SUMMER SWAP 2 // Chapter 22

Ah shit. I can't believe I mixed this up. I could have sworn I posted this chapter on Wednesday.

This chapter comes before the one I posted last night. I'm so sorry, everyone!

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Byron said, “Why not?” He humped the belly of his cock against his wife’s knuckles and diamond ring. “What’s wrong?”

Cheyenne crinkled her nose, looked away for a second, but then returned her gaze. “It’s sensitive.”

“You can tell me.”

She looked back at him, almost smiling. “No, baby—I’m sensitive here,” she said, patting her pussy.

“But I need it,” he said, not with any needling or whining, but a simple statement. “You said anytime, anything I wanted.”

Cheyenne contemplated it for a moment and he watched her eyes flicker over his as her expression went through an elastic range of emotions. But then she slid her hand away. “Will you be gentle?”

“Very gentle,” he said, and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I’m going to take care of you. We’ve got this room for the night. This is our room and our bed. You’re my wife again.”

Without having to use his hands to guide his entry, he nuzzled the head of his cock into her slick aperture. When she moaned, he teased the head in and out and then up over the nest of furrowed membranes that cushioned her clitoris. It got Cheyenne’s hips driving. “I’m going to be so gentle,” he reminded her, easing himself in. She gasped and winced. He said, “I’m not Cody. I’m your husband.”

She nodded, her brow lowering, and he asked her if she was okay. “It’s good,” she said, relaxing.

The idea that his husband-sized dick didn’t expand her pussy the way her wild cowboy lover did aroused him for some strange reason. And, again, he wasn’t jealous. It excited him. Excited him because there was no fear anymore. His ego and his machismo weren’t challenged.

He slid deeper inside her, studying her face, whispering to her, “I just want to come inside you. When you sleep, it’s my come that sits in your belly.” Cheyenne’s lips parted and she emitted a tremulous warble of erotic excitement. He said, “I’m going to make love to you. Going to make love to you with Cody’s sperm inside you. But you’re going to fall asleep in my arms with my load in your tummy, you hear me?”

She nodded in agreement, her expression showing him everything he said made total sense. “Nice and slow,” she said. “Nice and slow, and come inside me.”

“Bring your knees up,” he said, and she did. “I’m not going to go deep.” That figured: he wouldn’t be able to go as deep as Cody—but he wanted Chey to know he had a simple task to perform and he would do it in a way to minimize her discomfort. “Close your eyes and let me watch your face. It’s only going to take a minute.” Even that forewarning of premature ejaculation excited Cheyenne. He let his grip fall off her wrists, and she brought her hands onto his back and began to smooth over the muscles. She panted as he eased himself in and out of her, just an inch or two at a time, going at a turtle’s pace. His wife’s soft sounds of pleasure drove him wild, and even though he’d come in his swim trunks about ten minutes ago, it didn’t take long before his balls were pulling up tight and every muscle in his body seized. “I’m going to come,” he said.

“Yes, baby,” she said, fully soothing and supportive, hugging her arms around him, lifting her feet to rest them on his ass. “All the way inside me,” she said reminding him, guiding him by cinching the clutch her legs had around his waist, urging him to give her all he had.

And that feeling of sliding all the way inside her sent his mind into the atmosphere. He snorted and grunted, his whole body seizing as his cock turned to a steel rod and his balls shot their contents deep—as deep as he would go—inside Cheyenne.

She whispered, “I feel you—I feel you coming.”

That was all he wanted. Acknowledgment. Satisfaction. A return to the status quo. Any time they would do this crazy thing, there was one rule: before they slept, she would be clean, and he would come inside her.

The orgasm lasted more than a minute and left him gasping. He slipped his cock out of her, watching her face twist.

She grimaced and said, “I’m so sensitive right now.”

He thanked her for letting him make the relationship complete, then eased to the side and dropped in a heavy heap next to her. But he was quick to get an arm around her, spooning behind her, nuzzling his face into her towel-wrapped hair.

Nothing more was said, and even though there were lights still on, they both fell fast into a deep sleep.

* * *

Lily drank wine and watched Carla playing around with Arlo. The four of them were in the kitchen—Lily, Arlo, Carla, and Philippe—everyone else gone off to the hot tub or somewhere. Cody had been washing dishes but got a phone call and left. Arlo took Cody’s place, but Carla would hear nothing of it. She and Philippe would do the dishes, and Arlo and Lily would watch. Arlo lingered, offering to stack away dishes that Carla had dried. Carla wouldn’t hand them over, telling Arlo to “Sit, go on, sit. You’ll cook dinner and we’ll clean.”

