SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 31

There were better ways to phrase it, but in the dire moment of her confession, it was the plainest way she could administer the truth. The look on Byron’s face told her right away that she’d made the wrong choice. Why say this to Byron here? Why say this in the middle of the living area, and not sequestered like a jury in some secret location?

“Not like that, Byron,” she said, clutching his shirt sleeve and preventing him from leaving. He’d half-turned, disgusted and wounded, looking to get up and abandon her.

Byron was undeterred by her light pinch on his cotton and rose, anyway. She grabbed his arm and clutched it to her chest, weighing him down. “Stop, Byron, stop,” she said, not shrill, not excited, but adamant.

Byron pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to look at her, his posture pulled to one side as she pulled him down to the couch with her bodyweight. “What the fuck, Chey? Seriously, this has got to be a fucking joke. Let go of my arm.”

“No, Byron,” she said, “let me talk. If you leave, you’re going to go off and make up crazy stories in your head.”

“You’re putting the stories there, Chey,” he said, voice rising with anger. “You fucked Cody and Philippe. What more is there for me to make up?”

“Stop, I didn’t do that. Sit down and let me tell you.”

Byron’s head turned and looked down. “Didn’t what?”

“Not both of them.”

“You didn’t fuck Philippe?”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes around. “Please let me explain, okay?”

Byron tugged away his arm, eyes narrow and fierce, his cute mouth slimmed to a firm line. But at least he dropped to the couch again—but prowling close to her, eyes on hers. “Did you fuck Philippe or not?”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t.”

Byron’s anger still shone in his eyes. “Did you suck his cock?”

“No. Can I explain? I know you want to storm off right now and punish me. I’d feel the same way, too. It would feel so good, Byron. I agree with you. But if you stay, I will tell you all the truth. All of it. If you’re ready to hear it or not, I need to tell you the truth.”

“You’re going to tell me the truth as a way so we can do this again. There is no fucking way we’re doing this again. If Philippe was there with you, this is over.”

When her jaw trembled, Byron saw a hideous other meaning in his statement and said, “This swinging thing is over. Not you and me. I don’t mean that.”

The silence was thick and unsettling, the weight of Byron’s words left all the emotional ugliness of swinging hanging in the air like a rotten stench.

“I have to tell you the truth, Byron. I hate what happened—and don’t start by saying how I just said we should try again—I hate it, but I never saw it coming.”

“Saw what coming?”

“The way things could escalate. The way my brain would react to doing something so wild and dirty and so . . . taboo.”

“What did you expect, Chey?”

“What did you expect, Byron? Not to challenge you, but, come on, did you think you would go in with Carla and end up watching Friends?”

“No. It’s not like that, I—”

“In my head I thought you would swap place with Cody for an hour, and it would be simple: I’d get in bed with Cody and we’d do our thing and then we’d sneak the couples back together the way they were meant to be. But it didn’t turn out like that. I was nervous and—”

“You think I wasn’t nervous?”

“I know you were, baby.” Byron winced and showed disgust that she would use a pet name for him right now when he was hurting and mad, but at least he didn’t say anything. He folded his arms and tightened his mouth again. “Hey, did you ever think maybe Carla failed you?”

Without looking, he muttered, “How do you mean?”

“Cody took control. I didn’t have to lead. He asked me what I liked but I couldn’t really answer, and the next thing he’s working with me, and when I didn’t know what I wanted before, with a little provocation, I was able to tell him what I wanted.”

Byron shook his head, narrowed his eyes, and chewed his cheek. “What was it you wanted?”

“I guess detachment.”

He looked her way, frowning—probably expecting a dirtier, lewder answer. “What?”

“I didn’t want to be in the moment. I didn’t want to be having sex with Cody in our room. I wanted something else, and Cody was game enough to play it out with me.”

Byron’s expression was hard to decipher. He was hurt, still mad too, but a wondrous bright had opened his eyes, and there was a brief twinge of lust in there. This game they’d played last night had opened their horizons more than she ever could have anticipated—and despite Byron’s arm-folding ramparts, she knew his heart beat faster with her re-telling of what she’d done with Cody. But she had to explain it right.

