Valentine Birthday

My daughter insisted I take her and three of her friends out for a Valentine's Day dinner celebration. It was also her friend Breann's birthday. Since I had other commitments on Saturday the 14th, I agreed to take them out on Friday the thirteenth. The significance of the date didn't cross my mind. I got home from work, still in suit and tie and cleaned up. My daughter and I got into the car and drove through the neighborhood, gathering the young ladies.

"Hello, Mr. Marcus."

Breann was the only girl who acknowledged my presence with a direct greeting. She wore a long sleeve shiny red blouse and a knee-length pleated white skirt.

I learned en route by listening to the conversation of my passengers that Breann was the oldest of the pack, turning eighteen the next day, Valentine's Day.

We were greeted at the restaurant, our reservation in order, and we were led to our table. My daughter had selected a teppan style Japanese restaurant, the kind where you sit around a hot table in a semi-circle and watch the food being prepared. I was positioned in the middle, my daughter on my left and Breann, the birthday girl, on my right. Two other couples filled the nine-seat table.

Everything was going along fine. I ordered a vodka and fruit juice drink. The girls all had Shirley Temples and groused about it. At their persistent urging, I let Bree take a sip of my drink, as a special benefit accorded the birthday girl.

As the chef performed his first feat of daring with his knife, the whole table "ooh"ed and "aah"ed. As he continued and the group was about to make its obligatory sound, Bree placed her left hand high on my thigh. As the chef started flipping food up in the air and cutting it with deft strokes, Bree was stroking my thigh, running her hand up and down, getting dangerously close to my crotch. It was a purely physiological reaction, but I was getting an erection. Bree wouldn't have to move her hand any closer and soon she'd be rubbing my penis. I took her hand off my leg and placed it in her lap. Bree frowned. I noticed that Bree had consumed almost all of my drink. I ordered a refill, for myself. After all, I was getting thirsty from all of the salty soy sauce in the stir fried vegetables.

"What's the matter, Bree?" my daughter asked.

"Oh, I don't like Japanese food," she replied casually, picking at the mushrooms and onions piled on her ceramic tray.

I wondered if my daughter had asked anyone else's opinion about the destination for this outing. Obviously she hadn't, cleaning her tray and swiping things from other with skillful chopstick movements. Bree and I had a friendly competition, who could get to my drink more often. Since I was still eating, she was winning. I paid the bill and we all went out to the car.

I dropped off the other two girls, who finally said something directly to me - "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Marcus. Happy Valentine's Day." I pulled into Bree's driveway just a few houses down the block from ours but she balked.

"We went out to celebrate my birthday and I didn't even get a meal or anything."

She was right, and it was mostly my daughter's fault.

"Where would you like to go?" I asked, trying to make up for my daughter's faux pas.

"The Castle. Besides, they give you a free ice cream sundae on your birthday," Bree replied.

I backed out and drove to The Castle. Even at ten thirty, they were pretty crowded with folks looking for an ice cream snack in the middle of winter. My daughter sat across from me in the booth. Bree decided to sit next to me instead of next to my daughter.

"I'll have a quarter pound burger, fries and a free sundae for my birthday."

When Bree showed an ID, the waitress balked.

"Your birthday isn't until tomorrow."

I intervened.

"We'd be happy to sit here for another hour and fifteen minutes."

The waitress chatted with her manager, who had the sense to grant Bree her sundae. Bree was the only one eating, devouring her burger like someone who was starving. My daughter and I just sat there keeping her company.

'Oh, my napkin slid off my lap. My hands are all yucky and I don't want to stain my new skirt. Could you please put it back, Mr. Marcus?"

I reached down and fetched the napkin off the floor. It was still clean. I placed it on Bree's lap, gently.

"Smooth it down, so it won't fall off again."

I ran my hand over the napkin in Bree's lap. I was aware that her legs were slightly apart, and my hand was caressing the valley between her thighs. I pulled my hand back as if it had been burnt. Bree giggled. The waitress brought out Bree's complementary desert. It was piled high with whip cream and topped by a single red cherry.

