Threesome With A Chance Of Frozen Meatballs

On the night of my thirty-second birthday, my friend found out the guy she’d fallen for was cheating on her. Turned out he’d not only been sleeping with her, but with two other women as well; which would’ve been fine had he been honest with her about his intentions. Alas, he was not.

In case you didn’t know, a scorned woman is a fabulously devious creature; especially when her forces are combined with an equally bitter woman’s. During our celebration of drinking, dancing, more drinking, and more drinking, a few hours after my friend had told me the sordid tale of how she came to find out the local Chef she’d been seeing had deceived her, we decided we needed to get even.

What better way than a threesome.

The Chef happened to work nearby and since it was last call at the bar, I suggested she send him a text so we could stagger our way down the street and pay him a visit. She’d often told me stories about how they’d meet after the restaurant closed and hang out in the kitchen, drinking and talking, so I’d decided that was as good a place as any to carry out our perfectly ridiculous plan.

When we arrived there ten minutes later he greeted us at the door. Because it was so late, he and his Mexican cook were the only two left in the building. This worked out perfectly for me. The less witnesses the better.

After a few shots of tequila I was ready to make good on my promise to bring her retribution. I took her hand, and his, and marched us all toward the restaurant’s walk-in freezer. As we stepped inside, the scent of not-so-fresh vegetables and preemptive regret hit me like a freight train. I remember logically questioning what I was getting myself into, even under my Patron haze, but teaching this asshole a lesson seemed worth the indiscretion and possible frostbite.

The ten by twenty foot space was a tight fit and not exactly the ideal place for such a tryst, but we pressed on, or rather pressed ourselves against each other between the racks of chilled food. I caught a glimpse of some hickory smoked bacon on a nearby shelf and wondered if I could convince the Mexican in the kitchen to make me a BLT after we were done.

We positioned the chef and his semi-erect sous at the end of the freezer, with his back to the wall and both of his imprudent heads facing us. My friend was in the middle and I was closest to the door, one hand near the knob at all times for fear of the three of us getting locked in.

He looked at us with hungry eyes, obviously not just for the pork by-products, grinning from ear to ear, as if he’d won the bisexual lottery. I couldn’t blame him. After all, two insanely attractive women stood before him outwardly poised to fulfill his fantasies, and he had no idea what he was in for. I almost felt bad for him until I remembered what a douchecanoe he was and how much he deserved to be a pawn in our deceptive little game.

My girlfriend and I proceeded to make out with one another knowing how much it would turn him on. I playfully nibbled on her lip, keeping my eyes open the entire time, watching his reactions while I calculated our next move. As my hands wandered underneath her shirt and towards her breasts, I heard him shudder and gasp for air. I wondered if he’d cum right then and there before we’d had a chance to carry out our evil plan.

A glance at his pants revealed he’d either stuck a spring roll in his pocket from the appetizer tray to our right, or that we still had time.

“Want in on the action?” my friend asked him coyly, as I stood and seductively licked my lips behind her.

“Oh, hell yea.”

“Why are you still wearing those then?” I said, as I pointed to his pants. “Here, let us help you,” I whispered with a sly smile.

While my friend undid his button and worked on his zipper, I unclasped his belt. Before he knew it, we’d removed his pants and boxers and placed them in a pile next to the freezer door. As he stood before us with his three inch utensil, I stifled my laughter and contemplated over whether or not being the brunt of a lifetime of little dick jokes wasn’t punishment enough for his disrespect of women.

I also wondered why my friend had wasted a month talking to a man with such an unimpressive member. Maybe he always kept an extra spatula handy.

Still, we proceeded.

Since I’d learned my lesson years before that tequila and blowjobs didn’t mix, we already decided she’d be the one taking the shots during our tawdry threesome. Not to mention my parents had taught me from a very young age to never go down on strangers. She enjoyed sucking dick a hell of a lot more than I did anyway, and was probably the only woman I knew who didn’t just use it as a means to an end of multiple orgasms.

Bless her ejaculate loving heart.

Plus she’d already had a taste of him on their second, third, and fourth dates.

As she got down on her knees and took him in her mouth, I leaned over her and started to kiss him. The plan was to get him rock hard and then leave him there before he got off, taking his clothes with us. Nothing says payback like leaving a guy pantless in a freezer/cooler. Unfortunately, for my friend, he got so turned on he came as soon as we both planted our lips on him.

As my friend looked up at me with panicked eyes and a mouth full of spunk, I realized I’d have to be the one to turn this around. I wasn’t about to let this guy have a story to brag to his friends about when we were supposed to be the ones leaving with an epic tale of lesbian heroism.

“Well that’s not fair,” I said. “I didn’t even get to play with you. How about my friend and I fool around a little more and we’ll see if your little chef perks up again?”

Of course he agreed. What self respecting man wouldn’t?

“Turn around while we get undressed. The fluorescents in this cooler aren’t very flattering. I’ll tell you when we’re ready.”

Because he wasn’t the smartest man, he didn’t see our next move coming. As he stood there bare assed, facing the back of the freezer, I quickly grabbed his clothes, my friend’s hand, and pushed open the cooler door.

Once we were outside, I turned the latch and locked him in. It took him a good five minutes before he realized what had happened. Maybe because he was still in an orgasm induced fog, but probably because he was just an idiot.

While my friend and I doubled over with laughter, his Mexican counterpart came around the corner to see what was going on. One look at the clothing in my arms and the sound of the Chef, who was now pounding on the door, clued him in on what had just happened. Apparently he found it as funny as we did because he started to chuckle and gave us a wink.

But he obviously didn’t find it amusing enough because he started to unlock the cooler.

“Wait!” I shouted.

How could I convince him to leave the Chef in a little longer? Five minutes in a freezer/cooler wasn’t entertaining enough for me. And then it hit me. Like all previous birthdays, my parents had gifted me with a crisp one hundred dollar bill in a sentimental card that morning. This was as good a time to spend it as any.

I took it out of my wallet and held it out towards the Mexican.

“If you leave him in there for the rest of the night, this money is yours.”

He thought about it a minute and then shook his head in agreement.

As I handed it to him I added, “And can you make us a sandwich?”

Bitches gotta eat.