They had been sitting in the living room watching TV when they started playing around with each other. She had opened up his fly, pulled his member out of his jeans, and started stroking him while speaking dirty little nothings into his ear. She got him as close to orgasm as she could without pushing him over the edge before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs to their bedroom. It took him until she was halfway out of sight before he realized what was going on, and even longer to pull his pants up enough to follow after her. By the time he had caught up to his wife she was just inside the bedroom, halfway between the door and the bed, frozen like a statue in mid stride with one arm extended towards the bed, and one leg bent behind her.
"Catherine? Are you ok?" he asked as he approached her from behind.
"Oil can..." she squeaked out in her best tin-man impersonation.
"What was that? I didn't quite get that." He knew full well what she had said. This was a game that they played quite often. But his feigned ignorance was part of the turn-on for the both of them.
"Oil can," she repeated.
"Oil can? Did you just ask me for an oil can?"
"Oil can." Her mumble was becoming a little bit clearer, but not enough to break the continuity of the game.
"I don't understand Catherine. What do you want with an oil can?" He ran his fingers up her side, from her hip to the midpoint of her ribs under her extended arm. He was trying to make her giggle, to break her, to see how far she could take it this time. They enjoyed this game a lot, but they also enjoyed other games just as much.
"Oil can," she said yet again.
"Where would I even find an oil can? The closest I have is this right here," he said, motioning to his half-hard dick as he dropped his jeans down to his ankles and stepped out of them. He had wilted a little running after her, but the game was bringing him back to life.
