Was it Something I Said?

     I think it's true when they say opposites attract. I know it's cliché to say, but I do feel like in a lot of ways my husband is truly my other half. I am very much a glass half full sort of person, optimistic, trying to see the good in every situation. He jumps to the worst conclusions and has a bit of a pessimistic outlook (he also argues that he is a realist not a pessimist, does that make me a dreamist?). This is probably the same for a lot of people. It's a good balance, you really can't have two people who both have their head in the clouds or both think the world is out to get them. I just don't know that it would work.

     We have a lot of similar interests, as our relationship started as a friendship in high school, but personality-wise we couldn't be more different.

     For instance, my husband is a pretty private person. Even with me! Sometimes I feel like I am constantly trying to wheedle information out of him. Me? I am the definition of overshare.

     So when we started delving into the kinkier side of our sex life it seemed a little odd that I kept making him promise me that he wouldn't tell anyone.

     Typical morning after a night of illicit sex acts.

          Me: Seriously, don't ever tell anyone. I would die.

          Hubby: Um, I'm pretty sure no one would believe me anyway. Plus how much of a jerk am I   when all the guys are complaining about not getting any and I'm like 'Hey! Guess what we were doing?'

          Me: I guess you're right, but just promise me?

          Hubby: I promise.

     This conversation repeated itself many times over. 

     

     Then I got invited to a bachlorette party last summer. Personally, I hate these types of nights. I was never one to go to clubs or drink a lot in bars (I mean, I drink a lot, just not at bars where it gets expensive). But I felt obligated to go, it was for one of my friends who was one of the last to get married and I didn't want her to feel like she was any less special than all the other brides I celebrated with.

     Ten of us got a few hotel rooms and a VIP section in a club. The night is pretty much a blur, I am still not sure if this is due to the alcohol or the overall exhaustion I was experiencing from a long, stressful week coupled with being awake way past my normal bedtime. There was lots of drinking, and dancing. I remember getting yelled at a few times for dancing on a table (it was a low table, like coffee table height, hardly something to be reprimanded for).

     Anyway, our night ends around 4am, with five of us at an all-night pizza place outside on the boardwalk. We were quite the hot mess. The bride was sober and miserable. Her cousin was drunk and sobbing. My one friend was yelling at the people behind the counter for not selling soft pretzels. And me and one other girl, whom I had just met that night, were inhaling pizza slices bigger than our heads. We were a picture of runny mascara and sweaty club clothes. I was also carrying my high heels tucked up under my arms so I could keep my hands free to eat my pizza (I must have been inebriated, because voluntarily going barefoot on that boardwalk? Ick!).

     We started talking about sex (because what else do you talk about at a pizza place at 4am?). I decide this is the best time to confess how much I love anal sex. I launch into a description about how much more intense my orgasms are this way and how I almost prefer this to vaginal penetration, when I glance up from my greasy, pepperoni slice to find four perplexed looks of shock. I immediately stop talking. My friend (the soft pretzel demander) starts laughing manically, she can't stop laughing long enough to get words out and just keeps shaking her head over and over. She finally manages to get out “It's so awful!” between gasps for air.

     Now I am embarrassed and defensive. I follow up with “Have you tried it?”

     “Yes! And never again!” Now I am peppering her with questions (which she is not answering, obviously not an oversharer like myself). And I start giving suggestions on “proper preparations.” (I still have not heard the last of that line, it gets brought up at many parties).

     The bride seemed disgusted and annoyed with me (she quite frequently talks about how she hates having sex, so I am not surprised by her reaction), but I peaked her cousin's interest enough to get her to stop crying.

     Our night came to a close soon after this, we trudged back to our rooms and I woke up in the morning slightly hungover and even more embarrassed. 

I shoot a quick text off to my husband 

          Had a great time last night... may have told everyone I like anal.

I hold my breath for his reply. If the tables were turned I would be totally pissed.

          Really??

 Ok, I cannot judge tone of voice in a text, is he mad?

          Um, yeah, I feel like an idiot.

Almost immediately reply-  

          LOL. So when I get a few pats on the back this weekend from the guys I'll know why?

My relief is immediate, at least my husband isn't mad.

     I endure a late breakfast with the rest of the girls, trying my best to act like I am totally cool with the information I shared the night before. Only getting a little red in the face when I am good- naturedly jabbed with comments.

     Needless to say I think I will be forever labeled the kinky friend.

     And once again I need to thank my husband for restoring the balance in our relationship, at least on his side some of our dirty little secrets might actually remain secret.

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Enjoying the Moment

      It seems everything happens in clusters. At least in my life it does. I think we just passed through the wedding cluster. This was where not only us, but almost every single one of our friends and a bunch of cousins all got married within a 5 year period. My husband and I can work a cocktail hour with an open bar like a synchronized dance at this point (“I'll go get our drinks and make friends with the bartender. You go find the waiter with the mini hot dogs. Meet you back here in 10!”).

