14th Day: A Steak & A Blowjob For U

14th day: a Steak & a Blowjob for U

A sweet gf promises a prehistoric gift in March

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### My contribution to the Valentine's Day Story Contest 2024. All the characters are over eighteen years old. Faces, ages, and bodies are not described by my specific choice, I want each reader to imagine the people they prefer; as well as the town. The main character and his girlfriend do not live in the same house. English is not my native language, please forgive my mistakes. ###

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Intro.

"Do you like it when a loving girlfriend licks your shaft? I know you like to see me on my knees, naked and all handcuffed, but you don't have to think about me, today is your party all to yourself slurp, slurp...do you like steak, is it raw enough for your taste? Is the blood sweet?"

She took my cock in her mouth, and darted her testicles with strong strokes of her tongue, invoking my copious cumshot.

I thought I was in heaven on earth.

Some people claim that happiness does not exist, or if it does, it is unattainable.

But I know that happiness exists, and you don't need much money: a girlfriend in love and a steak on the plate will be enough.

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Chapter 1: Valentine's Day approaching.

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My girlfriend showed up at the appointment all red in the face. Red Flag.

She kissed me passionately, swirling her tongue between my lips: an unmistakable sign that she wanted to capture my goodwill around something problematic and boring.

"Tell me."

"No, nothing, it's okay..."

"Don't play games with me, honey. Ask me the thing you want to ask me, then we'll go to the movies."

"Uh...um...my sister finally has a boyfriend."

"That complete dorky almost virgin? Your sister is the one who always says that all males are divided into Rogues and Knights but she needs a Gentleman (what the heck movie she watches...)? And where did she find him, is it a gift from Santa Claus?"

"Don't be silly. It's Valentine's Day in a few days. She is too embarrassed to go out with this boyfriend alone...and she begged me to accompany her."

"Okay. I'll allow it. Go ahead!"

"Uh, how funny, Mr. Sultan! I promised we would go together's Valentine's Day, double couple, double trouble!"

"Ouch..."

"And that you will choose a fancy restaurant!"

"Here we go..."

"Of course you two alpha males will split the bill, just pretending: then I'll pay my share, as we've always done."

"You are the woman of my life."

"But we have to make my sister's boyfriend believe that it was a beautiful, elegant evening, with great wine and fine food, so that they have a beautiful memory to build their future on."

"Honey, you know that I..."

"Yup! You can't stand crowds, you can't stand restaurant dinners, and you already have to wear a suit and tie to work all day. I KNOW! And that's why I came to you with a negotiating proposal.... Do you want to hear it?"

"Go ahead."

"I'm offering you a Steak and Blowjob Day in return, all for you."

"A WHAT?"

"Oh, come on, darling, an educated and experienced person like you, don't you know what an S&BD is? The name itself says it. Starting from the observation that every single phase of Valentine's Day is designed specifically to fully satisfy the most stereotypical female fantasies (which not all women share but let's leave it at that), some genius writers have proposed a diametrically opposite holiday, to be celebrated on March 14, in which good and loving girlfriends reciprocate their boyfriends by satisfying male fantasies."

"That is since I can stand fancy restaurants, opera, perfume, and flowers..."

"Exactly! I will put up with any form of primal coarseness in return. Psychologists say that the male brain has remained in the Stone Age: brontosaurus meat, half-naked women, wild belching, rudeness, and absence of refinement. Kind of like a cartoon from The Flintstones series."

"And you..."

"I know you'll be very busy with work in the next few weeks: we'll see each other and have sex as usual, but there won't be an opportunity to have a real weekend together. But, in a month, on March 14, we will go somewhere to experience a weekend just you and me. For a whole day, I will be a slave to any of your most primal desires. I will cook you a big, juicy steak rare, just the way you like it. No salad! No diet stuff: just fried potatoes with mayonnaise and sauces. To drink, I know what you want to drink with the steak, and you'll get it, I'll pour it for you. Naked, of course, because in prehistory there were no high heels and lingerie."

"Oh... maybe I could make an exception to the rule, and give you some dress..."

"Ah no, no dressing over salad, and no dress over cavewoman girlfriend! No fancy pantyhose, no make-up, no nothing."

"Just prehistoric sex. Primordial. Savage. Okay. I can put up with your sister and her boyfriend for a few hours."

