Summer Swap 6-1

Cheyenne led the way down the steps from the outdoor dining room, through the narrow passage that brought them into the third level lounge, across from the main kitchen. No one was up yet, and the kitchen was dark and silent. They passed it by and went to the first door on the right, their own private suite. She walked in, pivoted and sat down on the edge of the bed, arms folded, crossing one leg over the other. Closed off.

He stood there saying nothing in his blanket shroud, naked underneath. The way Cheyenne sat suddenly struck him it was like he’d been caught by the matron at that faraway boarding school. Cheyenne dressed, sitting with shielded posture, face stoic, neck held at an administrative angle. His scrotum squirmed and shrank.

He cleared his throat and said, “Can I get dressed first? Before we talk.”

Chey nodded, then slumped a little, putting her head forward into her palms, then smoothing back her hair. And when she’d finished this, she sat back, more open, legs crossed still, but her hands out behind her, supporting her weight. It was a hopeful sign.

He rummaged through the drawers and found shorts and a t-shirt, slipped the shorts on under the protective shielding of the blanket, then tossed it away and stretched his arms into the t-shirt. On top of feeling like a caught schoolboy up to no good, he suffered the added weight of a scandalous husband not honoring his marriage’s fidelity. It was crazy because all of it had been pre-arranged, and yet he couldn’t help avoid the aching twinges of guilt that pulsed in his heart.

He’d betrayed her.

He hadn’t, but he felt like he had.

Now he was dressed and standing before his wife, feeling like he should apologize.

But apologize for what?

He said, “How long were you sitting there at the table?”

She said, “Are you worried about what I saw?”

What did she see?

She’d watched him wake with Carla and share some pillow talk, and nothing sweet like Rock Hudson and Doris Day, because he was naked and he was married to another woman.

What had she overheard? Truly— how long had she been watching?

Instead of answering Chey’s question, he said, “Why were you watching?” A much better question. Why was all of this on him? Why was it always on him?

Chey shrugged one shoulder and looked away, saying to the other side of the room, “I had to beat myself up, I guess.”

“Beat yourself up?”

“A taste of my own medicine.” Now her head slowly oscillated until she faced him. He saw hurt in his wife’s eyes, could tell she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her eyes gleamed like they were wet with tears.

This wasn’t a fight. Everything that had happened with him and Carla had taught him to believe that this moment with Cheyenne would be a fight. But it wasn’t.

He went to her, scooting to her side, sitting, both of them facing the suite’s closed door. The window to the Caribbean behind them lit half Cheyenne’s face in dawning gold. She said, “It wasn’t easy.”

“You didn’t have to watch.”

“Yeah, I had to,” she said.

He asked again, “How long were you there?”

“A long time,” she said.

Had she watched them sleep? Had she been there before they slept? He wanted to know, but didn’t want to ask.

She said, “I spent some time with Cody last night...”

Oh, no, here it was. No, this wasn’t a fight. It was a surrender. Cheyenne wanted to surrender their marriage to Cody, Cody sitting on a throne, Chey supplicated before his tanned feet in beach flip-flops, worshipping his big upright cock like a totem with special spiritual powers.

“Chey...”

“Not like that,” she said, cocking her head and frowning. “Sully and Scarlet were there, too. I wasn’t alone with Cody.”

“You weren’t?”

“Last night was special for you, Byron. I wouldn’t wreck it.” She lowered her eyes.

It surprised him. Given her demeanor this morning, he’d expected bad things, but this seemed like a good thing.

But then she said, “Truth was I wanted to .”

“Oh.”

She looked up again. “But I wouldn’t. And... I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t? What does that mean?”

“Like you with Carla. When I was with Cody that first night—

“All I could think about was you,” he said, knowing where she was going with this.

“I was distracted,” she said. “I was in bed with Sully and Scarlet—”

“In bed with them?”

“Well, I mean, talking. We all had our clothes on— Uh, no... Scarlet didn’t.”

“What happened?’ he said, voice rising comically. “What did I miss?”

Chey clucked her tongue and waved her hand like she wanted to change the subject. “You didn’t miss anything. It wasn’t like that. I think I interrupted Sully and Scarlet, and then Scarlet sent Sully to get Cody”—Byron’s frown deepened—“and then Cody came.”

