Summer Swap 1.4

Sully bustled Scarlet into their bedroom and closed the door. He’d tried to pull her down to the engine room because it was closer than their bedroom suite. They were both turned on like crazy, but thank god Scarlet had a clearer head than him and steered them to a place where they had a comfortable bed to fuck on. It would have been pretty hot to fuck his crazy wife in the engine room of a multimillion dollar yacht, but it was probably noisy in there and they needed to talk as well as fuck right now.

Both of them were quick to get on the bed, two married people brimming with unexpected pleasure provoked by near-adulterous behavior. On their knees, they scrambled to remove their clothing as fast as they could. Sully threw his shirt to the floor, saying, “Cody calling Philippe Buffalo Bill—is that more of that pretend-cowboy shit?”

Scarlet stopped struggling out of her shirt and popped the top of her head back out of the shirt’s neck hole, just showing her eyes scrunched in quizzical lines. “What?”

Sully grabbed his wife’s shirt with impatient urgency and pulled it off. Scarlet bowed forward to let him take it, righted herself with her arms folded behind her back, untying her bikini-top’s strings. The way she posed like that—knees apart, back arched, bikini-clad breasts thrust forward, hard nipples bulging out the fabric—had his sex motor pegged. Twelve cylinders thunder-powering his rock-hard crankshaft. The way he’d yanked off Scarlet’s top had turned her red hair to a sex-tossed tangle. All that mated with the sultry look in her beautiful eyes, and his desire for her became too much to bear. He clutched her slender shoulders, tossed her onto her back, and climbed over top of her.

One arm ended up trapped behind her back; it looked uncomfortable, yet Scarlet was laughing. Her bikini bra lay loosely draped on her chest, breasts swaying and jostling as she struggled her arm free. Sully growled and snatched the bikini top away, clenching it in his teeth, shaking his head like a pit-bull with its favorite chew toy. He spat the fabric out of his mouth then glowered at his wife balefully, snarling, showing her all the nefarious things he intended to do to her body. Her sexual destruction was imminent.

As he mouth-lunged then tongue-bathed his favorite nipple, Scarlet laughed and caressed his head, running her long fingernails through his hair. She said, “You didn’t get that?”

Still tonguing her nipple, he gasped, “Get what?”

Scarlet giggled with glee and cradled his head. “Buffalo Bill.”

Sully raised to his knees, still straddling Scarlet, ripped down his zipper and yanked open his fly. His mighty underwear-stretching erection bulged out of the gap. “What’s there to get?”

Scarlet’s eyes dashed to what he’d just revealed, and she scooted upright to hand-caress its bulging belly. “Ooh, Sully, what do we have here?”

They worked together to get his shorts down, and once they were, Scarlet was all over his throbbing, naked cock, kissing it, stroking it.

And for a whole half minute his mind was obliterated, and all that consumed him was the heavenly pleasure of intimate togetherness with the woman he loved. Everything she did to him was incredible, and the borderless fortune of Scarlet in his life bloomed behind his eyes in a pinpoint spot center, above-brow, where artists drew the third eye in psychedelic paintings.

“This is so crazy,” he whispered up toward the ceiling as Scarlet sucked his cock, her slick, soft mouth bathing a mouthful of the end of his cock in pure liquid lust. While he’d endured seven minutes—no, six minutes, thank you, Carla—in hell, Scarlet was secluded in heaven with Philippe. His wife had a crush on another man’s penis. Though he’d been seized with all kinds of moral, philosophical, tortured-mind challenges while Scarlet sealed up naked with Philippe in the closet, now that he was reunited and alone with his crazy woman, the spike of excitement right now made what he’d endured more than worth it. This was hands-down the most thrilling chapter in his life. Well, at least in his sex-life. Turns out his partner was freaky and kinky and he was too, and neither of them thought the other would be interested in getting freaky. They were both very wrong. When Carla had yanked open the door, even though it was dark in the closet, Sully was sure Scarlet and Philippe were embracing. face to face. Junk to junk. Then the guy comes out of the closet, acting a noble gentleman, retrieving Scarlet’s clothing that Carla refused to surrender. Everyone’s eyes were on Philippe—he was a good-looking guy with a great body—but he’d tucked his privates between his legs so no one could see it. Cody had laughed and pointed and called Philippe—

“So what is it,” he asked, “what’s Buffalo Bill?”

Scarlet chuckled around his cock, let it slip from her mouth, and looked up at him. All sexy eyes and love and puffy cock-sucking lips shining with saliva. She got up to her knees like he was, looking him in the eye, smiling, having so much fun. She pushed his dick downward, saying, “Buffalo Bill. You know, Silence of the Lambs.”

He narrowed his eyes with incredulity. “Silence of the Lambs wasn’t a Western, Scarlet.”

“You’ve got cowboys on the brain, buddy,” she said, lightly butting her forehead up against his, “ever since you saw Cody raw dog Cheyenne.”

“Raw dog? Since when do you say raw dog? You sound like the guys I work with.”

“Girls say raw dog, Sully. Boys don’t own that word.”

“Two words.”

