Mike & Karen Ch. 08

"My new strings," he answered, still looking in the direction of home, as if that would get him there sooner. "It's gonna be my new strings, I just know it!"

"For your Rickenbacker?" she inquired, enjoying her husband's excitement. "You got new strings for your bass?"

"Not just any strings," he breathed, almost pulling her along now. "Wanna go for a little run?"

"Just try and keep up then, slowpoke!" she laughed as she dashed forward, her dress swirling around her, occasionally exposing her ass to him. She had barely begun before she was halfway down the block, far ahead of him.

"Holy shit, she's like Cheetara!" he thought as he burst into a sprint, determined to catch her. She may have been a Blackwell-Gordon woman, but Alex was not only Blackwell and Gordon on his mother's side, but a DeBourne on his father's. His father's mutant genetics had made their way into the son, and with long, thunderous strides, he began gaining on his fleet-as-a-deer wife, who was laughing hysterically as she heard him coming. She pressed on, faster than ever.

It was another six blocks to the house, and Alex was right on her heels as they stampeded up to the wrought-iron gate, virtually tied. They were both panting heavily as they leaned on the gate, exhilarated from their impromptu race. They shared a quick kiss, beyond caring at this moment if anyone saw them, and then he opened the gate for her, allowing her to breeze in. They were in the door and he made a beeline for the large living room.

"Be right back!" Alexa called out as she squirmed by the living room he'd turned into. Mike looked on curiously as he stood there, while Karen, who was sitting in a chair, made a wry face.

"She need to go to the bathroom?" she asked. "Not like Alli to not be able to hold it."

"She needs the bathroom, but not for that," Alex said, shrugging as he walked over to his mom and leaned down to hug her. "She just might be leaking is all."

Karen gave him a look. "If she's dripping on my Persian rug, young man, you're cleaning it up."

"Promise, mom," he chuckled, knowing she was doing this just for show. Someone in the house had to have an air of propriety, and he was damned if it was going to be him. "We made a pit stop in the castle structure and had some fun in one of the turret towers."

Now it was Alex's turn to made a wry face as his father looked at the ceiling, trying to keep a grin off his face, while Karen put her book down and was tittering behind her hand. It suddenly occurred to Alex what was cracking them up.

"When?" he asked sourly.

"This morning," Karen managed to choke out.

"West tower, facing the road?"

She nodded, tears almost rolling down her cheeks as she strained not to laugh.

"How the Hell do you even fit in there, dad?" Alex seemed to complain, just for form's sake. It was pretty damn funny. "You're seven thousand feet tall, and wider than the inside of that thing! This ... this is why we can't have nice things!"

"Why's everyone laughing?" Alexa asked as she came into the room, looking refreshed and free of sticky effluences.

"The Captain and Tennille here had the same brilliant idea for a pit stop as us, only they did it this morning," Alex explained, cocking his head at his mother, who was sitting with her hands in her lap, trying to look prim and proper, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

"Yeah, and we're the badly behaved ones," Alexa sighed, giving Mike a hug and then going over to give her older sister a kiss on the cheek. "You opened it yet, Alex?"

"No, I was gonna wait for you," he replied, as Mike handed him the little rectangular cardboard box. Alex's eyes glinted with eagerness as he began removing the masking tape, tossing it aside before opening the box. His expression was one of awe and delight as he looked inside. Towering over everyone, Mike glanced over his son's shoulder.

"Holeeeeeeeee, crizzap ..." Alex murmured.

"Those things're thicker than your wrist, Alex," Mike mused, looking at the gleaming, silvery strings coiled up in the box.

"They weigh a ton," his son breathed, still staring. "Alexa, come and see these."

Alexa moved from where she was kneeling beside Karen in her chair and came over to her husband. He handed her the box and she giggled as she took it from him, pretending to almost drop it.

"Oof, you're not kidding," she hammed. "Why do you need such heavy strings?"

"Dad and I play a lot of metal," he replied, taking one of the long strings out by an end and letting it dangle for a moment, a liquid silver tendril catching the westering sunlight coming through the bay window. "Heavier strings mean heavier, more metal bass. C'mon, let's go get the guitars and I'll show you ..."

