Steak & BJ After Decades Of Neglect - Sex Stories

Steak & BJ After Decades Of Neglect

... (Liverpool) came onto the field with their eyes ablaze with a decision: "We don't give up, it's not over, it's not too late, we can still turn the tables." The captain, Gerrard, scored the first goal. A defender scored the second goal. The Italians panicked. They blundered, they made mistakes. The equalizing goal came. And in the end, the English won.

This match always aroused great emotions in me. It showed that despite the mistakes in the first phase, we always have time to make up for them. My wife had remembered that I liked to watch that game, but perhaps she was not fully aware of the metaphorical meaning: 20 years of failed valentines could be compensated with 20 years of glorious March 14th.

"90?" she asked.

"A normal game lasts 90 minutes. But here we have extra time and penalties. It's at least two hours, even longer. If you need to pee you can ask me."

"No... Thanks... Sir."

Without further words, he continued to lick my cock, which was becoming flaccid, to clean every drop of cum. She did not take off her heels, did not ask for the liberation of her elbows, and continued to lick my balls and shaft for the entire First half of 45 minutes.

I decided it was time for meat. I got up and went to get the two cardboard boxes. It was still hot, but not boiling: perfect. It wasn't a real steak (the restaurant's policy advised against taking steaks home) but it was two gorgeous burgers.

Mine was truly primal. Two huge portions of meat separated by ...

... onion, chili, and bacon: my wife was not afraid my breath would get worse, or she was willing to suffer that too to make me happy.

Hers was slightly more feminine, but still prehistoric: a portion of baby meat, with cheese and pistachio seeds. I noticed that her burger had arrived already and cut into small bites.

"What?"

"Meow!" she meowed, with a smile.

What a fool I am. Among the fantasies I had often confessed to her during pillow talks after orgasm, one was that she would open the door naked to a delivery boy at a pizza stand. But another, was for her, handcuffed, to eat her dinner from the bowl, without hands or forks. I had almost forgotten; she had remembered.

She meowed, like a kitten, to draw my attention to the drawer of the coffee table. I opened it. Inside was a striped, furry tail that I had bought many years ago and had never wanted to wear. It was connected with a metal anal plug. There was also a gel packet but a post-it note read "don't need it" written in her soft handwriting.

While I admired the contents of the drawer, she was crouched on her thighs, crouched. Her fully shaven rosebud was exposed to the air, and she was begging me to stick the plug of her tail into her so she could begin to eat from the bowl.

I stuck a fingertip in to feel if she was hot. She was hot. I stroked the groove between her labia: it was wet and hot. My wife had never been a submissive woman, but all that preparation had turned her on.

I decided to use a little ...