Mouse Bk. 03 Ch. 01

He kissed her harder, never surrendering her mouth, wishing that dawn would never come.

* * *

He drifted out of sleep slowly. The sheets were warm beneath him. It was still dark, and the sensation on his chest was both soothing and impossible to ignore. A single fingernail traced slow, tiny paths left, right, up, down. It would cover the breadth of his chest then reverse, then stop abruptly to soar down toward his navel. It would circle there, slowly, then quickly go back toward his chest, where it might circle his nipple, or glide up and down his neck.

Michael opened his eyes. Mouse was nestled firmly under his armpit, her head resting on his shoulder and chest, her leg draped lazily across his cock. The ceiling of her bedroom was bathed in a soft, dark, bluish light. Every so often she pressed her pubic hairs harder against his pelvic bone, and he felt warmth there, as her hand continued to explore him. He shifted his head slightly to kiss the top of hers. He smelled her hair after he did it. He smelled that same scent of tangerine, and something more, and then he kissed her again.

She looked up toward him. She couldn't see his eyes, nor he hers. He'd fallen back against the pillow, exhausted, but awake and enjoying her caress.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay, baby," he answered. "It's more than okay."

They were quiet then, as she continued to explore him. He lay there, enjoying and enduring, unable to choose between fighting or surrendering to the urge sleep. The conflict awoke him further. His mind began to work again.

"Mouse?" he asked gently.

"Mm hmm," she replied, lost in her excursions.

"Why are we playing this game?"

He tried to make it sound gentle and un-accusing. He liked the game. It was surprising to him that he really liked it. But it confused him.

Mouse slowly stopped moving her hand, spreading her fingers and settling the palm over his nipple. Michael softly took her hand in his. He moved it for her, to make her start teasing him again. She giggled and kissed his chest, and complied.

"You like this?" she asked playfully.

"Yes," he answered.

After a long pause, he asked again. "Why?"

He listened to her long exhale.

"I'm not really sure," she began. "It was mostly Tania and Alicia's idea. We were just out drinking one night. After your first visit, I seemed to spend more time with each of them, and then we got together once as a group, and then the friendship grew. So we started spending time together. Of course we talked about men all the time. I had to... make some things up about you, or at least twist the truth."

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered, lifting his head to kiss her hair again.

When his head had settled back into the pillow, she kissed his neck. Her lips lingered there, and he could feel two, three breaths heating his skin before she kissed him once more, lightly, almost imperceptibly.

"It's okay, it's just the way it is," she replied. "Anyway, they asked about you. Where you live, who you are, lots of details. For the record, you live where you live, you are who you are, but you're a classmate and friend of my older brother's. One I always fantasized about. The friend, I mean, not the brother. They could relate to that. And I said that if my brother knew he'd kill you. With luck that will make them be more discreet, if Melanie or anyone else from home ever comes to visit me here. Beyond that I mostly told the truth."

"The wedding?" Michael reminded her, trying not to sound impatient.

"So they asked if our thing was just for fun, just a sex thing, or if I wanted more out of it. I foolishly said more. I should have said fun. It would have given me more room to wiggle out of things. But I wanted to say more, and I did."

She kissed Michael's chest again at the exact moment he kissed her hair. They each held it for a long while, not moving, just frozen in place, in a pose of affection .

"They asked if you were the marrying type. I said no. I told them about your divorce. Eventually Alicia suggested that lots of guys think they're not, but change their minds. I said you never would, and she said I just had to work on you. And then she suggested the game.

"It was just a joke at first, just silly fantasies over too many drinks. But it sort of grew and took on a life of its own. Everyone added more and more ideas, more ways to make it work. By the end Alicia and Tania were really into it. But we went home and I figured that was the end of it. And it was. It didn't come up for a long time.

"Then Tania and I were out at some used clothing stores. Since she found out that I'm a designer, and I do my own alterations, and I wear basically the same outlandishly whore-ish types of clothing that she likes, she started asking me for a few custom outfits. She started coming on my excursions. She was good company.

"So this one time we stumbled across the wedding dress. We both tried it on, just for laughs. It was a decent fit, and Tania wanted me to buy it. They were practically giving the thing away, so I figured it would just be a fun project, fixing it up.

"Then Alicia and Tania saw me in it. From that point on they brought the game back, and it wouldn't go away. They started pulling people in, and actually making arrangements. I think I could have stopped them, but I didn't try very hard. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to bug you."

"It doesn't bug me at all, little sister," Michael said, his voice now deep, not a whisper. He felt the tone of it startle her at first. She tensed for just a moment. But she quickly eased back into his body.

"Really?" she asked, with her best shy, little girl squeak.

"I think its great."

She moved then, sliding smoothly, like a lioness, to straddle his stomach and sit up, pushing the heels of both hands into his chest. Michael looked at her breasts, squeezed tightly between her arms, her hair hanging down just above them. He reached up with one hand to gently, very, very gently, trace the outline of each nipple with a single knuckle.

She fell on him and devoured him. Her mouth was soft and cool, and opened wide. Her lips were tiny and almost motionless on his. Her tongue moved slowly, carefully, not entering his mouth, just tracing the edges and insides of his lips. He held his own tongue back, letting her play, enjoying the simple, easy, loving kiss, while his own hands traced and retraced the sharp curve between the small of her back and her butt. He felt himself coming to life, and her warmth growing against his belly, too.

It was time to make love to his beautiful little sister again.