***

Soon enough, they were back in the living room, with Alex stringing up his black Rickenbacker while Mike tuned his red and white Gibson. Karen was sitting in her chair, staring at her titan husband's tight, muscular behind, while Alexa watched Alex fiddle with his new acquisitions. She shared his glee; it was wonderful to see him so excited about something.

"So you and Mike both play guitar, but you play bass," she mused, before turning to look at her sister. "How about you, Kar? Do you play guitar at all?"

"No," Karen said simply, still fixated on her spouse's derriere.

"Not even acoustic?"

Now Karen glanced at her younger sibling, a wry expression on her face. "Alli, do we look like Presbyterians to you?"

Alexa thought about that for several moments before hazarding an answer: "... No?"

Alex kept on adjusting his strings while Mike entertained the girls by playing the guitar part of "Cliffs of Dover." Alexa smirked when she noticed that he was hooked into the Alpine speaker system that the entertainment system used. It sounded great, but this room was hardly ideal for the purpose. They kept the volume down so that he didn't melt anyone's face off.

"You're so good at that," Alexa stated while Mike smiled and bowed. "How long did you take lessons?"

Mike shrugged: "About a month, before I had to give them up, we couldn't really afford them," he admitted. "After that, totally self-taught."

Alexa's eyes widened: "That's crazy!"

"Not really; there's a rather fatal flaw in my playing," he replied. "I don't really have the deep training Kar does with myriad instruments, so really I only ever learn specific songs and then fake it, if you will. Or, to quote Bugs Bunny, I'm just imitating the Road Runner."

"Well, for someone who can't play music, you're really good at playing music," Alexa laughed. "I'm agog to think how you'd sound if you had real training."

"All right, finished," Alex said eagerly, grinning at the shining strings and tuning them deftly. "I've got this baby tuned down a major third, so my lowest note is C. Listen to this ..."

He struck his thumb over the C, and the low sound reverberated through the living room.

"Damn, that's right through the floor," Alexa said, running a finger along the neck of the instrument. "So if you're tuned down a major third, then I guess you're not strung for E, A, D and G gauge strings, right?"

"Nope," he said, still fiddling. "Before I got these puppies, I took the lower four of a five-string set, the B, E, A, and D, and tuned them up a half-step to C, F, E flat and B flat. These ones I have now are like telephone cables."

"Bet you sound crazy in isolation," Alexa remarked.

"And you know a lot about guitars, Alli," Mike mused, almost as if he was assessing her. "Did you ever play?"

"A little," she replied, looking at the floor and blushing. "I had an Ibanez, but I left it in Cardiff, at mom's memorial. She loved listening to me play old jazz tunes on it."

"That does sound like mom," Karen said, smiling at her sister. "I know how important music was to her."

"Pity you left it behind, but that's as good a reason as any," Mike stated, unslinging his guitar and stepping up to his sister-in-law. "Take this one. It's a Gibson Firebird X, solid body, and pure analogue."

Alexa's eyes widened: "Mike, I ... I can't take your guitar."

He shrugged and smiled. "I've got four more, Alli, and they're even heavier, so I doubt you'll want one of those."

She gazed down at the instrument now in her hands. "I ... don't know what to say."

"He'll probably settle for a thank-you, I imagine," Karen quipped, finally standing. She smiled warmly as Alexa held the guitar in one hand and threw herself against Mike, burying her cheek against his sternum and hugging him tight.

"Thank you ..." she rasped, trying to not tear up.

"I guess this means we've got another person for jam night down at the club, eh?" Alex stated, still tuning while his wife hugged his father.

"The club is open again?" Karen asked, gently removing the guitar from her little sister's nearly slack hand while she maintained her bear hug on Mike.

"Yeah, two weeks ago," Alex answered, nodding to his mother. "After six months of renovations and upgrades, they're back in business. First open jam is actually next week Friday."

"That actually sounds like a good time," Karen mused, checking her calendar on her smartwatch. "I'm free; why don't we go and Alli can join you and your little crew on stage?"

Alexa looked over at her sister, considered for a moment, and then nodded. "I like that idea, Kar. Playing with Alex will be fun. Let's do it. I'll call Fre and Jeanie, they can come along and be our cheering section."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be a hard sell ..." Alex laughed.

