Summer Swap 6-10

They sat side by side at the back of the yacht, two naked people with a bottle of beer each, skin wet, hot sun baking them dry again. Once she’d come to the surface after her brave dive into the water, she’d followed behind Cody, swimming fast to catch up and show she was quick and athletic, going around to the back of the ship to where the swimming deck was, and they’d put their bare bottoms on the ridge of the boat bay, where the jet skis came in and out of the yacht’s hull. It put them hip deep in the water, their feet kicking in the bluish turquoise while they drank. Sea water splashed her naked tummy, but the sun heated her face and shoulders until they were hot to the touch.

They made small talk and funny talk, but at last she had the courage to say to him, “Byron had quite the night last night. We’re going to have to get our turn again soon.”

“Name the night,” he said, chuckled and took a swig of beer.

Which was a good sign, but she didn’t think he would say no to sex. He wasn’t that kind of guy. She said, “Did Carla tell you how it went?”

“With Byron?—yeah. He did a number on her. He’s a good dude. He played the games she loves the most.”

“Like roleplaying?”

Cody nodded and hummed an affirmative sound in his throat.

“I saw them and they weren’t roleplaying.”

“You saw them?” His face lit up with mischievous glee. “What, you spied on them?”

She took a drink. “Look, thanks for the pep talk last night. I appreciated it. I walked around to clear my head...”

“Whoa, and what, you saw them out on the deck?—Oh, wait, no, yeah, Carla said you were there in the morning. Did you watch them or did you stumble into them?”

“Watched them for a bit.”

“And what do you mean they weren’t roleplaying?”

“I guess that part was over and they were doing the pillow talk stuff. As Carla and Byron.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“I thought so, too.”

“Did you watch them fucking?”

She showed him a sour face, scrunching up her nose. Cody laughed.

He said, “Never mind. Whatever you did, you did. So, what, is there something wrong?”

“Not at all,” she said, though she supposed there kind of was something wrong. “It was sweet.”

“Oh,” he said, long and drawn out and full of ribald knowing. “I see, I see.”

“You see what?”

“You want to go again and you don’t want any roleplaying.”

She was surprised, and she showed him by smiling and letting her mouth drop open, shocked at his insight. “See? See, you get me, Cody.”

He laughed, swaying back and forth, then bumping her with his huge round shoulder. “It’s still kind of roleplaying.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You’re roleplaying, not roleplaying.”

She squinted. “What?”

“Think about it.”

She shook her head like she was disappointed in him. “Just when I think you get me.”

He laughed and took a drink, then held the beer bottle between his tanned knees, water splashing up with the waves, his fingers playing with the bottle’s label. “I get you, Chey.” Then he looked at her and smiled, his eyes narrowed by the intense sunlight, his blond hair gone dark with seawater but the sun drying some bright gold twists. “I’m down for it. Tell me what you want.”

“Carla and Byron were just Carla and Byron.”

“Just friends.”

“Right. Human beings, not characters.”

Cody nodded. “It’s hot.”

She betrayed some of her angst earned watching her husband cozying up with a gorgeous, sexy woman, all swooping curves, platinum blonde hair, all female, no tomboy, no athleticism but for obvious high-horsepower fucking and baby making, and plump lips meant for heavy-duty cock sucking.

Cody seemed to see some of that in her eyes. “Carla said Byron was the best guy to her. Like, a gentleman, as much as a gentleman as you could be in some green-flagged extra-marital play.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. Byron’s always the good guy.”

His eyes narrowed in contemplation. “You think that makes you the bad guy?”

She shrugged and showed him a meek expression. “Does it?”

“I don’t know, Chey. Does it matter? Own it. Whatever it is, own it. Everyone loves you, too, babe—”

“Not everyone.”

“Yeah, everyone,” he said, annoyed by her objection, like it was immature. “Own it. Own who you are. That motherfucker who had sex with my wife last night, what’s-his-name?”

She laughed and said, “Byron.”

“Yeah, that guy. The guy that everybody loves. That guy loves you. Loves you like crazy. So, look, if the guy that everybody loves loves you, it’s like he vouches for you. You don’t have to change, you don’t have to be somebody else. . . . What do you have to do?”

He said it like the answer was obvious, but she didn’t see it. “What do I have to do?”

“That’s what you have to figure out.”

“Some help you are.” Now she bumped her tiny shoulder against his. The skin contact was fantastic and got her heartbeat quickening. She loved close contact with Cody, loved spending time with him.

“I’m kidding. I already told you.”

She turned to him, watched him guzzle the last of his beer, his head back, neck strong and muscular, his Adam’s apple going up and down. “When? When did you tell me?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, then he faced her. “Chey, you’re perfect the way you are. Be yourself.”

“That’s all I can be.”

He said, “Then be that with me.”

“And you say that’s roleplaying, being yourself?”

He shook his head, smirking. “This is a heavy talk, man.” He pushed back from the ridge and back paddled in the well of the automatic doorway for the jet skis, getting himself to the swimming deck. “Let’s take this topside.”

She watched as he put his empty bottle on the swimming deck and pulled himself to stand in one powerful yet graceful motion, up and onto the deck, walking, pulling the hair back from his face. His body was so incredible and she loved to watch it. She followed him, swimming into the bay’s well and pulling herself onto the swimming deck with a little less athleticism.

There were two large loungers on this deck, feet apart, and Cody sat on one. She sat on the same one, both of them in direct hot sunlight. She finished her beer and set the bottle on the deck. Cody lay back on the lounger, two feet still on the deck at the lounger’s side. She regarded him over her shoulder, his muscular midsection rippling, putting his big arms behind his head, looking at her with lazy eyes. He said, “I was here first, babe.”

“You don’t want to share?”

His eyes roamed her naked back. “You think I want to be alone when I can be with someone like you?”