She said, “I didn’t want to be with Cody. And I didn’t want to be me. We started pretending to be other people and in just a few seconds, the whole scenario wasn’t me and Cody. It was some horny Midwest housewife away from home, meeting a strange cowboy in her hotel room for a quickie.”

Byron’s eyes stayed steady on hers, blinking and considering, and most importantly, easing the hard, judgmental edge, soothing his brow to somewhere nearer to understanding. She smirked a little, some provocative lightness, trying to lure her wonderful husband’s nicer side to the surface. “I was the housewife, in case you were wondering.” Her posture sagged, and her smirk grew wider. The lines in Byron’s brow eased, and she saw a conciliatory quirk to the corner of his tight mouth. Almost a smile.

Now she eased her feet underneath her, getting comfortable and leaning her side on the couch’s seat back. Her hands smoothed the points of her knees and Byron watched her, waiting. “That really worked for me, Byron. It worked because I wasn’t Cheyenne Bishop who has a husband she loves. I got to be someone else. It wasn’t me at all. And the guy I was with? It wasn’t Cody.”

“But you wanted to be with Cody. He was your choice.”

“I know. But it wasn’t Cody Weber who is married to Carla and we’ve known for like eight years. He wasn’t that guy. He was, like, a complicated and elaborate sex toy. That’s why Sully says I made so much noise.” She rolled her eyes, rubbed her knees. “It wasn’t Cody doing it, it was me. My brain. Getting this weird fantasy delivered, and I didn’t even know I wanted it. Once it was keyed in, Byron, I swear, I wasn’t even me.”

Byron nodded. How could he not like what she’d just told him? What it amounted to was Cody wasn’t the real attraction of the night. It was her own brain. But something still curdled in Byron’s stomach. It was easy to see on his face. And that’s where the story got trickier. Philippe’s arrival was an astounding complication, and one that would be hard to vindicate.

She said, “Remember when you texted us?”

Byron’s brow lowered, and he shook his head.

“You don’t remember?”

He faced her, and she was glad to see the anger gone. Her husband was still bristling, arms still folded, but he was open and listening. “I didn’t text. Carla did.”

“Oh,” she said, puzzled. “I thought it was you and Cody talking.”

“No. It was Carla. I made her text you guys. She didn’t want to, but I was persistent.”

“Oh okay, whew,” she said. “So it was you.”

“Yeah. Through Carla. Carla said you were sucking Cody’s cock and did I want to see a picture.”

A heat crossed her cheeks and a topsy-turvy wave of embarrassment passed through her stomach. She patted her cheeks and couldn’t meet Byron’s eyes. Her cheeks had blushed. She could feel the heat on her fingertips. And the more aware she became, the more the heat blazed. She whispered, “Well, that was how it got crazy. I said no way, but I couldn’t stop thinking of the idea. How much I wanted to show you.”

* * *

Cody curled her up in his lap, her ribs draped over one of his folded-up legs. His cock was in her mouth and it felt so good there. The smooth expanse of his swollen glans slipped across her tongue. And when he’d flex his stomach every once in a while as he shifted, he’d pulse pre-cum in her mouth. The slippery feel of her blow job was turning her on. She couldn’t wait for this well-hung cowboy to blow his load into her dirty whore mouth. But as she suckled, laying in his lap, his hand had gained access to her core. He teased her opening, played with her, found the plump stone of her clitoris in her hot, slick pussy flesh and worked it until bright pleasure orbs danced in her vision. He fingered her. One finger for a while, then two. Then three. Curling them, running the pads in stroking circles against her frontmost wall. She was gasping around his thick cock. Laying it on her cheek, eyes closed, mouth hanging open as Cody encouraged a few shivering orgasms from her that way.

While she’d sucked his cock, she’d pretended Byron was in the room. She pretended he was sitting on the two seat couch right by the bedside. She was still the housewife, and Byron was that woman’s husband. Not the Byron she knew, because she wasn’t Cheyenne, she was Susan, or at least some woman this hot cowboy thought was named Susan. She’d performed a lewd, sloppy blowjob, testing it out in her mind what Byron would see. Imagining Byron watching her pink tongue bathe another man’s big hard shaft, run the tip around the swell of his coronal ridge, drink up the man’s shining lubrication as it pulsed from the tip. The idea turned her on like nothing ever before. Those lusty snakes in her belly came alive. A slimy nest of shining anfractuous snakes coming to life, writhing and squirming.

