Bad Math and Cheating Death~ Happy Birthday to Me!

Today happens to be my birthday. Really though, it's a Wednesday, and as you're reading this I am slaving away at my day job when I would much rather be in comfy clothes, lounging on the couch with a cat or two. 

I turn 34 today. Which is actually pretty exciting because I think somewhere around January I had prematurely aged myself and stopped thinking I was 33 and thought I was already 34. So one day last week I was thinking about how I was turning 35 this year and getting very depressed (because 35 sounds important, at 35 you can be president, by 35 you should have done things with your life). But then I did some math, some actual math where I had to remember what year we were in and then subtracted my year of birth—it was all way more complicated than it should have been because a person should know how old they actually are!

It's all cleared up now. 34. For an entire year! I added a whole year to my life and pretty much cheated death (or I'm just so bad at math I can't remember how old I am).

This year has been a struggle in a lot of different ways. I've been feeling less like myself lately. Nothing tragic, I just haven't been feeling like going out and being a little social butterfly.

This past weekend we were going to a party at a friend's house. We were going to see friends we hadn't seen in a while who I really really wanted to see. But I just couldn't get myself into the socializing mood. 

I was wearing a cute little sundress (because the past week has felt like we are living on the surface of the sun) and I decided to put on cuter panties. I mean, that's normal, right? Doesn't everyone change their panties when they feel like they need a little lift in their mood?

I put on a lacy red thong to match my red dress and as I walked past Mr. McKay, I flashed him. He followed me into the kitchen and proceeded to lift up the back of my dress as I bent over to get some beer out of the fridge. I was trying to get some cans out of a case of beer we had bought so I could bring them to the party we were going to. Mr. McKay used this moment to spank my ass. But apparently I am not just bad at math, but also science and knowing how gravity works because I opened the side of the box and they all started rolling out at me.

I'm hunched over, trying to catch beer cans before they drop on my feet or hit the floor and explode and Mr. McKay continues smacking my bare ass.

"Stop!" I yelled, catching a few more cans as the tumbled out of the fridge.

"No." He's calm as can be, like we're not about to have exploding beer cans all over the floor.

"I'm fucking this up!" I catch two more and shove them on a lower shelf before preparing to catch the next three. My frustration level heightens as he smacks me harder and I jerk forward.

"Yeah. You are." The last and the hardest smack comes before he bends over me and stands the box on its end, rescuing the last of the beer. 

Not sure why I didn't think to do that.

We were going to be late if we kept up our shenanigans, but we did make out like a couple of teenagers while he cupped my hot ass in his hands. This only serves as further reminder that I need to get a curtain for our kitchen window, you never know who could be out back!

One last thing. In honor of my birthday, I want to give you all a gift, all of my KU books are free until Sunday. If you've already read them, tell a friend!

Here's a link to my author page! Happy Reading :)

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A Love/Hate Relationship and High Five Worthy Sex

My birthday was this week. It came and went, but we took time to celebrate and we re-connected in a way we had not been able to since I broke my ankle.

Our sexual escapades since mid-May have been pretty much non-existent. Sure we've had sex since then, there had even been some spanking. But we never went all out kinky and there was always an air of caution.

I was still hindered with the medical boot on my actual birthday. But getting around much better, pain has been minimal and mobility has been good, so I was ready to rock!

Mr. McKay did some online shopping and got me some kinky sex toys (which always leads to interesting conversations with other people in our lives: "So what'd you get for your birthday?" Uh...nothing).

Among these gifts were a leather slapper and a new butt plug. I was super excited about both. We had a leather paddle, I guess it was kind of flimsy and cheap because it started coming apart (on my ass) which was unpleasant.

Mr. McKay shopped around and bought a heavier duty one. It is called a slapper, which I get why it's called that because it consists of two pieces of leather that slap together and make a slapping sound. But I feel like 'slapper' makes it sound like it's a kid's toy. Like those little plastic clapper hands, anyone know what I'm talking about?