“Into the bed? You were all in bed together?”

“We were wearing clothes, Byron.”

“But Scarlet wasn’t.”

“That’s Scarlet. We’re not talking about her. Listen to what I’m telling you... I needed comfort because I felt like giving you to Carla had been a big, big mistake. But then I realized thinking that way was a weakness. A weakness in my character; some weak part of me yelling out for all the attention. . . . You don’t have that weak part with the big loud mouth like I do.”

He chanced touching her now, putting out his right hand to cover her left, resting over top of it on the mattress. She didn’t smile, but she also let it stay there; liked it there.

“I do have that part, Chey,” he said, wanting to be honest.

“You didn’t listen to it.”

“Nobody was going to listen to it, that much I knew.”

“You mean me, I wasn’t listening?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that. That would be me trying to blame everything on you. And besides, what’s there to blame? Everything is working out.”

“You think it’s working out?”

He couldn’t read if she was serious or comical or angry. He said, “Isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Anyway, that big loud part of me was pretty mean to you, and last night I tried getting in touch with whatever it is you’ve got. Whatever it is inside you that makes you so...” Her eyes rolled up.

“Magnanimous?”

“What does that mean?”

“ I don’t know, like giving, generous...”

“Fucking get me a dictionary,” she said, rolling her eyes around and laughing.

He squeezed her hand.

“Magnanimous,” she said. “But more happened last night than just me talking with Cody.”

“Like what?”

“Cody said things to me that made me think... Think about us. You and me.”

* * *

Scarlet’s eyes fluttered open to the incoming sunlight, revealing she was eye-to-eye—two eyes to one—with a fleshy viper, its cobra cowl flared, its body rigid, resting on her forearm and looking like it was ready to strike. She hoped it wasn’t venomous. Was it the thing that had chimed yet again, rousing her from a wonderful warm sleep?

Awareness flooded in the ensuing seconds. Sully hugged her back, spooning her from behind. Her head lay on Cody’s muscular chest, her arm hugging his trim midsection. It was his enormous and breathtaking erection stretched over the soft pad of her forearm just below the elbow. The snake head hovering a few inches from the bridge of her nose was only his corpulent cock head. Cody’s perfect penis had no fangs, nor venom.

When she tried to speak, her lips had stuck together and she flubbed her line, having to open her mouth and waggle her jaw before she tried it again. “Whose fucking phone is that?” The chiming that woke her.

Sully grunted in his throat, then mumbled, “Yours.” It sounded like his lips had stuck together too.

She said, “Unh-uh. Airplane mode.”

Sully drew in a long, airy breath through his nostrils, then grumbled, “Mine too.”

“Hey,” she said, drumming her fingers on Cody’s hip bone, his stiff cock jittering up and down on her forearm muscles. “Someone keeps texting you.”

When Cody didn’t stir, she craned her neck, pivoting her face upward, her ear on his chest near one of those picture-perfect brown nipples like a suction cup. She swerved her arm from under Cody’s morning wood—so stiff it didn’t fall to his stomach—put her hand between his legs and four-finger patted his balls.

Cody’s eyes fluttered open, widened, narrowed, went sleepy again. With a few more pats, he opened them again, the sideways morning light changing his turquoise eyes to a pale, icy green. Then he did the same protracted nostril inhale her husband had done, looked down at her and showed her an easygoing, sleepy smile.

And as though he’d passed out at a sex party, wakened and wanted to get right back into the fun, he reached down and thumbed his cock upright like a meaty tower.

“Very impressive, sleepyhead,” she said, slipping her hand from his scrotum to cup mid-shaft on his member’s belly. “But I need you to find your phone and smash it to pieces for me.” She waggled his erection now, adding, “Bring it here, and I’ll whack it with this.”

Cody arched his back, stretching, his cock swelling in her easy grip. He grunted and groaned, looked over to Sully behind her, Sully probably back to sleep already knowing her husband.

Slow recognition passed Cody’s handsome face as he recalled who he was with and where he was. “Oh yeah,” he said, flexing his arms just as his phone chimed one more time.

She let his cock go and rolled to her back, putting her hand up to pat Sully’s stubbly cheek.

“That’ll be Carla,” Cody said, rocking forward and springing off the bed, bending over and going through his clothes laying on the floor beside the bed.

