Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Today we pretty much just drove around looking for something to do. We had plans to go to Baltimore but we woke up too late (too much cuddling, ha). Then we were going to go to a museum until we found out it cost $15 per person and we were all...fuck that. Then we went to a pet store to play with puppies, but they didn't have puppies to play with so...fuck that. Then we checked out this laser tag place that was dead (we were literally the only ones there) so...fuck that.

Some might say the day was a failure, but we still had some good times shouting at dunce drivers through open windows in the heat.

And then we got home.
And I told Jarrett to get naked in the kitchen. Then I got naked.
And then..."fuck me."
And so we went at it right there in the kitchen, minutes after getting home.

He lifted me on a corner of the kitchen counter and ravaged me, pressed up against the French bread I had just sliced, then lifted me up and bounced me mid-air while ravaging me, and then pushed me up against the pantry door and took me from behind (in a ravaging manner).

It was all incredibly ravaging. Or maybe I meant ravishing? Doesn't matter, the two are synonymous in my book. I'm just glad the bread basket (behind me in the photo above) doesn't have eyes. Also disappointed in this same fact. I think the bread basket would have rather enjoyed the show if it wasn't collectively inanimate.

After a delicious session of devouring each other there for the first time, and after a good few minutes of just catching our breath and holding each other stark naked in the middle of the kitchen, we continued to make a lovely dinner of spaghetti & meatballs with a squash-zucchini-tomato sauce and garlic bread, and, of course, wine.

Jarrett claims that red is a man's wine, which is just fine with me. The more white, the merrier, I say!

All in all, a fantastic end to the thirstiest of Thursdays, in more ways than one.