SUMMER SWAP 2 // Chapter 14

This was what she wanted. This was everything Cheyenne had wanted her husband to watch. It all had tumbled into place somehow, Byron sitting in her periphery where she could still see him, taking this crazy, dirty spectacle in. And Cody, her now sometime lover, totally knowing how to set the scene, disarming her, but more: disarming Byron. Nothing here would intimidate Byron. Her husband had mustered everything he needed to get his butt into that chair and she could tell Cody would do what was necessary to stop him from running away.

Cody was gorgeous. The white towel was made whiter by the tan on his skin; his lean waist flared wide to his hard chest; the prominent hump of his perfect cock evident under the terry fabric. She held her breath and admired him in awe, then bit her lower lip, meeting Cody’s gaze. He smiled—looking like absolute male perfection—his narrowed eyes blazing at her, with his icy cool blues hidden under the brim of his straw cowboy hat. When she spoke, her voice was a soft, girlish sound she hadn’t heard since high school. “Where did you get the hat?”

“This hat?” he said, putting on the drawl, running a finger along one edge of the curled brim. “Rode into town today, thought I’d treat myself. You like it?”

Cody emerged from the bathroom, sauntering into the bedroom, about ten feet of space between her knees and his naked body hidden behind that towel.

She said, “I like it.”

“I thought you might,” he said, coming closer, pausing an arm’s length away. He tipped up the brim of the hat with a knuckle and said, “See you brought some friends.”

She bit her lower lip again shrugged, her eyes stuck on his beautiful body. “They were just on the stagecoach with me.”

Cody laughed in his own voice, then corrected himself. “Well, I’m sure glad I ran into you again. Been thinking about you all day.”

Though he’d mentioned “her friends,” he’d only glanced toward Scarlet and Sully, and she guessed he figured Byron would want to be excluded, compartmentalized away from their act. A man watching a movie where his wife was the star and everything he watched her do happened on a screen. Her husband’s eyes were wide, soaking it all in. She said, “I was thinking about you, too.”

“Sure like to hear it,” Cody said, lowering the hat brim then folding his arms. “Thought you might. Hoped you might.”

“I was,” she said.

“Seems you caught me coming out of my bath.”

Cheyenne said, “It gets dusty on those trails.”

“Sure does,” Cody said, “and I wouldn’t want that horse smell on me, case I ran into a pretty lady like you.”

“Just like me?”

“There’s only you,” Cody said, leaning close to touch her chin with the point of his index finger. Cheyenne shivered, then giggled.

* * *

Holy shit. The excitement was about to burst his capillaries. Byron could barely hear what they were saying over the thunderous boom-boom-boom in his eardrums. Cheyenne was the hands-down hottest thing he had ever seen. This was his wife playacting. This was his wife being a silly little girl, being coy and coquettish, sexy and sultry, and yet innocent, all at the same time. It was something he would never see in his life if he wasn’t sitting here watching her with Cody.

He could barely find a comfortable position. Every muscle in his body had the jimmies, that jumpy feeling like when he was trying to fall asleep and his legs wanted to start running around the room. He shifted and flexed, curling his toes, arching his back. His whole body was alive under the skin’s surface, like a billion ants doing a billion things. And he loved it. Yeah, he hated it, but dammit, he loved it twice as much. It was a gift to see Cheyenne this way. It was a gift to see his wife induced to a behavior he would never have provoked. The love they had, and the sex-life they shared, was entirely different than what Chey got from Cody. It wasn’t something she would even want from him. This was totally something else. She loved it, and he definitely loved her having it. About that he was adamant. He might suffer a little, under all the pleasure he felt, all the excitement, but it was worth it.

Now he watched as Cheyenne’s eyes lowered from Cody’s, down his shower-wet body, over the bunched-up muscles, the tanned skin, going to the bright white towel and settling on the ridiculous hump thereunder. Byron cupped a hand over his mouth and chin, his sweaty upper lip slipping along the inside of his index finger. He could feel his hot, wet breaths against his palm as he waited to see what his beautiful Cheyenne would do next.

* * *

Was that really Cody’s cock under there? With the fake cowboy hat, like a costume, Sully couldn’t help wondering if Cody had put like a pepper mill or something under the towel for comedic effect. The Texas drawl, the straw he’d bought at some Caribbean gift shop, the ridiculous length of his supposed cock under the towel... Sully had never anticipated a show like this.

Cheyenne was regarding the bulge now, and Sully watched as his wife’s best friend’s—a woman he knew very well—put her palms on the towel, one on each of Cody’s thighs. Her wedding ring and diamond winked in the low light coming from the table lamps. If the thing under the towel was real, now he got why Cheyenne had made all those noises for hours and hours the other night. And he and Scarlet had wondered what the heck Byron was doing to her.

Cheyenne rubbed two fingers below the penis-bulge and looked up to Cody. “What were you doing in the bath?”

“I was thinking about you,” Cody said.

The guy was smooth. Sully figured he should be taking notes here. But then again, Cody had a lot more going for him, too, and Sully was smooth in his own way.