     It was such a fun and exciting time! Weddings, dancing, friends and family. We were all starting out new chapters in our lives, pretty much at the same time, who could ask for more?

Then the cluster of home buying started. We helped so many people move (I am not helping anyone move ever again, I love you all, please hire movers). We collected lots of second hand things to fill our rented townhouse with. We were not financially stable, we were lucky we were making the rent most months. Buying a home is still not in our immediate future.

     Now we are crossing into the having babies phase. Everyone is having a baby, and if they are not having a baby, they are talking about having a baby. I want this too. We have always talked about having kids, we know we will eventually have a baby, but we don't need to do this just because people expect us to.

     People expect us to? Yes, you read that right, it is apparently expected of us that we produce children. When we were dating people would always ask if we planned on getting married. These questions never bothered me because yes, in fact we did plan on it. These questions bothered my husband, probably because I think it falls more on the guy sometimes to propose and get the ball rolling, also because he hates it when he feels like people are telling him he should be doing something. So when we would be asked by well meaning family members and friends of the family about an impending marriage I would indulge their curiosities. Even more so when we were engaged. You want to know wedding details? Sit down, I will tell you everything you want to know!

     But now we are getting questions about babies. When are we doing this? Also, unwanted advice (You don't want to be an old mother!). To the point where I want to tell everyone to mind their own business. My husband said to me the other day, “Since when did it become socially acceptable to ask me if I am screwing my wife without protection?” Because in the end, that is really what these questions are. It feels like an invasion into our personal business.

     Here is the thing, I am turning 31 one next month (!). Did I think I would have a baby by now? Yes. Maybe more than one? Yes. Do I have the occasional freak out that my eggs are going to shrivel up inside of me, leaving me barren, never able to produce children? Oh, dear God, yes! (But only occasionally.)

I've mentioned before that we got off to a rocky start financially. We are finally, after close to four years of struggling, both gainfully employed. It's still a surprise to have money left at the end of the week to buy pizza if we don't feel like cooking. We can afford to go out for drinks with friends, buy tickets to the burlesque show, buy things for ourselves other than the bare essentials.

     We are even planning a little vacation. Probably a long weekend, somewhere we can drive to, but we are still going away!! We never even had a honeymoon. So yes, let us enjoy each other, with a little extra money to spend. Not that the last four years haven't been fantastic, but I will not miss the money related stress.

A friend of mine said people are just curious, it's something to talk about when you aren't sure what to talk about. That's fine, but when you ask if we are planning on having a baby yet and I say no, stop pressing me. Because I will list all my reasons of why it is not the right time for us. And then when you say “There's never a right time.” I will want to scream.

     So right now we are not planning a specific time. We are being very unplanned and just enjoying the moment. I'm not asking you about your sexual activities, please don't ask me about mine (unless you happen to stumble onto my blog, where I will just tell you all about mine!). Oh and I just joined the roller derby, and I hear it would be hard to roller skate while pregnant.

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Saturday Spankings- Bright Ideas

This is a snippet from a new WIP I'm working on. Trevor and Roxy are in a life or death situation (I can't tell you what yet without giving too much away). Roxy just attempted a half-baked plan that blew up in her face, and ended in Trevor having to rescue her.

     “So what should we do? I'd love to hear your bright ideas.” She could admit her idea was not well thought out, but doubted he had a better plan.

     “I'll tell you what I want to do, but you probably wouldn't agree.” Trevor looked her up and down.

     Roxy folded her arms across her chest, hiding the way her nipples hardened at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Try me,” she answered.

     “What I really want to do is turn you around and spank your ass red, maybe then you'd listen to reason.” He advanced towards her, closing the space between them.

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Talk Dirty (Laundry) to Me

Hope everyone had a fantastic weekend. I could lament that I don't really have weekends because I work Saturdays, but mine was actually really nice. Got to see some friends, won a raffle at the racetrack, and the weather turned out nicer than expected. Also, Natasha Knight posted an excerpt from my book Catch a Falling Star on her blog! If you missed it go check it out.

     I'm glad the weekend turned out to be fulfilling because the week itself felt like a series of missed opportunities with my husband. I actually hate when we 'plan' on having sex because it just never seems to work out that way. We are big on sexting. We've been known to go back and forth all day long sending suggestive messages throughout the work day. Sometimes this is the best foreplay ever, we get home from work and are practically tearing each other's clothes off. But some other times its like too much build up. We've been talking about it all day, talking about having sex, planning on it happening. And then we both get home, and we forgot to defrost something for dinner, we're tired and crabby and hungry. No one wants to go to the food store, but we have nothing for lunches tomorrow, and we're out of milk, again! And oh yeah, the sex, right, about that... oh, you want to postpone? Yeah, I'm okay with that.