"You can have my cherry for being so nice," Bree said.

The double meaning was not lost on me, especially the way she said it. She handed me the small fruit on a stem.

"I just love ice cream, don't you?" Bree asked. There was a dab of whipped cream on her face, at the corner of her lips. It was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. Even when she licked her lips, it hung there. Both my daughter and I tried to direct her to it, but were unsuccessful. Her tongue danced around but kept missing the target.

"Why don't you get it for me?" Bree asked.

I was closer to Bree.. I swiped the dab from her face with my finger. I was about to wipe it off on my napkin.

"Oh, don't waste it," Bree said.

With that, she took my hand by the wrist and stuck my finger in her mouth. She sucked it for all she was worth. I had to wait until she was done; her grip and suction were so strong. My erection returned. I hoped it would go down before we had to stand up. I dawdled over my glass of water.

When we got to the car, Bree whispered in my daughter's ear and got in the front seat, in between us. I felt Bree's warm body against mine as I drove. Fortunately, her hands stayed in her lap.

"You can just go home. I'll walk to my house," Bree said.

"No, not this late at night. Dad, why don't you walk Bree home?"

It was a good idea. I figured Bree's buzz from my drink had worn off by now, especially with the late meal she had.

"See you tomorrow, daddy," said my daughter as she walked up to our front door.

Bree took my hand as we walked down the sidewalk to her house.

All of the lights were off.

'Are you going to be okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure. But, before you go, want to see what I got for Valentine's Day?"

I agreed.

"It's back here."

Bree took my hand and led me to the backyard. There was a freestanding shed with large glass windows at the back of the property.

"It's my mom's greenhouse."

Bree opened the door and led me into the darkness. She pulled a chain and a fluorescent grow light came on. There, on the potting table, was a miniature rose bush.

"Isn't it beautiful? When it gets warmer, I'm going to plant it in the garden."

"Yes, it's lovely."

"Mr. Marcus, can we talk about, you know, what I did tonight?"

"I think that's a good idea, Bree."

I hated to think what someone who wasn't in control would have done, given the way Bree came on to me. There was no place to sit, just the potting table.

"Oh, I don't want to get my new white skirt all dirty."

Bree unbuttoned the garment and it fell to the floor, exposing her shapely legs and a pair of white panties decorated with hearts.

"Help me up," she asked.

I placed my hands under her arms and lifted as she jumped.

"Thanks."

Before I could back away, Bree had her arms around my neck, pulling my face to hers. Her lips tasted mine. I pulled away, shocked at her continuing efforts.

"Bree, what in the world are you doing?"

"Don't be angry with me, Mr. Marcus. I just want you to be my valentine."

"Well, that's very sweet, Bree, but I think I'm a little old for you."

"No you're not. Not for what I need."

Bree spread her legs. The light was dim but I thought I noticed a wet spot on the crotch of Bree's panties.

"What time is it?" she asked.

I pushed a button on my digital watch.

""Eleven fifty five."

"Oh good, only five more minutes until I'm legal."

My head started to spin. I was trying to remember what laws I'd be violating if I violated Bree on her eighteenth birthday. Even though she was legal, I was sure I'd be breaking some law. I just didn't remember which one.

"Bree, if you really want to do this, you should pick someone your own age."

I couldn't believe I was turning down this opportunity. I hoped Bree didn't notice the bulge in my pants.

"I tried, Mr. Marcus, I really did. Last weekend, I went out with a boy from school. He had a condom and everything. But when he put his hands on my breasts, he came all over my legs. You wouldn't do that, would you?"

I guessed this was a test. I could have just walked away and gone home. A furious masturbation would relieve me just fine. When I looked back at Bree, she had unbuttoned her red blouse. Her bra was pink but simple, even juvenile.

"Would you hang this up for me?'

I took the blouse at arms length, picking up her skirt at the same time. I hung them on a hook near the door. When I turned around, Bree's bra was on the potting table next to her. Her youthful but firm mounds of flesh looked pink in the glow of the grow light. Her nipples looked like the cherry on top of her sundae.

