A Steak and a Blowjob

Image via Pixabay

March 14 might be the official Steak and Blowjob day, but in the Brownstone-Lords household, we celebrate on October 28. Well, we do now that we’ve hit our one year wedding anniversary. (That’s right, October 28 is our wedding anniversary, and we were married in 2017.)

Neither of us wanted to get cards. I’m notoriously unsentimental about them. And we’re both beyond the point of feeling a card can say something that we can’t say ourselves.

When we got married in 2017, we had grand plans about what we would do on our first anniversary…go back on the dinner cruise where we were married, have a weekend to ourselves, and basically eat, drink and be merry.

In the post-wedding glow, those plans made sense. But we live in the real world where there never seems to be enough time to plan the special things, so we take what we can get.

That morning, all we knew for sure was steak would be in our future. The blowjob? Well that was a pleasant surprise for both of us.

6:00 a.m.

It’s too dark. What’s happening? I don’t want to wake up.

Wait. Is that his cock twitching? Gawd it feels good. Okay, I’m awake enough for this. 

If I just…move my hips…nope. We’re going to need lube.

Gaaaaaawd-daaaaaaamn I love that first thrust. Yes, oh yes. 

Will my eyes open?

Nope. But who cares? Fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckmeeeeeee!

9:00 a.m.

Coffee. I need fucking coffee. Don’t anyone talk to me yet. 

Where is the coffee??

I plopped myself down on the couch, Queen Babygirl for the day. I didn’t want to take off my pajamas, and I didn’t want to do anything until I needed to get ready for our dinner date. And I didn’t. I drank coffee and did my own thing on the couch all day long.

John Brownstone indulged all of my whims. He put on Disney movies and made sure we had plenty of coffee. I cross-stitched (a thing I do that calms my nerves in a very real way) until my shoulders ached. It was a glorious day.

6:00 p.m.

A quick summary of our night out for anyone who’s curious: Two giant steaks. Two giant coffees. Selfies all over social media. Now you know everything.

10:30 p.m.

Lying in bed we talked about our goals, the past year, what we wanted, who we are, and the meaning of life (The official answer is 42.). After such a good, peaceful, perfect day, this moment of intimacy was everything. If you knew nothing about us, that moment would be the perfect illustration.

Me with big ideas, big plans, and too much sass. Him, reasoned, calm, but not one to shy away from his thoughts and feelings.

He was ready to turn in, and I knew what he was thinking.

We fucked this morning, so we’re probably good.

But something was missing. I’d been indulged, cosseted, and spoiled for a solid 12 hours. What about John Brownstone? Had he gotten what he needed, wanted, and deserved? It didn’t feel like it to me.

I looked down at his cock nestled against his balls and my mouth watered.

His dick in my mouth would be a win for both of us.

With one, slow, long lick, I traced my tongue from tip to stern. He’d been so relaxed during our conversation he wasn’t even hard.

Let’s see about that.

Pulling his cock into my mouth, I wrapped my lips and tongue around him, exploring each vein and ridge with the tip of my tongue. Applying pressure to his shaft with the flat of my tongue. And once he was hard, focusing all of my suction power on his glans, the spot I knew would make him forget to breathe.

As he grew in my mouth, I could take a little less of him down my throat. I grasped his balls and massaged them against the base of his cock. His grunt of pleasure was all I needed to know this was the correct thing to do.

Every time I felt him relax against the pillow, draw a normal breath, or indicate he could think rationally, I focused all my oral attention on his glans again. He was my Tootsie Pop and I was ready to get to the center. Even if it meant I sucked the spine right out of him. All in the name of pleasure, after all.

Just as I felt his balls tighten in my palm, he pulled me off of him and tossed me to the side. Lube out, cock in, and he fucked me.

It was my turn…

The early morning sex and orgasm meant he wouldn’t get off right away. I knew there was a chance he might not at all. It didn’t matter. If he wanted to fuck me, I wanted to be fucked.

It wasn’t his cock in my cunt that mattered so much, as good as it felt. The real action was everywhere else.

The smack on my cheek. Three, if I counted correctly.

Pinched and flicked nipples.

Scratches down my thighs and shoulders.

Countless and cruel smacks on my ass. He pulled back, SMACK, and then thrust.

So. Much. Hair. Pulling. I cried out, shrieking at the intensity of the pain, wondering if I could handle it, loving every second.

It was my job to keep my cries to a minimum, though. It’s cool enough to open the windows, and our neighbor sits on her back porch at night. Just knowing I couldn’t scream made me wild with the need to do it.

He flicked my clit, and I shuddered around his cock. So he did it again. And again. But it wasn’t quite enough.

And, truth be told, I was wondering if he was ever going to come.

“Can I grab the vibrator?”

“Fuck…yeah…” He’d worked up a sweat and was panting.

I know how to hold it so that we both get those deep, rumbly vibrations. It didn’t take long before my cunt clenched and gripped and squeezed. And then squirted and gushed and coated us both.

We nearly came at the same time at the end, but timing has never mattered to us…as long as we were together.

Welcome to Masturbation Monday! October 28, 2018 was officially a perfect day. All of my babygirl whims indulged and a day bookended with good sex. That day is definitely a keeper. If you’re looking for more smut, much of it Halloween-themed, you know where to go!