I was a tiny bit crestfallen. The package said "slapper" I mistakenly thought "toy" and also mistakenly thought that it had two pieces slapping together to make it sound loud when really it would not be a hard strike.

You notice I said "mistaken" many times? Yep. Just keep reading.

The butt plug is stainless steel and has a green jewel on the base. I was excited! We had a glass one that cracked and I have always wanted to try stainless steel. Plus, the green jewel matches a set of lingerie I have and I get so excited about matching things!

I got a few other things we have not tried out yet, so I will wait to post about them.

Our night started out with me getting on my lingerie (first time since the breakage), I forgot how sexy lingerie can make me feel. Of course, it was a bit downplayed by they giant boot, but you know, far sexier than the yoga pants I've been living in.

Then the butt plug. Heavy, cold, pretty awesome :)

Then, hey, I guess we'll try out this slapper. I'm still bent over the bed and looking away, so I am not entirely prepared with the first smack. My eyes go wide and I rear my head up. Yeah, it was loud from the "slapping" of the leather pieces. The he smacks me again.

The pain registers this time and I yell out. One more and I am done.

"Ow, ow, ow! Stop!" I roll over onto my back. Wtf? What the hell is this thing?

I very rarely ever ask Mr. McKay to stop a spanking. I want spankings, all the time. Even if I am not really in the mood, if he initiates I am not turning him down. It's taken us a long time for it to get to the point where he actually spanks hard enough. Sometimes I have to fight with myself to not ask him to stop. Because he will. If I say stop, he stops.

Sometimes I wish he wouldn't because sometimes I say it but don't mean it. But not this time. 

We both froze, me still laying back awkwardly on the bed, my hands covering my naked ass. Him standing before me with the newly acquired paddle.

He gives me a puzzled look. 

I have instant regret. I remember it has taken us a long time to get to this point. I had to beg and cajole into some spankings. I had to reassure and reassure more that I liked it and wanted it, and yes it hurt, but I wanted it to hurt. And I am so so so scared that I just undid all of that. Years of growth, in one moment.

Words rush to my mouth. "I meant stop, for now. Not all the time."

He looks unsure.

"I was caught off guard! It's heavier than I thought. It's heavy right? I mean, like, no joke. But I want more," I say. Then I eye the thing again. "Later. Not now. I need to..." What do I need? My ass still stings. I want more. But good god, what is this weapon?

The Best/Worst Thing Ever

I get a smile. "Relax, let's have drinks."

So we did. We drank. We ate guacamole. We watched some TV. Is this our foreplay? Perhaps it is.

We go back upstairs and I requested the Magic Wand, because it is my birthday after all. So with the plug in and the wand on, I am back over the end of the bed.

He starts out with these light slaps of the leather paddle. I quickly look over my shoulder and scowl, "You can go harder than that! I wasn't prepared before."

"Relax. I'm just starting up!" He gives me a look and I turn back around.

I think this is my new thing to love to hate. God. It was hard and intense and just...what I needed. Coupled with the wand and the plug. I came and came. And then I tried to twist away from the spanks. He caught the tops of my thighs and I almost got away but he pushed me back down.

It was amazing!

And then I squirted. Which is always a bizarre feeling, if you ask me, but Mr. McKay was pretty proud of himself. 

We had amazing anal sex. Like, I don't want to brag, but we have a terrible track record. Between height differences and bad backs, and just freak things happening. It was like, high-five worthy, fuck yeah, we got this! Amazing.

He finished on my face and chest. I was still riding the euphoric afterglow of an orgasm. My body was vibrating in pleasure. You know it's good when your legs are shaking and you need to sit for a second before you can regain the power of speech.

If you had told me ten years ago that some of the best sex in my life would consist of being called a whore and having cum on my face I would have thought you were crazy. It would have secretly excited me, but I would have denied it. Luckily, I got over that and can admit what I like.