"Come here," she commanded.

I obeyed. She brought my hands up to her breasts. My erection pulsed in my pants. I now understood why the young man had trouble. This was an extremely erotic experience.

"See, you might be all hot, but you're not cumming now, are you?"

I nodded no.

"Let me check."

I was torn. This was my neighbor's kid, for cripes sake. On the other hand, she was legal in about a minute. I unbuckled and unzipped. My pants fell to the floor. Bree placed her hand into my jockey shorts.

"Oh, you're all hot and hard, but you haven't spunked. Yet."

Bree had expectations. I had desires. I stepped forward, between Bree's legs. Our tongues danced like familiar partners. Bree was no novice to foreplay. I moved my mouth down to her breasts, kissing them, licking her nipples, sucking them, and trying to return the favor she did to my finger. Bree's breathing was more rapid.

"Oh, Mr. Marcus, I knew you'd be my valentine. Do you think I'm ready?"

Bree raised her hips so I could slide her panties down. I sampled her wetness first with my finger, then with my tongue.

"Oh, oh, oh, deeper, eat me deeper."

A man's tongue is only so long. If a woman wants it deeper, then a man has to change tools. I slid down my jockeys and positioned myself between the moist outer lips of Bree's pussy.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Never more sure in my whole life. And don't worry, I broke it myself."

I didn't want to know what she used. I moved in without obstruction.

"Oh god, you're filling me up. Ugh, ugh, more, give me the whole thing."

I glanced at my watch. It was midnight. I pushed my penis all the way into the virgin depths of Bree's cunt.

"Happy birthday, Bree," I said.

"I'm legal? Fuck me," she demanded.

I plunged in and out, over and over, as Bree's butt bounced around the table. I wanted Bree to have a satisfying sexual experience but I wanted to pull out before I came. I though she might like a cum shower on her tits. Even if she didn't, I did. Bree was grunting and moaning pretty loud. I was surprised it didn't wake her whole family. I was getting pretty close, my balls had risen up and I could feel the semen assembling for duty. I figured a couple more strokes and I'd splatter her chest with my juices. I changed the angle of my attack, to get more friction. I got more friction, all right. I rubbed the bottom of my dick against the edge of the potting table. The pain of a sliver in such a sensitive area was unbelievable. I lost all control when the wave of pain struck. I didn't even notice that I had an orgasm, shooting my seed into Bree's tender young cunt. Bree knew.

"Oh, goodie."

Goodie? Oh, the pain.

"Oh, Mr. Marcus, thank you. You made me a real woman with your sperm. I'm glad you didn't do something gross like get my tits all wet."

I pulled out of Bree and doubled over in pain.

"What's the matter? Oh my, did I do something wrong?"

"I got a sliver in my penis. From the wooden table."

"Let me see."

Bree was on her knees, using my pants for padding. She lifted my penis and moved her face close.

"Oh, I see it. There's a little blood. Do you want me to take it out?"

I didn't think I could do this myself, and I certainly couldn't ask my wife or daughter to do it.

"Yes, if you can."

"Oh sure, I've done this lots of times."

I figured she meant taking out slivers. Bree used a fingernail to slide the shard of wood out from under my skin. I could tell she was successful when the pain vanished. The substitute feeling was my penis in Bree's mouth. She was sucking me to another erection. My knees were shaking and my hips convulsed. I was jamming my erection further and further into Bree's mouth and down her throat.

"Oh, Bree, oh, shoot."

Bree pulled my hips forward, and I gave Bree something to wash down the ice cream. I was barely able to stand.

"I don't know about you, but I'm pretty well done in."

"You were terrific, Mr. Marcus. You'll always be my one and only, my first, and my valentine."

I tasted myself on her lips and tongue. We both got dressed, turned off the light and headed for our respective homes.

"Good night, Bree. I hope you got what you wanted."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Marcus, I did. And just think, I'm just the first one in our group to turn eighteen."

I considered the implications of that remark all the way home.