“Someone like me, or me?”

He nodded his head aside for her to join him. The lounger was oversized, padded and comfortable and wide enough for two, though it would be a tight squeeze.

* * *

The first sign of trouble was Paloma’s unsmiling face. No snide good morning or comical appraisal of him and Scarlet arriving on the sunshine scene after rebuffing Paloma’s and Philippe’s advances last night—though he was innocent of any insult that rebuffing might have caused, because he was up for sex with Paloma with no reservations of any kind.

He and Scar arrived poolside on the yacht’s rear deck, fourth level, and while Philippe smiled at seeing them—smirked, really—Paloma disregarded them.

Under his breath, he said to Scarlet, “Uh-oh,” and Scarlet told him to, “Relax.”

He let Scarlet lead, showing Philippe a sly smile and giving him a what’s-up-buddy head nod. Philippe returned it. Paloma regarded them over top of her glasses, then lowered her gaze again to her tablet.

God damn she was smoking hot, laid out on a lounger baring most of her skin and soaking up the rays. She was German and Brazilian or some shit, maybe Portuguese; whatever she was, you didn’t often see women who looked like her. Just this wild mixed-bag of sultry and exotic parts, like some sort of Frankenstein sex goddess made up of all these sexy female scraps collected from around the globe. Her diffidence, though he was sure it was put on, hurt his feelings because he wanted to engage with her, wanted to get close to her. Wanted to finish up the thing that started last night, but Scarlet had put a stop to.

Scarlet picked a duo of loungers close to Philippe and Paloma, not beside them, but not on the other side of the pool, either. They sat down, feeling Paloma’s chill, and not speaking. But when they were stretched out together, he leaned closer to Scarlet and said, “I’m having trouble remembering why we didn’t mess around with them last night again.”

Scarlet put her Wayfarers on and glanced in Paloma’s direction. “Yeah, she’s very hot, buddy. I hope I didn’t ruin your chance with her.”

“You better not have.” He didn’t like the amused smile Scarlet showed, like she wouldn’t be too crestfallen if he never got his shot with Paloma.

She said, “We’re not going to get pushed around, Sully, my boy. All in due time. If it’s to be, it will be.”

“She says after a threesome with her husband and Philippe.”

Scarlet rolled her head his way and her eyes shone at him from over the top of her sunglasses. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“So do aching blue balls.”

She smiled at him, getting dominant in the way he liked. “You’ve been a good boy, and I’m going to make sure you get your cookie.”

* * *

They lay naked together in a way that seemed okay and terrible at the same time. Like innocent and yet if Byron came down the stairs to the swimming deck, she would scramble to put some distance between her and Cody. Right now, there was no distance between them. Right now, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between them. Their hot and wet skin was pasted together at the sides, hip to hip, ribs to ribs, her titty to his muscular pec, their nipples almost French kissing. It was very wrong and yet very right—their bodies stuck together like a perfect fit between tanned puzzle pieces.

Cody’s legs were parted, and she got a spectacular view down the rugged landscape of his heavenly body; the cliff side of his chest, the undulating slopes of his abdominal muscles, the stark hip-crest valley that led to the Devil’s Tower. Only the Devil’s Tower was absent today, not yet erected, hanging down between his open legs where she couldn’t see it.

She said, “This was how they were when I watched them.”

“Carla and your hubby?”

“Yeah. Only they were cuddled up under a blanket.”

“Maybe we’d be under a blanket if it wasn’t ninety degrees.”

“Sounds cozy,” she said, taking advantage of the innocent idle talk to put an arm hugging over his torso, climbing the inside of her thigh over his leg. She turned her face up to look at his. “Is it too hot to be this close?”

He scoffed like that was a ridiculous statement. “Never.”

“That’s what I think, too,” she said, now bringing up that arm from his middle and reaching for the sky like she was stretching, showing off a bare breast to him, exposing herself. But of course, he’d seen plenty of her naked body; that’s how they ended up jumping off the yacht in their crazy escape plan.

“What’s so funny?”

She put her arm down, lower this time, her hand touching that hip valley on the other side of his body, liking the smoothness, the heat on his skin, running her fingertips back and forth. “I can’t believe we jumped off the yacht.”

“That was nothing,” he said. “You wanna go try it from the top deck?”

“Um, no. I never want to do that.” She chuckled again, watching her fingers on his masculine body, protracting her fingers’ path, going from hip bone to the dip that led to where his penis hung now. “You’re pretty courageous.”

“Carla says I’m just too dumb to see danger.”

“Aw,” she said, laughing, “that’s so mean.” Her fingers slipped down into the steep seam between his legs, all four finger pads and thumb finding the supple shaft of his penis. Cody didn’t stop her; didn’t even flinch. She massaged his cock, drawing her fingers down its sleepy length, the suntan oil making her flesh drag on his.

“Or maybe accurate.”

“So, you’re just lucky you’ve made it this far alive? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Thank you. There’s reckless and then there’s reckless, you know?”

“There are not many men I’d jump off a yacht with.” Now she lifted his weighty meat up and lay it on his hip, watched it roll, the skin around the glans riffling. He had the best looking penis she’d ever seen.

“Well, it’s a pretty rare scenario. You’d have to be on many yachts with many men and have many reasons to even jump off in the first place.”

She snuffled a small laugh and pressed her soft lips on his hard shoulder, watching her fingers play with his penis. She said, “Just the same, I think it’s safe to say that you could get me to do anything. And I mean anything.” Her fingers plied and pulled on his cock, the thing inflating, getting fatter in the middle first for some reason.

“Even when you shouldn’t?” His voice had gone huskier, lustier.

She lay her palm over his growing manhood and looked up to his face again. “Maybe you and I have something else in common.”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe I’m just too dumb to see danger.”