“Mansplainer,” she said, then cranked his erection down even harder, trying to stuff it between his legs. He was way too hard right now to get tucked.

“Ow, quit cranking, you’re going to snap it,” he said, resisting her.

Scarlet laughed and let his cock go. It bounced upward almost hard enough to smack his belly. “The serial killer was called Buffalo Bill, Sully. Remember he tucked his stuff down in that scene when he was looking at himself in the mirror?” She took up a grip on his wagging cock again and stroked. The pleasure got him lightheaded.

“So esoteric,” he said, groaning. “Cody needs better references.”

“Made me laugh,” she said. Then, narrowing her eyes to sultry, teasing slits, she said, “You know what didn’t make me laugh?”

“What?” he said and prepared himself for something dirty she would say.

“Seeing the back side of Philippe’s tuck job, Sully.”

“Oh, god,” he sighed. “Here we go.” His wife’s fascination with male genitalia was a prompt of wild sexual excitement he couldn’t fathom. There was no denying it though: Scarlet’s kink entertained him in the wildest way.

Scarlet dropped her hand between his thighs, down near his knees. “Babe, when he bent over, his penis touched the back of his calf.”

“You made him hard?”

“I wasn’t even trying,” she said in a whispered sound of disbelief.

“That guy didn’t stand a chance locked in a closet with you, not a thing on that beautiful body. Did he touch you?”

“A little,” she said, smiling and coquettish.

“You guys didn’t kiss, did you?”

She shook her head no.

“Did he try to kiss you?”

“No,” she said and laughed.

“Did you try to kiss him?”

“I’m not interested in kissing him. Not really.”

“I know what you’re interested in,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“It’s not a secret,” she said.

Sully worked even closer to her, their gazes locked. “Tell me: did my girl get what she wanted?”

Scarlet bit her lips and shook her head no in slow wags. “Not yet.”

“Aw, you didn’t?” He was legitimately disappointed. “You didn’t play with his thing?”

“No,” she said, scrunching her nose. Instead, right now she was playing with her husband’s thing—and that was okay with him. Then she whispered, “I touched it.”

His tone brighter: “You did?”

Scarlet said, “He’s ticklish.”

For some reason he found that endearing. And yet, he frowned and said, “Now I’m a little jealous.”

“Because he’s ticklish?” Scarlet cupped his balls and kneaded them gently.

“Because you were playing around and having fun with him.”

“But I held his penis. What about that?”

“I expected that.”

“You don’t like the unexpected.”

He thought about it. It was strange to have such new and weird ideas to work out in your adult head when he pretty much figured he had life figured out. “You know what? I like the unexpected. I like that jealous feeling, you playing around and tickling Philippe.”

“Well, I have something new and unexpected for you.” Her hand went up and down his slippery shaft in knee-trembling strokes. Her new mastery of him was astounding, and it was like they were on the precipice of something even bigger and better.

“What is it?”

He was prepared to hear his wife had changed her mind and decided that maybe she did want to have penis-in-vagina sex with Philippe after all. But, instead, she said, “I want to cuddle up with him.”

He laughed and then she laughed, both of them looking into each other’s eyes, recognizing how crazy this yacht trip had begun. She even still held his raging erection, underhanded and petting the top side with the other hand.

“Cuddle up with him? I thought you were going to say something else.”

“I like the body hair.”

“You do?” He couldn’t help himself; finding his wife so honest and adorable, he cupped her perfect face in his hands. This was an openness he could never have expected. They were becoming closer than best friends, closer than husband and wife.

She said, “I didn’t think I would, but I really like it.”

“I can’t grow any body hair. I can grow a beard if you want.”

“You’re perfect the way you are, baby. You’re exactly want I want.”

He said, “But...”

“But I kind of want to snuggle up with Philippe.”

“Like spoon with him?”

“Yeah,” she said, and they both broke up laughing again, never looking away from each other.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She made a what’re you gonna do face and shrugged a shoulder. He squashed her cheeks in and it pooched her perfect mouth outward. He kissed her, long and enduring, filled with happiness, play, lust, and love. He said, “We’re going to make it happen, baby. I swear.”

Scarlet said, “Hey,” guiding his hands away from her face and holding them in her own.

“Yeah?”

“And you’re going to get what you want.”

He said, “What’s that?”

“Whatever you want it to be. I mean it. You want Carla?”

He snuffled laughter, holding hands down at their thighs, looking into her eyes with love, his cock shooting up between them like a clenched fist, talking about ridiculous things. “I’ll think about it. Right now, I’m all about you.”

“And I’m all about you.”

“Until you go off with Philippe.”

“I’ll still be all about you.”

“Of course you will be.”

“No, I mean because you’re going to be there with me, watching.”

“Not a chance in hell, babe,” he said, laughing, kissing her again, his kiss pushing her head back to the pillows, getting over her while she raised up her knees to accommodate him, looping her ankles behind his back. He imagined being with her while she played with Philippe and preferred it like it was tonight. Knowing something was happening but not seeing, making it up in your head what was going on and then getting reunited. He pushed his length into his beautiful, crazy wife, going slow, watching her expression change as he spread her opening wide. He groaned with delight. “Not a chance in hell.”