SUMMER SWAP 2 // Chapter 16

Cheyenne sucked in her stomach and her lips, her teeth clamping down. Her hands went behind her, onto the mattress, her eyes on Cody’s. The brightest fire burning inside her mind now was the one rising to Cody’s challenge: she wanted Cody to know how wet she was. Wanted him to be pleased with the flux he provoked. And it wasn’t just him. It was Byron watching; it was Sully watching; it was Scarlet at her side. This wasn’t about her being in charge or her running the show. She wanted to be the star of the movie, but the production required an astounding director to bring out the best performance she could muster. She needed an idea man, someone who would write her scenes for her.

The idea Scarlet would touch between her legs was not something Cheyenne would ever ask for or ever want. But Cody was her idea man, and she would do what he requested. Whatever it was. It would be up to Scarlet to object. Cheyenne would submit to Cody’s dirty, dominant mind. She would lie spread eagle for him and let him do whatever he wanted to her defenseless body. And it was so much better with Byron watching. She was blameless: none of this was her idea, and besides, she wasn’t who she was. She was Miss Susan; once a chaperone parent, now apparently a prospective 1800s brothel woman. Ultimately, a play actor in Cody’s imaginative show.

And with that, chewing lips and sucking in her tummy, she parted her legs wider for Cody, tilting down her chin and looking up at him from under her brows, daring him to do whatever he wanted.

* * *

Even from Scarlet’s profile Sully could detect the sudden look of horror on his wife’s face. And that look excited him. Scarlet was a tough cookie, and to see her arranged and organized by a man he was sure his wife never thought she’d obey was crazy erotic.

Touch Cheyenne’s pussy? Check to see how wet she was?

The sheer audacity—the wild, masculine arrogance—to even ask such a thing of Scarlet. It was astounding.

And Sully, more than anything, wanted Scarlet to check Cheyenne’s pussy. The pleasure it would bring him had so many facets: There was the crude thrill he figured most dudes got when watching two women mess around; there was a strong sense that Cheyenne wanted all of this and was getting off on it; it fascinated him to watch Cody make the girls dance for him; Byron’s stare showed that Cheyenne’s husband enjoyed the terrifying act she performed; but most surprising was Cody’s chiseling away of Scarlet’s stony ramparts, his ability to pull down her barbed wire, crumble her barbicans, show Sully a side of his own wife that surprised the shit out of him. And he liked the surprise. Scarlet inspired confidence in him. She was strong and smart, and the stark exposure of the wife he knew against the wife he watched right now powered a fast-moving hurricane of desire for her.

Scarlet’s face turned in a slow, hypnotized arc toward him until their eyes met. She looked to her husband for counsel. He blinked stunned, rapid winks, the simple act of his wife regarding him during this wild show, seeking his guidance or permission—or even just to share a look of comical reproach—tickled a dancing feather up the inside of his ribcage, sending his heart fluttering with bright love for his wife.

* * *

The thing Scarlet wanted most from Sully was a decisive opposition to Cody’s request. She wanted her husband to forbid the act, to decide for her, to remove her agency in a bold, masculine swoop. Then Cody couldn’t blame her for wrecking the scene.

But was Cody’s perception of her what was important? Why would she care at all? If she didn’t want to do it, she didn’t have to do it. No man was going to make her do something she didn’t want to do.

And, damn it, that was why she was putting this on Cody and on Sully. She didn’t want to face the fact that she was okay with it—okay with putting her hand down Cheyenne’s bikini bottoms. It was an uncomfortable realization. She didn’t want to touch Cheyenne down there. She wanted to pursue the scene, see where it might go. Cheyenne was a beautiful actress in this live sex-show on a multi-million dollar yacht in the Caribbean. When else would something like this be okay?

So she stared at Sully—now hoping he didn’t change his mind and put his stupid foot down and forbid her from having fun tormenting her friend. And Sully just stared in return, eyes wide and amused, his gaze like electric static crackling between them. He wanted her to do it.

When Scarlet’s hand touched Cheyenne’s bare hipbone, Chey gasped and jolted, and sucked her tummy in even tighter, her rib cage pushing taut against her flawless, tanned skin. Scarlet watched Cheyenne’s profile as her jaw slackened and fell, her lips parting in anticipation of what would be the most libertine act that could occur between two girlfriends. They’d been close at school, had seen each other naked—one time even skinny-dipping with some football players on spring break, but that was in the total dark and no one saw a thing—and were comfortable with each other, even being close and hugging and snuggling, too, watching late-night movies together. But this was miles removed from any schoolgirl closeness. Neither of them had ever had a same-sex experience (none that Chey had ever admitted to, and Scarlet could only vouch for herself here), and for it to happen now, in their late-twenties, and for it to be this unexpected way, was explosive.

Chey’s skin was hot and smooth under the pads of her fingers. As her fingertips stroked across Chey’s skin, skirting Chey’s bikini waistband, Cheyenne’s stomach fluttered. She could feel her friend’s tummy trembling under her touch. It got her snuffling laughter. There was a fun cruelty in tormenting Cheyenne this way, knowing Chey was submitting to them, offering her sexuality for them to feast on. No, not them, only Cody. But Scarlet would partake. She would play along with this game for Cheyenne’s benefit—and also the bug-eyed psycho she married, sitting a dozen feet away with his rock-hard cock in his hand, going out of his mind watching his wife doing something so unbelievable. There were a lot of benefits to this, and it made her feel powerful. She liked it. Liked the sexual authority burbling inside her.

