Summer Swap 5-11

He watched Lily in the bathroom mirror, him standing behind her looking over her shoulder as he slid down her diaper. “Do I need to check if it’s dry?”

“No, Daddy,” she said, hands on the counter, sucking her own lips and giving him a cute face.

“You’re a good girl, Lily,” he told her, slinging away the diaper without checking to see if she was truthful. He tugged a baby wipe from the container on the counter and Lily stepped her legs out a little wider, going up on her toes. He reached under the light skirt of her cottony dress and wiped her creases, then dried her vagina with a face towel.

She scrunched her brow, and he said to her reflection, “What’s wrong, love bug?”

In a chiding, playful tone, she said, “Them leaving us all alone like that.”

He said, “They’re so rude.”

Her eyes went slyer, and she said to his reflection, “They’re afraid of me.”

He smiled. “They should be, my dirty little angel.”

She swished around to come face to face with him, rubbing her hands on his chest, eyes turned down like she was shy. “Daddy, Chey made me touch that man’s penis. It was all stiff and weird.”

He chuckled, lifting her chin. “Oh, sugar plum, I’d have never sent you with them if I knew they’d mistreat you.”

She still looked down, but nodded in his grip, almost talking to herself, but addressing him. “Stuff kept coming out of it.” She looked up and regarded him with questioning eyes. “What is that? Is it supposed to be like that?”

He said, “It makes the man’s penis slippery, sugar plum.”

She looked disbelieving. “Who wants a slippery penis? That sounds stupid.”

“So it goes in nice and easy.”

“Goes in where?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out, not knowing what to say next, and he started to laugh. Lily started to laugh, too, then slapped her hands on his chest to get back to business.

He cleared his throat and looked in her eyes. Lily nibbled on her lower lip. The back of his hand brushed the top of her thigh where the skirt’s hem met her skin. He slipped his hand under her skirt and eased his hand between her thighs. Lily put on a shocked expression but didn’t move away. He grazed his knuckles against her labia, turned the hand over and slipped his middle finger along her entrance, finding his wife slippery wet. His finger dipped inside her pussy and Lily gasped and went higher on her toes, eyes widening with shock. The tip of his finger applied pressure, a come-hither gesture, rolling with purpose over her swollen clitoris. Lily’s eyes went hazy.

He brought his hand up between their faces and showed her his shining finger. “See, see how you’re all slippery, too?” Lily nodded and he rubbed his thumb on his slippery finger as demonstration. Then he touched the finger to her lower lip and slipped it across her swollen flesh. His finger went into her mouth and his wife’s mouth formed a pouting ring around the intrusion, her tongue gliding against the pad. He withdrew his finger with a quiet pop. Lily’s head fell back, her eyes sleepy and sultry.

She said, “A man’s thing is supposed to go in down... down there?”

“It is, baby.”

“I’ve seen your thing, Daddy.”

He warned her, knowing where she would go with this. “Lily...”

“Daddy, your thing is way too big for that.”

“Lily, come on, no Daddy sex stuff, you know that.”

She pooched out her lips and made a childish grunt, scowling at him and wiggling her hips.

He remained stoic, adamant on this one issue.

She eased her childish expression, now looking away like she was unbothered by his unwillingness to play. Then she had a new idea, turning to face him again, showing her babygirl expression again. “Why does yours have to be so big?”

“Lily...”

“Can I see it?”

He booped the end of her nose. “You’re too young, missy.”

The smooth and childish look on his wife’s face dissipated, became neutral, natural, and she smiled now, raising one eyebrow like she had a secret he didn’t know.

He said, “What? What is it?”

She sucked her lower lip, rolling her eyes up, considering whether she would tell him. Then:“I had to teach Byron the trick.”

“What trick?”

Lily’s placid, sweet neutral face transformed, and it gave him the chills to see her eyes gleam with sudden dominant malevolence. “Mistress’s trick,” she said. Even her voice had changed. From breathy and innocent to cruel and all-knowing.

“I don’t like the Mistress,” he said, his mouth going dry. The Mistress liked to lock his penis up in a tight silicone chastity cage when he had to travel outside of Manhattan without her. The Mistress liked other mean things, too. The Mistress liked to tie his penis up on her special plank so tight it went the color of an overcooked hot dog. The Mistress thought it was funny to spank his balls. One time the Mistress had worn sexy high heels and stepped on his scrotum. The Mistress only came out when Lily felt threatened. The “Trick” was something she would do to him before he would leave the city for work. She would pleasure him for hours in their apartment, bringing him to the edge—the very last-second brink—of orgasm, then cruelly deny him. When he was close to ejaculating, she would shut off his valves by putting pressure near his prostate. Then, when his hardness softened, she’d lock his penis in his chastity cage, return to being sweet Lily, kiss him on the cheek and send him off to the airport with nothing on his mind but absolute hyper-focus on his return home to her. The Mistress was cruel, yes, but while one fist was leather, the other held a sweet rose. When he came home, she gave him the release he’d craved. And then some. She’d made him black out one time the orgasm had been so tremendous.