I think this is why I am addicted to romance novels, they very rarely have day to day bullshit impeding their sex lives. I guess once in a while it happens in a story, but it's usually there to add conflict to the plot and make it spicier. I may read and write romances, but I am not living one.

     I spent my Saturday morning ignoring my husband and reading all the Saturday Spankings on everyone's blogs. Then I went to work. My husband and I didn't really talk all day because I was busy at work and he was out running errands.

     We had no definite plans for the night. So of course I was hoping we could relax, eat dinner, maybe have one thing lead to another. No planning, just seeing where the night took us. Then our friends texted and wanted to get together in 20 minutes to watch the hockey game. (Luckily with these friends 20 minutes really means 45.)

     My husband looks up from his phone. “You want to go?”

     I shrug my shoulders, seeing my night of seduction go up in flames, again. But we used to have a tight group of friends that we saw multiple times a week, now we're lucky to get together once a month, I really didn't want to say no.

     “Sure.” Is my half-hearted response.

     “We probably have time, want to go upstairs?” My husband suggests.

     I am off the couch like a shot, my husband quickly at my heels. “Lock the door!” (They live in our neighborhood, don't want an embarrassing drop-in.)

     The windows in our bedroom are wide open, but its about 9pm so its dark enough so no one can see us with the lights out. After flicking the light on for about five seconds to be sure no cats are on the bed, we slam the door shut and proceed. Sure, windows wide open, quickie in the dark wasn't really where I thought this night was going, but now I want this!

      My husband has my pants off and is pushing me towards the bed before I know what's going on. He puts his hand down and realizes his belt is laying on the bed.

     “Oh, I don't think we'll have time for this tonight,” he says. Yes, because now every time I leave something out he thinks I mean for him to spank me with it. Not that I'm complaining, but it's normally not my intention.

     I tell him I didn't leave his belt on the bed, he says he was wearing it today with his cargo shorts.

“I just threw a load of wash in, I took your belt out of your shorts.” I try to get all the laundry done Saturday night so I am not spending my Sunday off doing wash all day.

     Then he starts complaining that he only had them on a few hours today and they weren't dirty. He turns the light on, I dive behind the bed.

     “Seriously! I have no pants on and the windows are open!” I am so annoyed. He turns the light back off. Continues talking about how his stupid shorts were clean.

     What is happening right now? Now I'm getting super sensitive and defensive over the laundry situation. I tell him he could at least thank me for doing the laundry, it's not my freaking job.

     He gets very close to me, backing me up until the back of my legs hit the bed, “Thanks for doing the laundry.” This does not sound at all sincere.

     “I don't feel like doing this right now.” I fold my arms in front of my chest and try to side step him. But its dark, and he's bigger than me, and I end up on the bed instead of storming out of the room.

     I'm ready to tell him to go to hell, I am so pissed right now. But now his hand is in my panties, and holy shit am I wet. When did that happen? He knows right where to touch me (damn him), I end up coming quickly and with so much force that I am wondering if our argument just served as foreplay? Is that a thing?

I am still coming back down when he positions himself between my legs and goes down on me, I start to tell him to stop, but thankfully shut my mouth. I almost start giggling because I realize my head is hanging upside down off the side of the bed. The blood is kind of rushing to my head, and I'm having a hard time taking a full breath, and then I have another intense orgasm.

     I push him back on the bed so he's laying down. He helps me get his shorts and boxers off and then I get busy giving him a blow job. I don't care about anything anymore. Laundry, visiting friends, the wide open windows. I just want to make him come. I am overcome with lust, this is the only thing in the world I want to be doing right now (I honestly thought I would never say that, just the thought of oral sex grossed me out.     But now I really love giving my husband blow jobs). I bring him to climax and collapse onto the bed next to him.

     We lay there in the dark for a minute before finding our clothes and heading off to our friends'. We were both much more relaxed, and the laundry eventually got finished.

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Saturday Spankings: Spank Me- Maybe?

     This is a snippet from Catch a Falling Star. Mac is on her first date with Luke and she has never been spanked before, but she has certainly fantasized about it. This follows the chase scene I posted a few weeks ago. 

     She knew he was teasing her, he was smiling and looked innocent enough, but her ass already stung and he had only smacked her twice. Mac had always fantasized about being spanked. Having a man roughly push her over his knee and spank her to tears. She was too embarrassed to admit this to anyone. One time she had drunkenly tried to get her ex-boyfriend to spank her, but when he had looked at her like she was a freak she had laughed it off and told him she was joking. But that didn't stop her from finding stories online, devouring dozens in a night and then having marathon masturbating sessions, good thing she lived alone.

     But now, laying in the middle of her bed, Luke standing over her devouring her with his eyes, she was having second thoughts. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards the end of the bed, Mac started flailing and bunched the comforter into her hands trying to stop Luke from dragging her. “Wait!” she finally squeaked out.

