Summer Swap 6-1 (Patreon)

Cheyenne led the way down the steps from the outdoor dining room, through the narrow passage that brought them into the third level lounge, across from the main kitchen. No one was up yet, and the kitchen was dark and silent. They passed it by and went to the first door on the right, their own private suite. She walked in, pivoted and sat down on the edge of the bed, arms folded, crossing one leg over the other. Closed off.

He stood there saying nothing in his blanket shroud, naked underneath. The way Cheyenne sat suddenly struck him it was like he’d been caught by the matron at that faraway boarding school. Cheyenne dressed, sitting with shielded posture, face stoic, neck held at an administrative angle. His scrotum squirmed and shrank.

He cleared his throat and said, “Can I get dressed first? Before we talk.”

Chey nodded, then slumped a little, putting her head forward into her palms, then smoothing back her hair. And when she’d finished this, she sat back, more open, legs crossed still, but her hands out behind her, supporting her weight. It was a hopeful sign.

He rummaged through the drawers and found shorts and a t-shirt, slipped the shorts on under the protective shielding of the blanket, then tossed it away and stretched his arms into the t-shirt. On top of feeling like a caught schoolboy up to no good, he suffered the added weight of a scandalous husband not honoring his marriage’s fidelity. It was crazy because all of it had been pre-arranged, and yet he couldn’t help avoid the aching twinges of guilt that pulsed in his heart.

He’d betrayed her.

He hadn’t, but he felt like he had.

Now he was dressed and standing before his wife, feeling like he should apologize.

But apologize for what?

He said, “How long were you sitting there at the table?”

She said, “Are you worried about what I saw?”

What did she see?

She’d watched him wake with Carla and share some pillow talk, and nothing sweet like Rock Hudson and Doris Day, because he was naked and he was married to another woman.

What had she overheard? Truly— how long had she been watching?

Instead of answering Chey’s question, he said, “Why were you watching?” A much better question. Why was all of this on him? Why was it always on him?

Chey shrugged one shoulder and looked away, saying to the other side of the room, “I had to beat myself up, I guess.”

“Beat yourself up?”

“A taste of my own medicine.” Now her head slowly oscillated until she faced him. He saw hurt in his wife’s eyes, could tell she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her eyes gleamed like they were wet with tears.

This wasn’t a fight. Everything that had happened with him and Carla had taught him to believe that this moment with Cheyenne would be a fight. But it wasn’t.

He went to her, scooting to her side, sitting, both of them facing the suite’s closed door. The window to the Caribbean behind them lit half Cheyenne’s face in dawning gold. She said, “It wasn’t easy.”

“You didn’t have to watch.”

“Yeah, I had to,” she said.

He asked again, “How long were you there?”

“A long time,” she said.

Had she watched them sleep? Had she been there before they slept? He wanted to know, but didn’t want to ask.

She said, “I spent some time with Cody last night...”

Oh, no, here it was. No, this wasn’t a fight. It was a surrender. Cheyenne wanted to surrender their marriage to Cody, Cody sitting on a throne, Chey supplicated before his tanned feet in beach flip-flops, worshipping his big upright cock like a totem with special spiritual powers.

“Chey...”

“Not like that,” she said, cocking her head and frowning. “Sully and Scarlet were there, too. I wasn’t alone with Cody.”

“You weren’t?”

“Last night was special for you, Byron. I wouldn’t wreck it.” She lowered her eyes.

It surprised him. Given her demeanor this morning, he’d expected bad things, but this seemed like a good thing.

But then she said, “Truth was I wanted to .”

“Oh.”

She looked up again. “But I wouldn’t. And... I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t? What does that mean?”

“Like you with Carla. When I was with Cody that first night—

“All I could think about was you,” he said, knowing where she was going with this.

“I was distracted,” she said. “I was in bed with Sully and Scarlet—”

“In bed with them?”

“Well, I mean, talking. We all had our clothes on— Uh, no... Scarlet didn’t.”

“What happened?’ he said, voice rising comically. “What did I miss?”