Now her fingertips slipped beneath the edge of Cheyenne’s bikini waist, left of center, easing down where Cheyenne’s skin was even hotter. Chey’s breaths came in stertorous gasps, her wet lips parted.

Scarlet leaned her head to the side, making eye contact with Sully. She licked her lower lip, saying to Cody, “I bet she’s trickling like a mountain stream.” Sully looked faint for a moment, like his wife was so hot he might pass out. She smiled wide for him, narrowing her eyes and still biting her lower lip.

Cody touched Cheyenne’s chin and said in his cowboy drawl, “I think this pretty one gets a real fever. She suffers. You can see it in her eyes. She goes in heat, I bet she rides the bed post.” He rose to stand tall before Chey and then held his cock and teased Cheyenne’s lips with the meaty end, the swollen head flared and ready for action. Cheyenne ran her tongue out and Cody eased the supple head back and forth across the wet velvet of Chey’s pink tongue. And Scarlet was almost side by side with Chey, Cody’s beautiful cock pointing at her as much as at Chey, his long, lean and muscular body towering above them both.

It distracted Scarlet, and when her fingertips parted through Cheyenne’s pubic scruff and sunk into the soft slick of her sexual aperture, she gasped. Chey gasped, too, her chin jutting forward, her eyes closing, lost in wanton lust as her best friend touched her pussy. The feel was familiar, yet different. Chey’s pussy felt unlike her own. Her fingers were only used to her own folds. Chey’s were different, leaner, but still succulent. And, god, Chey overflowed. Her pussy felt like a microwaved peach, hot and ruined and soggy.

“Oh my god, Chey,” Scarlet said, out of character, and an honest and shocked appraisal of her best friend’s sopping pussy.

Sully had his hand clamped over his mouth, and his eyes were seconds away from popping right out of his head. Cody regarded her with speculation, waiting for the verdict.

Scarlet said, “She’s so well-greased I bet we could slide anything inside her.” While she said it, she watched Cheyenne, enjoying helping her friend live out some crazy fantasy she’d trusted her enough to reveal. It made her feel connected to Chey, and it also somehow removed the sexuality from what she did. While it was a new revelation to feel what another vagina felt like, the feeling wasn’t sexual to Scarlet. She wasn’t getting off on touching Chey. No, the act delivered to her a whole different level of sexual satisfaction, one that had nothing to do with physical pleasure, but one that had to do with dominance.

Cody said, “Take those undies off her and let’s get a look at what she’s got down there.”

Scarlet withdrew her fingers from teasing Cheyenne’s pussy and brought her shining fingers to work the knot out of the side-ties on Chey’s bikini bottoms. Chey’s breaths came quicker now, and her nipples looked like they might burst; they were like succulent cherry pits, stretched out, the areoles tight and dimpled. When she got the ties undone, she flag the dangling cords forward, the front flap of Cheyenne’s bikini bottoms falling forward. Cheyenne was on fire; she trembled, her eyes locked on Cody, breaths coming quick and short.

Cody said, “Lay back, Miss Susan, let us get a look at your heat.”

“Jeez Louise,” Scarlet whispered, rubbing the back of her neck. Cody was an excellent dirty-talker. He said everything Cheyenne wanted to hear, his words so dirty the ricochets were pinging off Scarlet, and even though her kink looked nothing like Chey’s, the pinpoint accuracy she figured Cody was tapping Chey’s targets with was smoking hot. It got her motor running, and she did not want to be inspected. But Chey leaned back on her elbows, her breasts falling to the sides, drawing her feet up onto the mattress, then letting her legs open so Cody could get a good look at her pussy. Cody cocked his head one way, then the other, admiring what Chey had between her thighs. Scarlet looked almost directly down now on her good sorority buddy, naked, legs open. Scarlet refrained from looking between Cheyenne’s legs—even though this was Chey’s kink, it felt like a violation somehow.

But something occurred to Scarlet, and she acted on it, looking up to Sully and saying, “Come, take a look, tell us if you like what you see.”

Her husband looked stunned and disbelieving. Like this was a trap. After all, what kind of wife asks her husband to come and look at her friend’s pussy? But Chey wasn’t Chey, and Scarlet wasn’t Scarlet. Not at this moment. So, her Sully was just some lucky cattle man riding the right stagecoach.

Sully sat up, still unsure, pulling up the front of his swim trunks and covering his erection. But he was hard as steel, the tip of his cock poking up the waistband at one side. She bit her lips against laughter and waved him to come closer.

Cody made way, shifting to the side, enjoining Sully, saying, “Come on, pardner, shuffle in for a look-see.”

Sully side-stepped to the foot of the bed, wild-eyed and electric, breathing fast and cheek-blushed. He looked first to the side, over toward Byron—Scarlet didn’t follow his gaze, only watched Sully. And her husband’s eyes returned to Cheyenne, who lay on the bed with her knees up, feet on the mattress, naked like the days he was born, all tanned skin and toned, tomboy arms and legs. The thatch of sparse pubic hair that covered Chey’s pussy sparkled with droplets of her copious dew.

Scarlet nodded her chin to Sully’s swim trunks. “Don’t be shy, cowboy. Take that pecker out. We’re going to try putting things inside this horny little lady, see what she likes. The more cocks, the better—let’s see what you got.”