Summer Swap 6-5

WHAT HAPPENED WAS...

Sully fucked her nice and slow from behind, caressing her shoulder, pulling it closer to him so she would open up her posture, show her naked breasts to this other man in their bed. Watching. Smiling. Moonlight sparkling in his eye.

Sully thumbed her nipple, stroked her inner thigh. She was exposed, facing Cody, Sully behind her, on her side with her leg bent, knee pointed to the ceiling. Sully was showing her off. His hand sweeping over her curves like she was a brand new model year of Ferrari and this was the biggest international car show. And Cody looked like he wanted one. Cody looked like he’d whip out his big fat credit card to have her in his garage. Even if it was only for a night.

Sully whispered in her ear, “If I said he could, I swear to god right now, that guy would fuck you.”

“I think you’re right,” she said.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said now. It prickled her skin and tightened her nipples even harder. Then he said, “Tell him you want to see that dick of his.”

As she began to speak, Sully smacked her butt cheek, interrupting her, whispering in her ear, “No cowboy voices tonight. I don’t like that shit.”

She snorted an unsexy laugh, then covered her mouth, hiding her face in her hair. Sully chuckled and smacked her bottom again, never ceasing his slow and careful pace of his stroke in her tender interior.

Cody laughed too, saying, “What’s so funny?”

She bit her lower lip and looked at him, held in her husband’s embrace, reaching over and running her hand from Cody’s hard chest, down his midsection and hooking a curled index finger into his waistband right above his fly. “There’re no cowboys here tonight,” she said.

“They’re out on the ranch,” he said. “It’s only me in this bed.”

She tugged on his waistband, saying, “I want to see it.”

Cody’s eyes stayed on hers, lowering then to look her naked body over, her skin hot with sexual activity, her nipples hard and aching, her pussy engorged and wet and stuffed. He undid his fly, and she watched the muscles of his forearms work as he drew down his zipper. He pulled his big penis out, stretched it, then let it fall on the bed in a fleshy heap, half-hard and puffed up but still pliable.

Sully’s cock surged inside her and she gasped. Sully bit her neck. Her hand returned to Cody, this time her fingers crawling over the hot, gummy flesh of his enlivening organ. She cupped her hand over it, could feel it twitching in her palm, growing bigger and bigger. She smiled at Cody and he smiled at her in return, enjoying their bizarre connection in the moment.

Sully said to her now, “Get him hard without touching him, baby. Let him get hard watching you orgasm.”

Her husband’s dirty game sent a wicked thrill that rushed through her like a surprising gust, like a sinful dust devil rising up out of nowhere and sending everything into disarray. She let Cody’s cock go and moved her hand to cup her husband’s cheek, kissing him over her shoulder as he fucked her a little quicker, a little deeper. Philippe had worked her interior over last night, but the spate of liquid arousal prompted by her lusty husband protected her from discomfort. Sully felt good. Sully felt big and hard and gave her all the pleasure in the world. She let Cody know by responding to her husband’s ministrations with moans and gasps and soft cries, writhing on the bed with hot desire.

Cody watched a long while and she in turn watched his cock grow big and hard. Starting out as a floppy boneless thing, thickening, straightening, getting longer, growing closer and closer to her. She witness his cock head inflate to a perfect textbook cock head, large and flared, the coronal ridge getting thicker. She bet she would feel his cock head. Feel that lip inside her if he fucked her, plunged her.

Sully worked her over, bit by bit, rolling her so she eclipsed his body, half laying on him, her legs wide, Cody watching where Sully’s cock went in and out of her pussy—that absolutely throbbed with the strangest passion right now. An orgasm was building and Cody would watch it.

Then Sully slowed and talked to Cody for the first time since they began, saying, “She likes it if you pat her right here,” reaching between her thighs and patting the underside of three fingers over her commissure, rolling them down a little so they put pressure on her clitoris.

“Hoo,” she exclaimed, a whoops-y-daisy thrill zipping from a startling spot between her vagina and anus. A kaleidoscope of sexual butterflies flittered in her tummy. Her breaths came shaky as she anticipated Cody helping her get over the edge. She almost warned him against it, the sexual thrill here too much to bear.

Cody sat up, eyes never leaving her pussy, pulled off his T-shirt, the light now dancing all over his lean muscle, putting daubs of silvery lunar light on his large shoulders. He pushed his shorts down, now naked as she and Sully, scooting closer on the bed. Sully guided her legs to open even wider, resting his palm on the middle of her thigh. He stroked his cock into her deeper, holding, pulling away, then pushing in again in an inexorable tide-pull toward orgasm. Cody’s hand swept down her tummy, never touching her, hovering then over the place where her husband entered her. He patted her, and she squeaked a funny sound, the thrill of his blatting touch popping off in her brain like bright and naughty pop rocks. She couldn’t wait for him to do it again, her breath weak and shaky, the time spent waiting becoming huge and dreadful. Then he smacked her clit again, a wet splat that had her whimpering. Cody and Sully worked her like that, taking their time, not rushing her to orgasm—no, practically torturing her on the very blade-edge of release.

In the end, she begged them to make her come.

“P-please,” she said, desperate but chuckling, trying to show them good humor so they would reward her with what she wanted, but inside so close to breaking down that if they didn’t allow her to come, she would shriek and wail to get what she wanted.

But Sully fucked her quicker. Cody upped his effort, double-patting, sometimes triple-patting, keeping her guessing. And when she finally did come, Cody pushed the pads of his fingers down in unholy circles, and she cried and babbled with shuddering electric delight as the orgasm twisted her body into an awkward torsion, hands clawed and twisted, one eye closed, one eye open but the lashes fluttering.