She said, “You may not like the Mistress, but the Mistress gets what she wants.”

“Good thing she’s in Manhattan, then. I’m happy with my sweet Lily here in the Caribbean.”

“Good thing,” she said, putting her arms over his shoulders. “Hey, sailor,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“You want to get lucky?”

“I sure do.”

“You want to have sex with your wife tonight?”

“Definitely.”

“You know what I’m saying, right?”

“I do. You want to do it like the normies.”

“Totally vanilla,” she said. “You think you can handle that?”

“I’m hard as a rock right now. Can we do it missionary?”

“If that’s what you want,” Lily said, smiling.

He hesitated, and she cocked her head, saying then, “What is it?”

“Can we film it?”

Lily’s eyes brightened. “Get the camera.”

* * *

Byron said, “I couldn’t help it.” He was going to blame her for holding on to his ass and practically cock-locking him with her pussy, but he figured his schoolboy character wouldn’t be such a dick, so he followed up with, “You said it was probably okay. Isn’t it?”

Carla’s face contorted into a mask of fright. “If I get pregnant, they’ll kick me out, I’ll, I’ll get sent back home, I’ll, I’ll...”

“Maybe you should get up and do some jumping jacks.”

Carla froze, looking for her next line then couldn’t find it, realized how ridiculous his suggestion was and broke into beautiful hysterics, throwing her head back in the pillow and laughing so hard no sound came out.

“Come on,” he said, staying in character, “it’s not too late. It’s still warm. Just get up and bounce around. Gravity is our friend.” He took her wrists and tried to help her sit up but she’d lost it.

“It’s too late,” she said. “You came inside me. I told you not to.” She put on the worried face again.

He said the only thing he could think of now. “I’m here for you.”

Her chin dimpled like she was touched by his comment, then she smiled and tried to force it away, wanting to laugh again enough her cheeks had gone redder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Look at me—it’s going to be okay.”

Carla lost the battle with laughter and looked away from him, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. He stroked her arm, waiting her out.

At last, she turned to face him, eyes bright and happy. “I can’t do it,” she said and chuckled, rubbing her cheeks like she was exhausted. Then she laughed again and wiped her wet eyes. “You fucked the character right out of me, buddy.”

“Aw no,” he said. “I kind of liked her.”

“I totally lost her there.”

“We can keep going. Get her back. What happens if she gets pregnant?”

Carla touched his cheek. “I think I want something else now.”

“I’m game.”

“I knew you would be. Give me a minute to come down from that one.”

He went up on one elbow, rising above her. “Was I any good?” He put on the expression of his unsure schoolboy rogue and made her laugh with his breaking pubertal voice.

She put both hands under her cheek and looked in his eyes. “That was really fucking great, Byron. Just what I wanted. And then some.”

“It was just what I needed,” he said, looking more serious. He wasn’t sure if her boarding school ruse had been truly for her or if it had been for his sake, a way for him to gain his confidence with her, knowing how she intimidated him when she was the real Carla Weber.

He said, “What was your name back then?”

She frowned. “Still Carla.”

“Last name.”

“Oh,” she said and chuckled. “Carla Malone.”

“From the Connecticut Malones?”

“Wisconsin, buddy.”

“Makes sense,” he said, nodding.

“Was that a great big milkers joke? You think no one’s said anything like that before, you know what they said when I—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “You think I’m still some dumb high school boy? I did not mean your great big Wisconsin cheese-making tits”—Carla howled in silent hilarity—“I meant it made sense you were a Midwesterner.” He cupped a hand on her slender neck.

She said, “Why?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but there’s something wholesome about you. I mean it’s buried under the cynicism and general malevolence and manipulation, but it’s there. I didn’t see it before, but when you said Wisconsin I didn’t fall out of bed laughing thinking you were making a joke.”

Like she understood him, she said, “Yeah, Swedish immigrant farmers if you go back far enough, but I didn’t grow up on a homestead, just the regular old suburbs.”

“And did you really go all the way across the pond, to some fancy British boarding school?”

She smiled, then avoided the question, saying, “It’s been a minute already, Byron.”

“You’re ready for round two?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding, eyes sultry, rolling to her back, opening her arms and letting him see her bare breasts, big pillows with erect nipples, jostling on her thin frame.

He thumbed one of her nipples, let his hand drift to the other breast, coddled it now.

She said, “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m kind of thinking about those jumping jacks.”

She nodded assessing his proposal, considering it. She rolled her face toward his. “I’m thinking about having a boarding school baby.”

They both smiled at each other. Her hand went down between them, eyes still on his, her hand finding his erection fully returned and harder than ever. She said, “I was going to give you some head, but...”

Byron rolled between her open legs, saying, “I think we can get straight to the baby making.”