This story follows the further exploits of Mike and Sharon, as described in "Cassandra Learns her Lesson," and "Unexpected Poker Night." It is set after "Unexpected Poker Night," and describes something alluded to in that story in detail. I am somewhat back on track, and so this story should be considerably more concise.
A few nights after unexpectedly hosting a poker game, Mike and Sharon were again home alone. Another few hectic days had passed, and they were again attempting to have a quiet evening at home, just the two of them. They were sitting on the couch in the living room, having a speaker worshipping session. Decidedly more sensual music was playing tonight, mostly a mix of female fronted goth metal bands: Lacuna Coil, the Gathering, Epica, Leave's Eyes. Sharon was smoking from her preferred pipe, a purple blown glass piece that had silver speckles cast throughout. Mike was simply sitting back, enjoying the music, and occasionally blinking his eyes and waving his hand to clear smoke from the incense burner that sat on the end table.
Sharon smiled pleasantly over her glasses at her lover. "Is there anything you want to ask me?" she asked, smiling seductively.
Knowing that she was deliberately baiting him, Mike rolled his head to look over at her. "Like what?" he responded, feigning disinterest. His head rolled back, and he closed his eyes, allowing the eclectic music of the Gathering and Anneke van Gresenburg's voice to wash over him.
At first Sharon just stared at him, then picked her pipe back up and held the lighter to the bowl. "Fine. I won't tell you," she said, clearly miffed.
"Tell me what?" Mike asked, looking over at her.
"No, you don't care. So I'm not going to tell you what happened." She lit her bowl and inhaled deeply, smiling slyly at him.
He reached for her, but she scrunched herself up in the corner of the couch and wiggled away from his hand. Mike snorted softly in amusement, and leaned further so he could touch her leg. Giggling, she jumped up, still holding the pipe close to her face, and danced easily out of his reach, her long skirt twirling about her calves. Her lover sat up, and stretched, causing his back and shoulders to pop loudly.
"Oh," he yawned, "I think you will tell me." He smiled warmly up at Sharon, knowing the game was on.
Giggling again, she stuck out her tongue at him. "Make me," she taunted in her brattiest voice. When Mike started to stand up, she laughed loudly, and made to run out of the room. However, Mike was faster than most people would give him credit for, and he bounded up and off the couch very quickly, and snaked his arms around her waist, hauling her back into him. "Nooooo," she wailed, laughingly.
When her back was pulled firmly against his chest, he leaned down and breathed into her. "I think you should put the pipe down, babe."
"One more hit, then I'll put it down." He shrugged, but didn't let her go. "Let go of me. Then we can play." Her voice had grown husky and breathy, full of the promise of things to come. His hands dropped away and he sat back down on the couch. Sharon took a long drag from the pipe, and sat it down on the end table before sitting down. After a moment, she exhaled, and a thin white wisp of smoke issued from her full lips.
"Tell me what happened." Mike was looking intently at Sharon, but his eyes were bright and vibrant. Clearly, he was eager for the game to really begin.
"Nuh uh. You don't want to know. So I'm not telling you." She smiled at him again, leaning forward so that her evanescent blouse fell open ever so slightly, offering a glimpse of cleavage and the top of her bra. Her breasts moved as she did so, their curves and the cream colored bra slightly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Mike stroked his goatee, knowing now what her game was, but not sure how she wanted him to make her talk. Thinking back over the last few days, he pondered the events that had transpired. Of course, his thoughts centered on Katie and Christy. He knew that she was teasing him, trying to confess what she had done with Katie. And he of course was curious, all the more so because she wanted to tell him. That certainly meant it had been bad. Which is to say, it had been great. But how did she want to be "tortured?"
Then he remembered helping with the laundry. He had found her black satin elbow length gloves in the hamper. He loved those gloves, they way they felt against his skin when she massaged his sac and his cock. It was smooth and rough at the same time, exquisite. Feeling the heat of her hand through the material, how it glided over his skin, but was rough enough to catch every now and then. They washed them frequently, but they hadn't used them recently. He had asked her then why they were in the hamper, but she had rebuffed him. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she had said, smiling that mischievously sexy smile of hers that he so adored. And then he remembered what Sharon had told him when she returned from the bathroom after checking on Katie.
Realization dawned on him, but he controlled his expression. He sat still for another moment, considering his plans.