Chey clucked her tongue and waved her hand like she wanted to change the subject. “You didn’t miss anything. It wasn’t like that. I think I interrupted Sully and Scarlet, and then Scarlet sent Sully to get Cody”—Byron’s frown deepened—“and then Cody came.”

“Into the bed? You were all in bed together?”

“We were wearing clothes, Byron.”

“But Scarlet wasn’t.”

“That’s Scarlet. We’re not talking about her. Listen to what I’m telling you... I needed comfort because I felt like giving you to Carla had been a big, big mistake. But then I realized thinking that way was a weakness. A weakness in my character; some weak part of me yelling out for all the attention. . . . You don’t have that weak part with the big loud mouth like I do.”

He chanced touching her now, putting out his right hand to cover her left, resting over top of it on the mattress. She didn’t smile, but she also let it stay there; liked it there.

“I do have that part, Chey,” he said, wanting to be honest.

“You didn’t listen to it.”

“Nobody was going to listen to it, that much I knew.”

“You mean me, I wasn’t listening?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that. That would be me trying to blame everything on you. And besides, what’s there to blame? Everything is working out.”

“You think it’s working out?”

He couldn’t read if she was serious or comical or angry. He said, “Isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Anyway, that big loud part of me was pretty mean to you, and last night I tried getting in touch with whatever it is you’ve got. Whatever it is inside you that makes you so...” Her eyes rolled up.

“Magnanimous?”

“What does that mean?”

“ I don’t know, like giving, generous...”

“Fucking get me a dictionary,” she said, rolling her eyes around and laughing.

He squeezed her hand.

“Magnanimous,” she said. “But more happened last night than just me talking with Cody.”

“Like what?”

“Cody said things to me that made me think... Think about us. You and me.”

* * *

Scarlet’s eyes fluttered open to the incoming sunlight, revealing she was eye-to-eye—two eyes to one—with a fleshy viper, its cobra cowl flared, its body rigid, resting on her forearm and looking like it was ready to strike. She hoped it wasn’t venomous. Was it the thing that had chimed yet again, rousing her from a wonderful warm sleep?

Awareness flooded in the ensuing seconds. Sully hugged her back, spooning her from behind. Her head lay on Cody’s muscular chest, her arm hugging his trim midsection. It was his enormous and breathtaking erection stretched over the soft pad of her forearm just below the elbow. The snake head hovering a few inches from the bridge of her nose was only his corpulent cock head. Cody’s perfect penis had no fangs, nor venom.

When she tried to speak, her lips had stuck together and she flubbed her line, having to open her mouth and waggle her jaw before she tried it again. “Whose fucking phone is that?” The chiming that woke her.

Sully grunted in his throat, then mumbled, “Yours.” It sounded like his lips had stuck together too.

She said, “Unh-uh. Airplane mode.”

Sully drew in a long, airy breath through his nostrils, then grumbled, “Mine too.”

“Hey,” she said, drumming her fingers on Cody’s hip bone, his stiff cock jittering up and down on her forearm muscles. “Someone keeps texting you.”

When Cody didn’t stir, she craned her neck, pivoting her face upward, her ear on his chest near one of those picture-perfect brown nipples like a suction cup. She swerved her arm from under Cody’s morning wood—so stiff it didn’t fall to his stomach—put her hand between his legs and four-finger patted his balls.

Cody’s eyes fluttered open, widened, narrowed, went sleepy again. With a few more pats, he opened them again, the sideways morning light changing his turquoise eyes to a pale, icy green. Then he did the same protracted nostril inhale her husband had done, looked down at her and showed her an easygoing, sleepy smile.

And as though he’d passed out at a sex party, wakened and wanted to get right back into the fun, he reached down and thumbed his cock upright like a meaty tower.

“Very impressive, sleepyhead,” she said, slipping her hand from his scrotum to cup mid-shaft on his member’s belly. “But I need you to find your phone and smash it to pieces for me.” She waggled his erection now, adding, “Bring it here, and I’ll whack it with this.”