Lily sipped her wine, frowning, trying to surmise the playful banter. She said, “Too bad Cody had to disappear. Perfect timing for him.” She smirked so Carla could see she was joking. Philippe laughed, loading the dishwasher.

Carla said, “Cody had important business. He’ll be back when he’s done.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Just yacht business,” Carla said, scrubbing a dish with a soapy sponge, her breasts swaying side to side under her cotton top. She wore bright yellow latex gloves that went up to her elbows.

Lily said, “I hope we’re not getting kicked out.” She cocked her head, swirling the wine in the wineglass’s bowl. “Maybe somebody saw you guys skinny-dipping today.”

Carla didn’t stop scrubbing, but there was a momentary pause. Lily watched Carla’s brows move around as she figured what to say about that. Carla said, “No one can see us out here, and I can’t believe we would be the first people not wearing clothes on this yacht.”

Arlo snatched the wet plate from Carla and began drying it with his own towel.

“Hey,” Carla said, “give me back my plate,” pursuing Arlo.

Arlo turned away and Carla hugged her arms around his body, those big breasts squashed on his back. And Lily didn’t like the way they were both laughing.

* * *

Scarlet and Sully tumbled through the doorway and fell to the floor. Sully donkey-kicked the door closed behind him as he scrambled overtop of her on his hands and knees.

“Get this off,” he said, trying to remove the top Scarlet had thrown on before they crossed the hallway. She tried helping him, but somehow they both got her arms tangled up in her hair and she squawked.

He said, “Fucking stay like that,” rolled her over to face the ground, scooted back and brought her to her knees, ass up, while she tried to untangle her hair from her wrists.

In one quick motion he pushed down his shorts, and with a fingertip, pushed aside the crotch of her swimsuit. Scarlet mewled and kicked her feet as he slid his cock into her hot, wet interior. It stilled the movement of her arms, and he loved her soft sounds of pleasure, muffled by the top wrapped around her face. He palmed the center of her back and pounded her bottom with his hips, getting himself deep inside—and with no shame thought of Cody fucking his wife. Thought of himself laying prostrate on a chair with his swim trunks tented out by his mighty boner as he watched Cody pound Scarlet into sexual oblivion. The sounds Cheyenne made echoed in his ears, and he twisted them into Scarlet’s sounds.

“Fuck,” he said, growling, pulling himself out before he ejaculated too soon and ruined the fun.

He Scarlet over to her back, then thumbed her top up over her nose so he could kiss her mouth. At last, Scarlet’s arms were untangled, and while they still made out and he tried to find her pussy with the tip of his cock, she pulled the top away. Her arms went around him and she gasped for air. “Get on the bed,” she panted. “I don’t want any rug burns.”

They both clambered to their feet, him with his dick pressed to his stomach by his trunks’ waistband and his wife with an askew swimming-suit bottom. She pulled off her swimwear before she crashed onto the bed. They were both panting and desperate by the time their heads met the pillows. She went to her back right away and opened her legs, only one thing on her mind: Sully fucking her. Her husband.

“I never knew you were such a wild woman,” he said, thumbing his cock head into her hot nest, sliding deep inside her. Scarlet writhed underneath him, stretching her hands overhead, her nipples like two hard bolts on her creamy bosom, gently rocking with his easy thrusts now. He said, “No fucking idea, Scarlet—you are insane.”

“I’m so crazy,” she agreed in a feathery and breathless tone.

“Oh my God,” he said, “just look at you,” seeing her in a whole new way, seeing her beautiful features as sharp angles, sly painted lines drawing the picture of a complicated woman with devious sexuality and a penchant for torment. “One thing’s for sure,” he said, thrusting deep and holding, watching his wife’s mouth open as her back arched. He stroked his hand up the center of her chest and caressed her neck, thumbing her jaw and chin and admiring her.

She collapsed to the bed again and he was pretty darn sure she just had an orgasm. Maybe the first of many to come. With her body loosened, she gasped “What is it?”

“I want you to do what you want.”

“What do I want?” she whispered, and there came that sly-angled smile.

It thrilled his heart in a frightening way. “I’m gonna get you into a bathroom with Philippe. You’re going to try to stuff that enormous flesh burrito he’s got in to a toilet paper roll, and you’re going to tell me all about it.”