"Deal?"

"Deal agreed. It will be a memorable evening."

Chapter 2 Valentine's Day

I contacted my "sister-in-law's" boyfriend, and proposed to him a very fine Italian restaurant, pointing out that since the owner was a client of mine, we would get favorable treatment from the waiters, and a steep discount on the total that he and I would split in half, like two real Alpha Males.

He seemed hesitant and full of doubt, but the idea of getting a discount must have interested him.

His name was Ed McShiran. I carefully avoided making silly jokes about the singer, but boy, this Ed had red hair like a carrot! He looked nothing like Barney Rubble, but that didn't matter because he would not be there on March 14.

I told him to wear the most elegant suit he had at home because it was a very fine restaurant (it wasn't a cheap pizza place).

I picked him up in front of his house in my car, then we went together to the front of the apartment where my girlfriend, who from then on should have been named Wilma Flintstone, was waiting for us with her sister Betty.

Instead, out of the front door came two elegant and refined women. Soft silk and velvet dresses swathed two magnificent and proud bodies. Long silk stockings let the elegant lace of the garter see through the vertiginous slit of the skirt... Very high heels (never seen before) slung the turned shape of the calf and gave the gait of both ladies an extraordinary elegance.

Fortunately, the steps they had to walk between the door and the car were very few, otherwise, they would surely have suffered some pain in their ankles.

Ed looked at the two sisters like a cartoon wolf, almost hypnotized. I was almost closing his dangling jaw.

My girlfriend - Wilma, as it were - found a way to scold me in a benevolent way: "Oh, Fred, how rude you are! Why do you just stand there and don't come and support me by the elbow?" And he winked at me.

I tried not to smile. And I stood still. And, beside me, he was motionless too. Then a light bulb went on, and with a Jerry Lewis leap, he approached Betty and offered her elbow to hug.

My girlfriend shook her head, pretending to mumble, while her sister sported a beaming smile, "Yay! My boyfriend is nicer than yours!"

The evening proceeded all according to the same script. We were greeted by Gennaro, the maître d' of the restaurant, who hugged me, kissed my cheeks and loudly told me that on February 14 they were already full, but that because I was a friend of the owner, they had canceled a reservation by the vice mayor to give the table to the four of us. This was not true at all had made reservations on time these phrases had a great effect on the other couple.

I introduced Ed and Betty to Gennaro (since Wilma had already come to dinner many times) and he said, in Italian, "Fred's friends are my friends!" and motioned to the waiters to bring us the appetizers, specifying "the appetizers are on the house, otherwise I will be offended!"

I let Ed the Red choose the wine following the Sommelier's advice: his girlfriend, Betty, looked at him as if he had won the Nobel Prize and the Academy Award on the same night.

Gennaro's waiters kept bringing us Italian appetizers: parmesan cheese, prosciutto crudo, melon, stuffed vegetables, stuffed tomatoes, and stuffed zucchini.

The conversation was bright and breezy. My girlfriend always agreed with whatever opinion Ed uttered, and I played second fiddle, confirming Betty's ideas but never contradicting Ed the Red. At the end of the evening, they would go home convinced that they were both two brilliant people.

I was already full, but Gennaro came to propose a list of "Primi" dishes, such as spaghetti with meatballs or seafood risotto. Ed remembered seeing an old movie (I realized only later that it was Lady and the Tramp) and wanted spaghetti.

The restaurant had a central hall where you could even dance accompanied by a small string orchestra, like in old black-and-white movies. Very elegant and civilized.

My girlfriend was invited to dance a waltz by one of her dance instructors. I knew him: he was an old friend, openly gay, who loved to dance together with my girlfriend especially dances like the waltz or other very refined dances. In fact, at Gennaro's, we did not hear popular music, but only operas or precisely waltzes (he said that even though Mozart was German, for operas about love he preferred the Italian language: I don't know about that but at least in one case, the original libretto of "LE NOZZE DI FIGARO" was in Italian).

The scene of the invitation to dance seemed like déjà vu to me: I remembered a movie with Greta Garbo, "Two-Faced Woman," and thought that it was very fitting for my girlfriend, who today presented her sister and future brother-in-law with the elegant and refined face, but in a month would show me the more prehistoric and primal face.

