do the honors and pour the fantastic wine you brought?" He jumped up from the sofa. "I'd love to," he said quickly, and filled three glasses with the shiraz. "I hate to ask this, but how are you at carving Gregg?" I asked. "Every time I wind up mauling the tenderloin and ruining a beautiful piece of meat." I held out the carving knife. Gregg smiled, relieved to be given a "manly" task. "The secret darling is having the right tools and a delicate touch." He sliced into the perfectly cooked beef.

Dinner was fun and lively. Cindy and I left out the over saturated sexual references that we'd started the evening with. We let Gregg control the conversation and little by little his poise returned. By the time we were finished eating he seemed closer to his typical self. "By the way Tracy," he began swirling his third glass of wine, "I'd like to say that you look terrific without your little apron on." It was typical Gregg, a compliment served with a side of chauvinism.