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My First Interview

A very special thank you to Katherine Deane for interviewing me and sharing an excerpt of Catch a Falling Star with her readers! If you want to read the conversation we had about spankings, reading, and zombies you should check it out.

Also click here to find her review of my book on Spanking Romance Reviews.

This girl is sure feeling the love today <3

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The Real Me

    

     I had a disastrous thing happen to me on Saturday. I was clicking around on the internet, minding my own business, checking out Saturday Spankings, and then I hopped on facebook. I commented on a wall post and then I got a pop up box that said I needed to log in again. So I type in my password and now I am sent to a page that says I need to verify that I am a real person.

     Whoa, hold on a second here facebook! Why are you thinking I'm not a real person? I get that I have an account under a pen name (apparently in the fine print it says you can only have one account and no fake names, who knew?), but why are you thinking my pen name is the fake one and not my other account?

If anything my Casey McKay account is the farthest from fake I can get. It's the only place I can be the real me.

     Which is why when told I needed to verify that this was my real account by identifying which of my friends were tagged in pictures- I broke into a cold sweat. Here's the thing, to anyone reading this who doesn't know, most spanking fiction authors are not using their real names. So if you aren't using your real name, you are not posting a real picture. Telling me I need to identify who is in what picture is more than a little bit tricky.

     I feel like a weak person having to admit this was giving me heart palpitations. I don't want to be locked out of my Casey account! I'll miss my friends! I won't know what's going on! I feel like I am being punished for something I didn't do, I am three seconds away from stamping my feet and slamming doors.

I appealed to my husband for some help. Not only is he very tech saavy, but he is also very 'damn the man', will not live his life by a set of imposed rules kind of guy. Surely he will know a way around this facebook glitch! When I told him what happened I was met with a blank stare (my hands get clammy), and then I get, “Well what did you DO?”

     Commence stamping of feet. Why are we even suggesting this is my fault? I didn't DO anything!

If facebook really wants to see fake they should look at my regular account, that's where all the fake stuff happens.

     To person I haven't talked to in five years wishing me a happy birthday and suggesting we get together: “Definitely!”- I don't mean this, really, you haven't talked to me in five years. Now that facebook reminded you it was my birthday you decide we should get together? I don't even know why we were friends in the first place.

     To my aunt who writes on my wall that it was great seeing us at the recent family event: “We had a great time! See you again soon.” Lies, lies. Unless you consider a good time being cornered by various family members who all want to know why you haven't reproduced yet (post to follow), gotten a better job, or done anything else they would find worthy enough to gossip about. In fact, if I was aiming not to be fake, I would also add that I didn't really have that migraine that made us leave the party. And we are already plotting a good excuse to get out of the next one.

     I rarely sign on my regular facebook account. For a while my newsfeed was all full of wedding pictures, which can be fun to look at, in small doses. Now it is all full of baby pictures, which can also be amusing, also in small doses. But I am quickly realizing I am of the generation that documents their life in photos to specifically post on their facebook. I feel like a jerk when I say, I really don't care that you are running your seventh 5K of the year, or that you went vegan (yay, you! I just ate an entire stick of pepperoni), or that you went on yet another awesome vacation. Looking at my regular facebook makes me feel like a jealous, jaded, spiteful individual, and that is not the real me. When I'm Casey I am free to be me. I can talk about sex (or not talk about sex), I can be sarcastic and silly, and not worry that I am being judged.

     To end my tale of woe, I did indeed verify to facebook that I was a real person (thank you author friends who tagged yourself in your own book covers!). Hopefully I won't run into this problem again, but even if I do, you can rest assured I will find a way back!

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Saturday Spankings- Emmaline's Decision

     This week I am sharing a snippet from my work in progress called Emmaline's Decision. It's a Victorian romance that introduces a wealthy family in England who want to marry their youngest daughter off to a man with a title and status. Emmaline has other plans. This is a part in the story where Emmaline has met up with the man she's in love with, Leo. She's trying to get him to go to bed with her and believes she's succeeded, but quickly realizes they may have been talking about two different things. Emma finds herself face down across Leo's lap and it finally dawns on her that she might not be getting what she was expecting-

     “This isn't what I meant when I said I didn't want to wait,” Emma felt her body easing under his caresses, but her heart was beating in a panicked rhythm.

     “I know perfectly well what you meant,” he sounded amused with her.

     “Please, Leo,” she wasn't above begging. This wasn't what she wanted and she was used to getting her own way. If only he could see the pout on her face, she was sure she could sway him.

      “You just agreed to this,” he sounded annoyed now, and she was sure it was because she was whining.

     “Did I?” She didn't recall having said she agreed to him spanking her. Emma felt a whoosh of air and then the sound of Leo's hand smacking her bottom.

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