She scratched Sully’s neck, watching Cody’s pale and perfect boy ass and his hanging balls.

Then: something rigid pushing against her hamstring.

She scoffed, saying to Sully, “You’ve got morning wood, too?”

No shame at all, Sully just nodded, his scratchy chin rubbing on her collar, humming a lazy affirmative sound.

“Good for you, stud,” she said, and patted his sleepy cheek.

“Scarlet, baby,” Cody said, pulling his phone out of his shorts pocket, “you’re just too damn hot. Every man on this yacht woke up with a stiffy ‘cause of your sheer proximity.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, admiring Cody standing sideways to the bed, all lean and naked muscle, attention on his phone, reading the texts, long and impressive penis levitating straight out, ready for action. She wanted him back in bed.

“Yup, it’s Carla,” he said, chuckling. “Back in our room, wondering where the heck I am.” He tossed his phone next to her on the bed where he’d been laying, stooped and pulled on his t-shirt.

She pooched out her lips, disappointed she couldn’t admire his body and those low slants of belly muscle angled at his hips anymore. He stepped into his shorts and pulled them up, cock too inflated and straight to go in easy.

“Aw, you’re leaving us?”

Cody said, “I’d love to stay, Scar, but Carla sounds excited. I want to hear how it went.”

She said, “Me too.”

Sully muttered, “Bunch of gossips,” and she patted his cheek again. Harder.

Cody stuck his butt out and palm-shoved his erection behind the fly before standing straighter and zipping up. He grabbed his sideways bulge and squeezed it, saying, “I hope Byron was considerate enough to leave me a little something.”

“I’m sure he did,” Sully said, his skeptical words damp on her collar.

Cody said, “They went all night,” collecting his phone from the bed and squeezing it into the pocket opposite where his cock angled.

Now Sully lifted his head, eyes just sleepy slits, brow furrowed, mouth squished to one side in a doubtful smirk. She laughed and pecked his cheek, saying, “Look who wants the gossip now.”

Sully rolled his eyes and grumbled, his head falling into her hair and collar again.

She said, “Sully’s worried Byron can go longer than him.”

Cody laughed, and leaned on the bed, putting a knee up next to her. He lowered his mouth and she kissed him on his soft lips. Her hand went without prompting and cupped the cottony bulge between his legs and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Cody said, “I love Sully’s competitive spirit,” and left her, standing bedside again, taking his watch from the night table and looping it on his wrist.

She said, “Don’t get him started.”

Cody buckled his watch. “Don’t you want him started?”

“That’s a good point. I bet Byron left Carla and is now servicing Cheyenne as a morning treat. Chey did say he’s a real rabbit.” She watched for Sully in her periphery and sure enough he lifted his head, eyes opening, resigned to being awake now, and a competitive gleam winking.

He said, “Nobody wants to sleep around here?”

She said to Cody, “That’s the only competition he’s interested in this morning apparently.”

Cody looked ready to go, standing further from the bed, smiling at them. He said, “You guys know what you’re going to say to Paloma?”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be with her last night?”

“Kind of, I guess,” she said. Sully rubbed his eyes, trying to rouse himself.

“But it was me in your bed,” Cody said.

“So?”

Cody shrugged, waving bye to them with a lazy waist-high salute, heading to the door. “I hope she takes it well.”

She lifted her head from the pillow. “You think she’ll be mad?”

Cody shrugged again, standing with a hand on the door lever, enjoying not telling her for sure, his face amused in a way that said he thought Paloma would be real mad.

“She oughtta be mad at you if she wants to be mad about it,” she said and let her head thump back down. Sully was up on one elbow at her side now.

“I hope it works out that way for you, Scar,” he said, winking. “See you guys later.” Then he was gone.

She looked at Sully looming over her now, the sleepiness wiped from his face, replaced with a look of lusty desire. She said, “What do you think’s gonna happen here?”

He snatched the sheets away, revealing her naked and she yelped and laughed, bringing her knees tight together as Sully tried to climb on top of her. He straddled her thighs and put his wet lips on her tummy and blew a long, wet, and loud raspberry. She squirmed higher, freed her trapped legs and brought her knees up to her chest then opened her thighs. “Do it again,” she said. “But lower.”