It was a good night. One I think we will remember for a long time. One we will probably judge future nights against. It's nice to have that once in a while. 

Afterwards, we laid in our bed together, groggy with sleep, sticky messes and I said it might have been my best birthday ever. But really, it didn't matter it was my birthday. It was just one of the best nights we had had in a long time and it was much needed.

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Let's Raise a Glass (It's the Adult Thing to Do)

This week brings my 33rd birthday. I enjoy birthdays. Mine. Other people's. I fully believe in celebrating and taking the time to remember to enjoy every moment. 

I remember being a kid and adults saying that time moves quicker when you're older. This didn't make any sense to me then. How could time move quicker? It obviously always moves at the same speed. But now that I am an adult the time between my birthdays has grown shorter. The time between holidays has shrank immensely. The time between one month to the next is almost non-existent (Didn't we just pay the rent??).

The thing about being in your thirties—getting very close to mid-thirties—is you don't feel any older. At least I don't. And talking to other people, they have all sort of said the same thing. I guess when I was younger I thought I would hit a certain age and feel like an adult. But the truth is I don't feel any different than I did at nineteen.

Okay, actually at nineteen I felt a lot smarter. Life has knocked me down a few pegs since then. So maybe I don't feel any different than I did at twenty three.

I thought when I moved out of my parent's house I would feel like an adult. I didn't. Maybe when I got married? Nope. So maybe when we have kids? Maybe then.

But I don't know, I have friends who have kids and I still look at them sometimes and think, who let you do that? Mr. McKay and I went to visit our really good friends in the hospital the day after they had their son (he's five now, and seriously, I feel like this was yesterday). We were standing around, talking, looking at the little alien creature and his little fingers and his adorable tiny mouth—when he started wailing.

I don't think I will ever forget the look on my friends' faces. A look of complete what-the-hell-do-we-do-now? I think the four of us wanted to find the nearest adult, but oh, that was us. When did that happen?

I definitely had a very vivid idea of what I thought being an adult would be like. Dinner parties. Adults have dinner parties. They have people over and they drink fancy drinks out of fancy glasses and everyone is very adult-like and civilized. The result is Mr. McKay and I own a ton of glasses. More than two people should. I just recently had to weed out some glasses from the cabinet because we couldn't fit any more on the shelf.

Why is this? Because when we got married six years ago we registered for glasses. We like to drink and we like to have people over. So we got drinking glasses, and pint glasses, beer mugs, martini glasses, margarita glasses, rocks glasses, and wine glasses. We don't drink wine. But we have friends who do and I thought it would be rude to make them drink wine out of a pint glass. 

I think I also thought that we were going to need all of these glasses. We would entertain and obviously have dinner parties and we would need glasses for all types of drinks.

But as it turns out, we still live in our rented townhouse that does not have a dishwasher. We figured out really quick that if we have more than two people over it's just easier to use disposable cups and dishes.  We throw a big St. Patrick's Day party every year. The first year we had it I made cocktails. We used all of our glasses. I feel like I washed dishes for days after that party.

Every year since, we get disposable everything. I still make cocktails, but everything gets served in a red solo cup. That is just how we roll in the McKay house.

So yeah, we still very much live like we are in college. I am not sure we will ever grow up. Maybe it's just us. Maybe we should be acting our age and making conscious choices to be more adult-like.

Maybe one day I will stop wearing graphic t's and ripped jeans with beat up sneakers. I'll buy nice clothes with 'dry clean only' tags because adults do things like dry clean stuff more than once a year (or in the three days before that wedding you have to go to when you realize your husband's suit jacket still smells like stale beer from the last wedding you went to).

One day I'll feel like an adult, right? But to be honest, I'm kind of glad it's not today.

You guys want to come over for my birthday? I'll make us some margaritas, but can you stop and buy some plastic cups? We're almost out.

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