***

In their sumptuous bedroom, Karen was lying curled up against her husband that night, her cheek against his massive chest, her fingers stroking along the pronounced muscles over his ribs. His arm was around her, and she felt a perfect contentment. It had been that way for nearly twenty-five years, and she was looking forward to the next fifty.

"That was very kind of you, giving Alli your Firebird," she said quietly, so very in love with this man. "That's the one you got a few years ago, isn't it?"

He nodded, caressing her arm gently. "It's the only one I ever bought from Gibson; the rest were all given to me. I figured it was okay to pay it forward. Besides, it'll suit her."

"Well, no more free instruments for her from you, good sir; I can't have her falling in love with you and creating competition for me," she teased, smiling up at him and poking her finger into the meat of his pectoral. "Besides, she's spoken for."

"That she definitely is," Mike agreed, pulling her closer and hugging her. She purred in his embrace, lost in the safe feeling she always got when he was surrounding her with his massive arms. "They're a perfect couple, y'know."

She nodded slightly against him, almost unwilling to speak. "If only we didn't have parent blinders on through the summer, hm? Imagine if we'd been able to see how desperately in love they were. I never would have even considered dissuading them from one another, if I'd known."

They'd gone to bed, leaving their son and her younger sister to themselves, wishing only for one another's company and intimacy. The bedroom was only dimly lit by two rock-salt lamps, one on either nightstand, throwing the deep ochre walls into warm, comforting shadows.

He stroked his fingers through her silken bronze hair now, and behind her ear, sending delicious shivers through her with his touch. Her naked body snug to his, she pictured how this conversation would lead into their lovemaking, where he'd have her crying out in ecstasy, as he always did. Then again, just about any conversation between them led to lovemaking. It had always been that way, since the first time she'd given herself to him. He was by no means her first, but he was the only one who ever counted after that. It was one of the great certainties in her life.

Her mind wandered through the ways life had changed, and what aspects of it had not - they were still madly in love, even after almost three decades, and her feelings showed no signs of abating, no complacency. Every single night, she went to bed somehow more in love with him than she had been that morning. She looked forward to finding out how, and she thanked him every night for it by making love to him.

In some ways, they still acted like giddy teenagers around one another. In their playful moments, they still called one another by their last names, as they had when they were first getting to know one another in university. It sounded like a forced formality between them, but she'd realized some time later that it was actually an unspoken intimacy, because no one else was allowed to address her as 'Gordon,' just like no one ever called him 'DeBourne' except her.

How strange and wonderful it had felt when she'd realized that. And he always knew exactly when to refer to her that way, to make a moment more personal, tender, or significant between them. She also innately understood when to call him by his surname, a name she'd dreamed of taking on herself one day. And that dream had come true.

She slowly traced her hand down his chiseled, herculean form and rippling abs and found his cock, lying dormant between his legs. She began stroking it gently, her hand barely able to wrap around it. He sighed and snuggled her closer while she caressed and fondled him. His member began to swell, as it always did. No one had ever aroused him the way Karen Leda Diana Gordon-DeBourne could.

She began kissing down his body, gently nipping at the taut skin on occasion, until she finally arrived at his manhood, which she was still stroking. Her mouth began playing gentle kisses along the length, her eyes closed as she let her tongue swirl around the huge head. What started as an almost noiseless treatment soon became an aural delight for them both, her breathing and moans punctuating the wet sounds her mouth was making her she began to suck on his cock in earnest.

She took the head into her mouth, her skilled tongue still massaging the head and then pushing her lips down the shaft. Mike felt his toes curl near the bottom of the giant bed as she worked her singular magic on him. His hand glided down her shapely back and found her exquisite ass cheeks, and began fondling them slowly, making his wife squirm. Not surprisingly, she was already wet, and he looked forward to teasing her and making her wild.

One of the things he loved most about Karen as a sexual partner, though, was what followed next. He felt her body, especially her neck, relax, and she sank her mouth slowly down on his cock, taking the massive tool all the way into her throat. Karen was the only woman who had even deep-throated him, and she had been doing it effortlessly for nearly thirty years now. The wet heat of her mouth and throat, the way she enclosed him wetly, was a sensation he would never tire of. He had no idea what he'd done to make God so happy with him that this goddess given flesh was his reward.