Cody arched his back, stretching, his cock swelling in her easy grip. He grunted and groaned, looked over to Sully behind her, Sully probably back to sleep already knowing her husband.

Slow recognition passed Cody’s handsome face as he recalled who he was with and where he was. “Oh yeah,” he said, flexing his arms just as his phone chimed one more time.

She let his cock go and rolled to her back, putting her hand up to pat Sully’s stubbly cheek.

“That’ll be Carla,” Cody said, rocking forward and springing off the bed, bending over and going through his clothes laying on the floor beside the bed.

She scratched Sully’s neck, watching Cody’s pale and perfect boy ass and his hanging balls.

Then: something rigid pushing against her hamstring.

She scoffed, saying to Sully, “You’ve got morning wood, too?”

No shame at all, Sully just nodded, his scratchy chin rubbing on her collar, humming a lazy affirmative sound.

“Good for you, stud,” she said, and patted his sleepy cheek.

“Scarlet, baby,” Cody said, pulling his phone out of his shorts pocket, “you’re just too damn hot. Every man on this yacht woke up with a stiffy ‘cause of your sheer proximity.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, admiring Cody standing sideways to the bed, all lean and naked muscle, attention on his phone, reading the texts, long and impressive penis levitating straight out, ready for action. She wanted him back in bed.

“Yup, it’s Carla,” he said, chuckling. “Back in our room, wondering where the heck I am.” He tossed his phone next to her on the bed where he’d been laying, stooped and pulled on his t-shirt.

She pooched out her lips, disappointed she couldn’t admire his body and those low slants of belly muscle angled at his hips anymore. He stepped into his shorts and pulled them up, cock too inflated and straight to go in easy.

“Aw, you’re leaving us?”

Cody said, “I’d love to stay, Scar, but Carla sounds excited. I want to hear how it went.”

She said, “Me too.”

Sully muttered, “Bunch of gossips,” and she patted his cheek again. Harder.

Cody stuck his butt out and palm-shoved his erection behind the fly before standing straighter and zipping up. He grabbed his sideways bulge and squeezed it, saying, “I hope Byron was considerate enough to leave me a little something.”

“I’m sure he did,” Sully said, his skeptical words damp on her collar.

Cody said, “They went all night,” collecting his phone from the bed and squeezing it into the pocket opposite where his cock angled.

Now Sully lifted his head, eyes just sleepy slits, brow furrowed, mouth squished to one side in a doubtful smirk. She laughed and pecked his cheek, saying, “Look who wants the gossip now.”

Sully rolled his eyes and grumbled, his head falling into her hair and collar again.

She said, “Sully’s worried Byron can go longer than him.”

Cody laughed, and leaned on the bed, putting a knee up next to her. He lowered his mouth and she kissed him on his soft lips. Her hand went without prompting and cupped the cottony bulge between his legs and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Cody said, “I love Sully’s competitive spirit,” and left her, standing bedside again, taking his watch from the night table and looping it on his wrist.

She said, “Don’t get him started.”

Cody buckled his watch. “Don’t you want him started?”

“That’s a good point. I bet Byron left Carla and is now servicing Cheyenne as a morning treat. Chey did say he’s a real rabbit.” She watched for Sully in her periphery and sure enough he lifted his head, eyes opening, resigned to being awake now, and a competitive gleam winking.

He said, “Nobody wants to sleep around here?”

She said to Cody, “That’s the only competition he’s interested in this morning apparently.”

Cody looked ready to go, standing further from the bed, smiling at them. He said, “You guys know what you’re going to say to Paloma?”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be with her last night?”

“Kind of, I guess,” she said. Sully rubbed his eyes, trying to rouse himself.

“But it was me in your bed,” Cody said.

“So?”

Cody shrugged, waving bye to them with a lazy waist-high salute, heading to the door. “I hope she takes it well.”

She lifted her head from the pillow. “You think she’ll be mad?”

Cody shrugged again, standing with a hand on the door lever, enjoying not telling her for sure, his face amused in a way that said he thought Paloma would be real mad.

