|Thanks to Etta Stark for sharing this pic!|
This year I think he was a little more grumpy about it because, well, let's just say he is now of the age that he can legally run for president of the United States. I told him age was just a number and he told me that's only something old people say. (Do you see what I'm up against here?)
Since his birthday fell on the weekend, friends of ours were texting him to see what we had planned. The truth was I hadn't planned much of anything. I knew we were going to be home and I was looking forward to relaxing, just he and I.
"What should I say?" he asked when one of our friends texted wanting to know if we had anything planned.
"Well, you could tell her the truth. I thought we would just drink all day and then bang," I replied.
He shakes his head looking annoyed. "Don't tell me everything! I want some surprises."
He eventually replied that I had a full day of birthday surprises already planned out and we were just spending the day alone together. What she took that to mean, I am not sure, but I'm fairly certain she wouldn't have guessed what we were actually doing.
The greater part of our day was just normal Sunday things. I did laundry, vacuumed, made us some lunch. We lounged around and watched football. Then sometime in the afternoon we fired down some drinks. I decided it was time to bake. So I pre-heated the oven and then went upstairs to get changed.
A few years ago, Mr. McKay bought me a cute retro looking apron. This was after I baked cookies one year for Valentine's Day in skimpy underwear with a plain black apron that had grease stains on it. He figured if I was going to do such things then I should at least have the proper attire. Since then I have baked various things in my sexy apron with nothing much underneath. It's been done before, but he always enjoys it, so I figured why mess with it?
I kind of think of it as foreplay with baked goods. I'm trotting around half naked, kind of ignoring him as I am concentrating on measuring and mixing. He gets to grope and lick and taste as my hands are busy doing other things. It works out nicely for both of us. And when all is said and done we have a tasty treat waiting for us at the end of the night.
I went upstairs and opened my drawers and boxes full of frilly things. Have I mentioned before that I have an insane amount of lingerie and pretty underwear? More than one person should own. If I don't plan out ahead of time what I want to wear I can end up lost for hours trying to make a decision.
I decided to go for some thigh highs and garters (Mr. McKay's favorite, it was his birthday after all) a black thong and a lacy black and pink bra. I carefully pulled the thigh highs on, I can't even tell you the amount of times I have tried to put these things on and I end up putting a finger or a toe through the delicate material. Then I began trying to hook them up to the garters.
Here is where I need to ask, does anyone have a trick for this? I can always attach the
ones in the front, but the backs give me problems. There has to be an easier way, right? Please share, any and all information will help me out. After close to ten minutes and working up an unladylike sweat, I left the suckers unhooked and went back downstairs.
This led to a very sexy interlude where Mr. McKay tried to help me hook my stockings to my garters. He couldn't do it either, and part of the time I think he was confused as to what he was doing because his fingers weren't touching the hooks or the thigh highs.
On to the baking. I make cookies from scratch, recently I have made muffins from scratch and pancakes. But I have attempted to make home made cakes a few times and each time it's a disaster. This is when I decided that Betty Crocker was probably a very nice woman and it isn't very nice if I besmirch her product after she tried so hard to perfect the recipe. So we make cakes from box mix here in the McKay house. I do make my own icing though and I think it adds a very nice home-y touch.
I got out all of my ingredients and began mixing them together in a big mixing bowl with the hand mixer. Mr. McKay came out to "help" me. Good thing the mix only called for three ingredients, he can be very distracting.
Once I poured the batter into the pan I popped the beaters out of the mixer and held one out to him. "Want a beater?"
At the same time I shook my ass at him, making my words sound like "Want to beat her?"
Mr. McKay is never one to disappoint. He pushed me up against the counter and spanked me with a flurry of hard, open handed smacks. Apparently we weren't worried about warming up, or easing into it—he just went right to spanking the daylights out of my in the kitchen (I'm writing this with a smile on my face, it hurt like a bitch and it was fantastic).
After I was screeching and panting and all worked up, he left me to whip up the icing. It didn't take long at all and I brought a bowl of it with me out into the living room. I stripped off my apron and knelt down in front of him and he painted me with chocolate icing. Then licked it all off.
We never made it upstairs, and somehow managed not to get icing on the furniture! After that we went out to get some dinner, because who has the energy to cook? Much later, I was curled up on the couch back in my hole-y yoga pants and over sized hoodie. We each had two pieces of cake, it was slightly over done at the edges, but still delicious.
Mr. McKay mused what he was going to tell all of our friends today when they asked what I had planned for him.
"Tell them the truth," I said, licking icing off my fingers.
"They'd never believe me!"
I don't think that's entirely true. I think a few of them are onto us...