He shifted where he sat, and Scarlet cuddled closer to him. A resentful part of his brain said, “She’s doing that so you won’t stop her from watching—your wife wants to take a peek under Cody’s towel.” But so what if she did? Of course she did. If it was Carla here, he wouldn’t mind taking a peek, either. And it didn’t change a single thing about how he felt for Scarlet. And here was the thing: he was sitting here cuddled up with his wife, two people separate from this debacle, both of them watching this like it was a porno. Scarlet wasn’t into porno, but she watched a couple things with him and didn’t object. But this was a real live sex show. “Jesus,” he said, squirming around again.

Scarlet chuckled and whispered to him, “Are you tgoing to be able to handle this?”

“I feel like I want to jump out of my skin. Are you going to be able to watch this?”

“I know where the exit is,” she said, then settled in again.

Sully became acutely aware of his wife’s respiration. She was breathing heavy. The show was turning her on. His wife was getting turned on by something so lubricious. It threw his pulse into overdrive. His heart began galloping, his palms went sweaty. This was the wildest thing they had ever done. They were doing it together. It was a gift. For sure.

Sully watched now as Cheyenne’s hand got bolder, the one running along just underneath the bulge now cupping mid-shaft over the hump.

Cody said, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Good thing we ran into each other. You all alone in that bath.”

“We’re together now,” Cody said, reached down, first knocking back his cowboy hat again then kissing Cheyenne’s forehead.

Chey said, “Thank goodness for that snowstorm.”

Sully whispered, “What snowstorm?”

Scarlet couldn’t take her eyes away, just whispering out the side of her mouth, “I have no idea.”

* * *

Cheyenne ran her hand down to the towel-skirt’s hem, just above Cody’s knee. She slipped it underneath, and Scarlet’s eyebrows rose high, watching the hump of Cheyenne’s little hand crawl up Cody’s leg then wrap around his cock. They were quiet, Cheyenne and Cody, looking at each other, smiling, eyes glistening. Scarlet’s heart thundered. Cheyenne was putting on a show. Cody was putting on a show. Two top-notch performers, Cheyenne feeding off of Cody. Chey couldn’t do it on her own. She needed to be a subject. Cody was the kind of man who took the lead.

Cheyenne levered Cody’s cock downward, aimed for the opening in the towel wrap. Scarlet braced herself, thinking this might be where her husband told her it was time to get going, hustle her out of the room just when things were getting really good. But Sully said nothing as Cheyenne brought Cody’s cock out into the light, the stiff, fleshy meat-pole sticking out like a crane arm. It was real. It was real and it was glorious—she’d seen it before, but never like this, not erect—a perfectly balanced, perfectly shaped hard cock. The flared head in full, swollen proportion with the girth of the shaft, the coloration even, the skin smooth, only the trace of thick veins underneath the unblemished skin. She bit her lips to stop herself from exclaiming something that would bother Sully, but watched now as her best friend and sorority sister—a married woman—ran her tongue underneath their friend’s cock and slipped it into her mouth, the thing stretching the ring of Cheyenne’s lips to a thin wet ring, all while her husband watched.

Beyond Cheyenne, Scarlet could see Byron now, Byron watching his own wife suck another man’s big cock. Byron undeterred, his mouth not hanging open, but his jaw slack and his cheeks hollow. His eyes were wide, the pupils large, his gaze fixated on the thing his wife was doing. Cheyenne got what she wanted, and Byron looked pleased despite the mild horror that drew his features long.

It was unbelievable. Scarlet fidgeted in her chair, snuggling up to Sully. Meanwhile, Cheyenne sucked Cody’s cock, her head rocking back-and-forth, her chin drawn down, her head like a piston, rolling in a circular motion, going up and down, the sounds of wet suction. Cheyenne stroked Cody’s shaft; her other hand cupped his large balls. Cody’s stomach muscles moved in and out, and he began to untie the towel, letting it fall to the floor around his ankles, feet placed shoulders-width apart. Buck naked, the man was an Adonis. All long legs with straps of swooping thigh muscles, a hard, round ass, muscles at his hip and up his belly, thick arms and powerful hands.

And he lay those hands now on Cheyenne’s head, not guiding or forcing her to do anything, just riding along in her circular locomotion. Cheyenne had told her how much she wanted to do this, and it was evident in the effort she showed. She wanted to suck his cock, and Scarlet got it: she’d become fixated on Philippe’s oversized organ. Wanted to play with it. Had teased her husband with dirty talk of doing the exact same thing. And here was Sully next to her right now, getting into what they were watching, playing along, not running for the hills or starting a jealous fight.

She gasped from sudden, pure ecstasy. Her left hand touched her husband’s chest, rode down his trim stomach and slipped underneath the front of his swim trunks. Sully was rock hard. And when she gave his thing a squeeze, he jolted and spewed a stream of slippery lubricant that she used to stroke his shaft. He shuddered, and she bit his chest.

“This is fucking crazy,” she whispered to him.

“I can even believe it,” he said.