The fingering brought her out of that fantasy performance—she didn’t think Byron would enjoy watching her get fingered. But Cody had sexual power over her, and she was willing to see where he would take her. So far tonight, everything he’d done had blown her top. She’d said do whatever you want. Treat me like a sex toy. And Cody had. He’d pounded her in all sorts of awkward positions. No man had ever held her in his arms and stood fucking her with her knees draped over his forearms. So when Cody encouraged her onto her back, she let him. She sprawled out again, with his hands between her legs, fucking her slowly with three bunched fingers, the muscles in his shoulder flexing and twitching. He suckled her nipples, and she came again.

But then Cody was up, standing by the bedside, tearing open the last of his condoms. She rolled to her side, vision foggy from the orgasm, a whooshing sound still in her ears. She watched him stretch the condom down his cock, the skin shining from her saliva. He spoke while he did, talking in a detached way the cowboy would talk to Susan. The game was back on and she was ready for a lot more. He said, “I’m going to come in your mouth, Susan. Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna empty these big balls on your tongue. But your pussy’s too wet for me to ignore. That pussy is begging for cock right now.”

She nodded, watched as he picked his phone up from the pillows and typed out a string of words and tossed it back. Now he stood above her, hands on hips, masculine gaze studying her. “Hey, Susan, work that body around til you can show me that puss.”

She complied, moving her limbs in languid seductive strokes, arranging herself before him, legs open and knees bent over the mattress edge, Cody standing where he could fuck her. He studied her pussy, and she had to close her eyes and hold her breath. The way he looked at her exposed this way excited a renewed gallop in her heartbeat.

“Gimme a good look-see, darling,” he said, low and grumbling, playing up his Texas accent. “Spread those pretty pink petals for me.”

“Oh god,” she gasped, the sheer depravity of this night hadn’t even been reached. She’d already been driven wilder that in her entire life and now Cody just found sixth gear and pressed the accelerator.

Her fingers pinched her delicate flesh and tugged them aside to show Cody her opening. The flesh was slippery, so she had to regain them a few times. Cody’s eyes between her thighs as she exposed herself in this kinky inspection got her hands trembling. Her flesh grew harder to hold and her breaths came quicker. She was going to come just by Cody commanding her to show him her pussy.

Cody eased closer, took his cock in hand and batted her opened pussy. The heaviness of his manhood squashed against her clit in muffled shocks of electric pleasure. He had her moaning, and soon surrendering. Letting go of her petals and stretching her arms overhead, letting him spear her with his perfect cock. He fucked her in shallow strokes, getting her breasts to roll in circles on her chest. Then he fucked her deeper. He made her come.

A soft knocking on the door got her eyes fluttering. Cody smiled. He said, “Now, you can say no, darlin’, but I got another handsome hombre running with me on the rodeo circuit. He’s staying with me in the hotel. This is a good-looking boy—you’re gonna like him. He’s just your type. Now this boy’s been on a dry spell and I know he’s got the hots for you. He ain’t gonna touch you, darlin,’ I swear it. He just wants to sit and watch it go in and out of you. It’d be real swell of you to let this boy sit and take a look. It’ll make his day. What do you say?”

She chuckled and smiled. Byron. When Cody said they should take a picture, she said no way. But then, every second after that, she was thinking how hot it would be. Thinking what if Byron was watching me do this with my tongue, what if he saw Cody’s cock head stick my cheek out? And it turned her on like crazy.

Still laying on the bed, knees over the edge, legs open, sexual wet smearing her inner thighs, her pussy, all the way to her belly button and the knobs of her hipbones, she waved Cody to come closer. He got over top of her, smiling that confident smile. She put her arms around him, smoothing his hard, muscular body. One hand swooped between his legs, cradled his heavy balls, stroked his shaft, then guided him to enter her. She kissed his mouth, bit his lower lip, then whispered in his ear. “Tell your cowboy friend to get in here.”