When it was done, she collapsed, her cheek batting onto Cody’s muscular chest. The two men enjoyed themselves, proud of their hard work’s result, but she didn’t care if they even cracked open beer cans and high-fived each other, nothing would offend her now, she was too noodled to care.

It took a long time for her to come out of it, and Sully’s hardness lagged until he slipped out of her. As her systems came back on line, she began kissing and suckling Cody’s bronzed chest, working closer to his nipple. Sully wound his hand in her hair and guided her face away from Cody, bringing her mouth to his. They kissed, though her lips were a little lethargic.

Sully said, “If you want to put your mouth on him, he might appreciate it somewhere else. The man was so good to you.”

“He was,” she said.

“I’m warning you though: watching you suck his cock’s going to make me hard again.”

“I’d prefer that as a promise than a warning.”

He smiled and kissed her, then pushed her toward Cody, who’d heard what they said, and now lay back. His body was so fucking gorgeous. The big chest, narrow waist and hips, the abs. And that perfect dick, that unbelievable Brad Pitt of handsome dicks in the world, hard, erect, laying up on his trim belly, off to one side, big hand pointing to 10:30 if she was looking from the ceiling, extending above his hip bone.

She curled up between the two men, her head on Cody’s stomach, her bare butt and sex pointing at her husband, who caressed her haunch. She dragged her nails up Cody’s thigh, watching his cock jitter with his fast heart beat.

Sully said, “Scar told me you have the best cock she’s seen. I think she’s got a crush on it.”

She foot-nudged his knee to can his stupid talk, then skimmed her palm up Cody’s erect length, from his balls hanging between his parted legs up to his end, then back down, finally gripping him mid-shaft and squeezing.

* * *

Instead of the whole truth, Scarlet told Cheyenne that Cody watched her and Sully have sex.

Cheyenne said, “And that’s it?”

“Pretty much,” she said, but then felt guilty enough Chey could read it on her face.

“So not everything.”

“I, uh, may have used my mouth—”

Chey jutted forward. “You went down on him?”

“This is crazy,” she said, throwing up her hands in surrender. “Defending myself for doing nothing wrong.”

“I know it’s not wrong, Scarlet. I’m not saying it’s wrong. It’s like, unfair.”

“Unfair how? Because he’s your guy?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Chey said, jabbing her head like a rooster.

“Oh, come on, Cheyenne. You’re mad because Sully and I messed around with Cody in our bed more than you’re mad at me for messing around with Byron.”

“That wasn’t behind my back.”

“It’s not behind your back if it’s not your husband.”

“Sure it can.”

Scarlet squeezed her hand down her face from forehead to chin, trying to calm herself in the face of such irrationality. She said, “Didn’t you masturbate for my guy? Spread your legs and show him while he jerked off?”

Cheyenne didn’t react with anger, nor with recognition of her unreasonable argument. Her face blank, mouth slimmed, she said, “He wasn’t your guy then.”

“He’s not my guy now,” she exclaimed, laughing because it was ridiculous. “Sully is my guy. He’s the unifying force of my fun times on this yacht. Have you thought about that? About doing this with Byron instead of with Cody?”

“You don’t see Cody and Carla swing together, do you?”

“Chey, I’ve like been an, air quote, swinger for about half an hour, baby.”

“Then why are you telling me how it’s supposed to go?”

“Because you’re upset, you’re mad at me, and I care about you, and I want you to frame this thing in your mind in a way that works.”

Chey folded her arms, looking sullen. “Byron and Carla slept together on the prow of the yacht last night. The two of them curled up together in a blanket. He held her for an hour.”

Scarlet took a deep breath, then sighed. “They were probably cold, Chey.”

“They could go inside if they were cold, Scarlet.”

Scarlet rolled her head around on her neck, considering it. “I’m sorry,” she said, realizing the hurt that might cause her friend. “But I’m also not sorry. Maybe that was a good thing. And you know what?—that was a gift you gave to Byron. Byron’s been your champion, he would walk through flames if it pleased you.”

Chey shook her head and rolled her eyes, admitting in her own silent way that what Scarlet said was true. “Why do you think I’m so possessive, then? So jealous?”

“You should be jealous. That’s good. Jealous for Byron makes sense to me.”

“Byron’s my husband. My friend. The things he shared with Carla were sweet things. My things.”

“Cheyenne, come on...”

Chey threw up her hands, irritated. “Why does nobody see it? Yes, I’m jealous. Yes, it hurt. But at the same time I saw my Byron able to share a part of himself with someone else and maybe it looked good. Maybe Byron, the great and wonderful Byron, showed his own wife there was more to share than my stupid...” She gestured angrily between her own legs. “Why is it okay that Byron shared a sweet night with Carla Weber, but if I have feelings and emotions for Cody and I want to share them with him, I’m somehow a crazy bitch?”

“Chey, no one said you’re a crazy bitch.”

“You act like I’m one. You talk like I’m one. Do I go after you for your approach to this whole thing? Do I lecture you how you’re commodifying sex, reducing it to transactional pleasures? No, I don’t do that. We’re both doing the same thing: extra-marital fun, looking for some sexual adventure to share with our husbands. Byron showed me something last night, and I thought it looked... nice. If Byron had watched me with Cody and then said he wanted to ride Carla like he was a cowboy and she was a bronco that needed busting, no one would have batted an eye. They would have laughed and patted him on the back and told him to go for it. I want what Byron showed me, and suddenly I’m emotionally deranged and I’m not seeing things properly.” With that, she stood, arms still folded, looking less glum and more energized with spirit now, enjoying her self-righteous anger. “I’m going to cool off somewhere. Have a drink. Get some sun. Be alone. So, no offense, Scar, this time, please, don’t follow me.”