Karen hummed, buzzing her lips around the root of his cock, and was rewarded with a shiver from her husband. She began slowly bobbing up and down, the shaft glistening now. She was making just enough noise at this point that they could both enjoy it, before they really started in on one another. She felt his fingers squeezing her ass cheeks and deftly probing between them, finding with pinpoint accuracy all her most sensitive spots, making her squirm and turn wetter by the moment. It was a thrill to have someone know her so intimately, perhaps better than she knew herself sometimes.

She loved the idea that Michael knew her better than she knew herself.

She was bobbing up and down more quickly now, moaning around him. Her hand was following her mouth along his length, making gentle twisting motions around the sensitive skin. Her other hand was fondling his sac, thrilling to the feel of how heavy his balls were, how laden with cum he must be - all of it for her. She couldn't wait to feel him cum inside her.

They were trying for another baby. What if this was the time she got pregnant? Oh, God, please, yes!

Mike gently pulled her on top of him, still facing down his body, her legs instinctively spreading to open her core to him. He caressed the backs of her thighs and squeezed her ass cheeks, rotating them in gentle circles. Her pussy was already sticky and glistening with arousal, desperate to feel him, any of him, inside her. Despite her regal and dignified demeanour, Mike knew that his wife was perpetually wet and horny.

The curse of the Gordon women indeed. Some curse.

He began planting gentle kisses around her inner thighs, perilously close to her dripping netherlips, teasing her and making her writhe, even as she sucked his cock. She moaned and whimpered around him, almost begging, but he knew this dance too well to lay into her just yet. His beloved had needs, and he would see to them properly, like the slavish devotee he was.

His thumbs pulled gently outward, stretching her outer lips without touching them, making her shudder. Her rippled his fingers on her soft flesh, marvelling at her wetness and enjoying the heady scent of her arousal. One thumb slowly, firmly slid up and down her perineum, making her squeak and begin moving faster on his cock. The sounds she was making were loud and constant now, turning them both on immensely. Everything about their lovemaking was an art, meant to maximize their mutual pleasure, but also what amounted to a form of worship. There was a reason the Song Of Solomon was their favourite Old Testament book.

His tongue now flicked over her clit, peeking out invitingly from beneath its pink hood. She gasped, and he massaged it now, his tongue snaking slowly around the little button. She somehow grew wetter still, the tang of her coating his lips and tongue. He pressed his mouth forward a little, sending his tongue between the lips and inside her. The moan she let out was a deep one of pure satisfaction. He smiled and continued pleasuring his beloved wife.

It took supreme concentration on Karen's part to focus on what she was doing, once she felt her husband's tongue push deep inside her pussy. It may have partly the disparity in their size, but Mike had an incredibly "strong" tongue, able to push through her tight walls and reach places deep inside her, even if she was squeezing. Of course, this was not an objection on her part, no. It set off sprays of sparkling colours behind her eyes, and her whole body tingled and trembled with the little jolts he sent through her. Still, she sucked willfully on his cock, now throbbing and huge in her mouth, with an iron hardness to it.

Mike massaged her clit with one thumb while the other teased her little rose-coloured knot just about her pussy. His tongue fluttered inside her, forming letters or shapes that had her shaking before long. He was relentless, driving her toward orgasm, and within another minute she released his cock form the wet confines of her mouth and moaned loudly, even while she pumped it with her hand. She came hard, his face glistening with her essence. Still he didn't let up, and Karen grunted and writhed, climaxing yet again, her teeth clenched to keep her from screaming. Her body was drenched with sweat now, her skin flushed pink and her auburn hair damp.

Karen needed him inside her soon. She might normally have been good for another five of these orgasms, but her patience for being fucked by her husband was shorter of late, probably because she wanted him to put a baby in her as soon as possible. She sat up suddenly, her ass and pussy sinking down onto his face. She bucked her hips and rode his mouth, her eyes closed as she groped and squeezed her own breasts, fire coursing through her as she came yet again.