She agreed only on the condition that she could remove her shoes. Her gay friend with a broad gesture showed her that almost all the women on the dance floor were shoeless: a riot of stockings and bare feet that would have delighted even the most discerning fetishist.

After just one waltz, the dance teacher brought Wilma back to us and took the opportunity to have Betty dance as well, also shoeless, She asked Ed to help her untie the laces that were too tight, and he embarrassedly bent down to help her-I could see his erection creating a stiff tent in his pants.

It was only then that I realized that my girlfriend had summoned him on purpose, to give her sister that experience; and she had sacrificed herself in the first dance, to show Ed the Red how to behave, in style.

Gennaro insisted on bringing us fish dishes, repeating that it was an old recipe from his Sicilian grandmother with a special sauce of garlic and lemon... tuned.

Other wine, Gennaro had insisted on bringing a prosecco from the Veneto, very refined, very elegant: "This is better than French champagne!" I was not drinking because I had to drive the car, but my three diners were drinking with joy. Laughter, conversation, attunement, happiness.

I can't stand all these things, and I can't stand the noise of the "happy-for-obligation" crowd, and I can't stand people's bodies bumping into each other as they dance...

My girlfriend took my hand and said, "You hate me? The orchestra is playing Sinatra's My Way, and you don't have to do the waltz steps, it's just a slow one!" I reluctantly stood up and tried to sway without hurting anyone.

She hugged me as we swayed slowly. "My sister is so happy-I know it's a boring night for you, honey, but I was worried about her. You're so bored, I know -- but she thinks I'll be able to make up for all the lost time."

"Well, in a way it was fun...once every ten or fifteen years I might even accept it..."

She laughed, "Oh you horrible monster! You are devoid of heart! And you are also devoid of brains!" then she smiled, slid her hand down my pants, and said, "Fortunately I know you are not without a dick, and it is also erect, so you like this dress!"

"I like you, little fox, I would like you in the restaurant or the middle of the woods, on a sandy beach, or in the snow. Anywhere, common-"

"And naked."

"I would also like you naked, well, I guess so, I never thought of that."

"You fool! You deserve a good punishment and not the reward I promised you!"

"Are you going to punish me tonight?"

She smiled. "Yup! You should tell Ed you'd like to take me to your house so he can stay at my sister's without me being there. It would be the perfect capstone to a perfect evening. What excuse could we come up with?"

"Uh...that I have to deliver a Speech tomorrow morning...but that I can't be convinced of the quality...and then you..."

"But you're a genius! Then I, even though I have been drinking (very little), have to come to your house to give you courage with the writing of your Speech! But darling you are fabulous!"

Pay the bill, checked.

Accompany Ed and Betty to Betty's house, checked.

Asked my girlfriend at the last minute to accompany me to my place, to correct the Speech, leaving Betty alone with Ed: checked.

Driving the car, Listening to my girlfriend's moans and groans as she masturbated under her fancy dress from which she had removed the g-thong: checked.

Eating my refined girlfriend's pussy, and not stopping before she orgasms: checked.

Pampering and aftercare: checked.

Waiting until she regains her strength, takes the initiative, and sucks my cock; checked.

Masturbating her with my finger during a blowjob, feeling that she is soaked, lying her down, and fucking her: checked.

Turning a boring evening into a memorable one: checked.

A Good Valentine's Day: checked.

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Chapter 3. Steak and blowjob.

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It was Sunday, March 7. After making love together, with two resounding orgasms from me and a powerful orgasm from her, I lay semi-conscious on my bed.

My girlfriend buttoned her blouse and said, "I would like to beg you not to cum until Friday...my aunt left me the keys to the cabin at the lake, and I must keep my promise: Steak and Blowjob." His voice was serious, but he was smiling, as if he found the idea amusing and intriguing.

But I knew she would also want romance and even orgasms for her, and I proposed a form of compromise between gentlemen: "February 14 was not so boring for me, Betty is nice even though she plays the virgin, and Ed is a good guy, awkward but sincere... You don't need to sacrifice yourself for the whole weekend, let's just forget about it and act as usual..."

"Ah no, first of all, I promised, and I want to keep. Second, I have already bought a headband in perfect prehistoric style, and an elastic band to make a ponytail, which is mandatory for a blowjob. Third, I sincerely believe it could be a fun thing if only you would be willing to leave your comfort zone and try the adventure of something new and unknown..."

