Birthday Party Tease

Y'all, one of my not-so-secrets is that I'm a bit of a foot fetishist. More specifically, I like to have my feet played with—and to, um, play with others with my feet.

I'm telling you this so you can understand the context for this little real-life account. It was so fun and spontaneous I thought I would take a page out of my friend Casey's book and blog about it.

My nephew had a birthday earlier this week; when I asked him what I could do to make his birthday special, he said, "Will you make my cupcakes?" Of course I would.

And I did—a tray full of them: 36 chocolate-iced cupcakes, loaded onto a large jelly-roll pan. Some had sprinkles, some didn't. There were more than we needed to celebrate, but who complains about extra cupcakes?

That tray, though... it was so full, and I was sure I would drop them. Holding them in my lap on the way over to my brother's house, I made hubby go extra-slow so that I could balance it more easily. Then, easing out of the van, sneaking inside, and... phew, finally! Made it to the kitchen.

Two of my brothers were there with their children, and some neighbors had come over as well. My sister-in-law had a good plan for the day: play, then presents, and finally cupcakes. The kids played for a while in sprinklers in the yard, and then back inside to open gifts. While the birthday boy was showing off his favorite present, I motioned for hubby to come help me in the kitchen.

We put in eleven candles and found some matches, then I hoisted the giant tray again to make for the door, which hubby held open for me. Just then, one of the smaller kids darted through the kitchen to go to the bathroom, almost bumping into me and startling us both. I stepped back suddenly; just as I had feared, a few of the cakes began to slide and topple.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" I muttered as I staggered and swiveled, trying to regain secure footing for my tray—thank gawd we hadn't lit those candles yet! Somehow, all but one stayed on the tray, but that one fell and, as if in slow motion, toppled and spun toward the ground, landing frosting-side down. On top of my foot. Shit!

I couldn't really see it for the tray, so I held it out from my body and looked down. My sandal straps had a smear of chocolate across two of them, and the top of my bare foot bore a round, messy splotch of frosting. What a mess.

Hubby sprang into action, letting the door swing closed and kneeling down to pick up the cupcake almost before it had stopped rolling on its side across the floor. From his knees, he said matter-of-factly: "Oh... it must have landed on your foot. Here, let me do something about that."

And he grabbed my foot, lifting it up and forcing me to balance on the other. "Honey, what the hell? I'm gonna fall over. Honey, the tray..."

As I swayed and twisted on my one foot, I felt the other raised higher still, until my bent knee was almost touching the tray. Suddenly, hubby's wet, warm tongue swiped across the top of my foot. I giggled in spite of myself, then whispered in the harshest tone I could muster, "Honey! What if someone comes in here?"

He didn't care, and after another couple of licks neither did I; He bathed most of my foot right there in the kitchen, licking it like it was itself a cupcake ready to be eaten. Even though I was still fighting to keep my balance, my box tingled a little and I let out a soft, low moan.

Soon enough, he eased my foot back to the ground; I looked down again to see that there was no trace of the frosting left on my foot. Hubby rose to his feet again and moved to the door, opening it again and holding it for me to go through.

As I passed him, he whispered, "Is there any more of that frosting left over at home?"

My brothers and sisters-in-law smiled back at me, naturally assuming that I was simply happy to celebrate my nephew's birthday. Little did they know...