"And tell me, baby, in these adventures of yours into the past, do you have any other demands? Do you perhaps want me, as your knight, to put on a chastity belt like the medieval ladies?"

"You fool! The prehistoric people did not have chastity belts! If anything, they tried to take advantage of every opportunity to be fertile, since they died in their 20s and had no time to waste!"

"Okay..."

"Promise you won't masturbate? I know you masturbate almost every day, and I agree with you, but even if I never asked you, would you do it for me?"

"Would you put a lock on me with a key?"

"Always with that fixation of yours! Not this week. For this week I'll settle for you promising not to dump the bales. I'd like you to flood me with semen on Saturday--three, four, maybe five times, and for that goal, you need the bales to be blue."

"I promise"

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The week went by in a flash. I was working so much but I was always thinking about her. She, perhaps, was thinking about me, but messages and phone calls gave nothing away.

On Thursday night her last message said "Pick me up in front of my workplace on Friday at 5 p.m.: we will go directly to the lake house."

At 5 p.m. sharp I was in the parking lot. I almost didn't recognize her! She had been to the hairdresser's and had dyed her hair red, like a Flintstones character: and around her neck, she wore a necklace made up of large irregular globes, each similar to a pearl but less smooth.

She wore a short light-colored skirt, blazer, and heeled shoes. She had no luggage: in her hand, she held the smallest purse she had (what she called "la baguette" after the French bread). I expected her to have a small trolley with things for the weekend, but instead, she had only the handbag.

"But you didn't bring anything?"

She smiled at me and said, "For you, my Fred, I don't need luggage this weekend...I will be Wilma Flintstone née Slaghoople...and just the thought of it makes me wet as a puddle. I will be the prehistoric slave of your desires... my new caveman... in my purse, I have only a toothbrush and a headband, and that's all I need. Uh! Please stop after that light, we need to pick up the meat I reserved for your steaks."

She stayed in the car while I picked up the package from the butcher.

I put all the food in the trunk and then sat in the driver's seat.

While I was absent, she had taken off her shoes and blouse and tossed them in the back-she was wearing only her blazer and skirt.

"Guess what kind of panties I'm wearing? If you guess I'll masturbate for you."

"Give me at least a hint, fabric, color..."

"No! Giggle! No clue!"

"Then I'll guess -- that you're not wearing any panties!"

"Exactly! And as a bonus, now I'm going to masturbate while you drive, with my bare feet against the windshield glass, and tell you all the things I'm going to do to you over the weekend, to try to get you excited...by the way, do you like this new bra?"

"I bet you took your bra off, too."

"That's right! I'm all naked for you...Mr. Prehistoric..."

My Wilma began to masturbate as she told me techniques of blowjobs done in the past or that she would like to do soon. Those narratives turned her on because every so often she would pause to masturbate more intensely; but she would stop before she came, to remain in a perpetual state of arousal without release.

After almost an hour of driving (and an hour of edge tension), we arrived at the lake house.

I got out of the car and opened the trunk to get the meat.

She got out on the passenger side, and took off her skirt and blazer, remaining naked.

"Do you like to see me naked in front of the house, honey?"

"Yes, but there's still time before you cook me dinner, honey."

"Then it's a good time for the first blowjob."

She gathered her hair in the elastic band and knelt. With her nimble hands, she knew how to turn me on: one finger behind, one hand on my balls, the other hand to teach the cum in which direction to go to land all in her throat.

She unhooked the necklace of irregular beads.

She rolled the necklace around my cock. As she moved the necklace up and down, she rubbed the irregularities on my skin and gave me an even stiffer erection.

Then she removed the necklace and took it all in her mouth, moaning and groaning.

We hadn't even entered the house yet, and already I had cum like a bull.

She showed me her tongue. It wasn't impertinent mockery: it was proof that she had already swallowed it all!

"Thank you very much, Mr. Caveman!"

"You're welcome."

"Oh, I think for millions of years, mankind's oldest joke has been "No, you are well... come!"

We went inside the small house. The decor was very simple. A small living room with a large fireplace and a sofa; behind the sofa, a small kitchen, with a few pots and pans and a coffee pot.

One door led to the bathroom and the other to the bedroom. What else does a man need? This house was heaven.