“She oughtta be mad at you if she wants to be mad about it,” she said and let her head thump back down. Sully was up on one elbow at her side now.

“I hope it works out that way for you, Scar,” he said, winking. “See you guys later.” Then he was gone.

She looked at Sully looming over her now, the sleepiness wiped from his face, replaced with a look of lusty desire. She said, “What do you think’s gonna happen here?”

He snatched the sheets away, revealing her naked and she yelped and laughed, bringing her knees tight together as Sully tried to climb on top of her. He straddled her thighs and put his wet lips on her tummy and blew a long, wet, and loud raspberry. She squirmed higher, freed her trapped legs and brought her knees up to her chest then opened her thighs. “Do it again,” she said. “But lower.”

Summer Swap 6-2 (Patreon)

Arlo stayed in the shower when Lily got out, wagging her behind at him. Arlo tried to swat it but she jumped away, giggling, grabbing a big fluffy towel and drying herself while Arlo sang his shower song; a deep-voiced lounge version of “Shake It Off.” She snapped off her shower cap, brushed her hair and put on lip gloss, dry and naked before the mirror.

Arlo stop singing for a moment and slid over the shower’s frosted panel, asking her what she was wearing today. He looked very sexy with his longish hair wet and tangled, his soulful eyes regarding her in the mirror. She told him she hadn't decided yet.

Arlo said, “I laid out on the bed what you're wearing today.”

She popped the cap back on her lip gloss and tossed it onto the bathroom counter, spun around to face the real Arlo, not his reflection, tossing her long blonde hair, putting her butt against the counter’s edge with her hands out behind her. “What if I don't want to wear your stupid outfit?” She pouted and shook her shoulders, jiggling her titties at him.

Arlo had gone Daddy on her while he was singing in there. And she liked it. Sex until midnight, then they fell asleep together and her husband was still horny in the morning. So was she.

He opened the door a little wider and said her name in warning, his long penis dangling, all soapy. She pushed her hips forward and parted her thighs. There was nothing funner than challenging Arlo's Daddy with a bratty and horny babygirl. He clenched his jaw, scowling, slid the door closed, and she laughed.

“If you're not wearing the sundress I picked out for you,” he said, his voice deep and echoing from behind the frosted glass, “I'm going to put you over my knee.”



The frilly mint-green sundress he bought her in the spring lay on their bed. Beside it a pair of youths underwear bottoms, pink with a pattern of periwinkle flowers. She picked up the underwear, smirked, went back in the bathroom and said to the closed shower, “I wasn’t going to wear underwear today, Daddy. It’s going to be too hot out there.”

The warbled shape of her husband behind the frosted glass bowed his head, thinking. He said, “Put on your underwear, Lily. You’re getting too old for that. Your dress is short and none of the grownups would feel comfortable seeing between your legs by accident.”

“That’s their problem,” she said, then laughed into a cupped hand.

Undeterred, Arlo raised his voice, saying, “Put. Them. On.”

She shouted, “Fine!” Then left and slammed the door, laughing to herself, dressing in the underwear and slipping the sundress on. No bra. She cinched the dress at the waist with a thin cotton belt then opened the bathroom door and found Arlo stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. She gasped and covered her eyes.

Arlo reminded her little girls were supposed to knock before entering a room, and said he should spank her for slamming the door the way she did.

She said, “The wind took it, Daddy. I didn’t slam it.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, and she moved her hand away from her eyes to see him with the towel around his waist, looking so hot with his sleeve tattoo and his wet skin and lean body. Now he said, “What are you in here for?”

She pooched out her lower lip, then said, “I just wanted to know what you wanted for breakfast, Daddy. I was going to make you something.”

“Just coffee, Lily. I don’t want you using the stove on your own.”

She couldn’t help laughing at that and he looked over to her, hairbrush in hand—one very suitable for a spanking—and his expression showing no humor, all serious business now. She stood straighter.

He said, “Did you put on your underwear?”

“Yes.”

His brow lowered. “Show me.”

She said, “No.”

Arlo grumbled, rubbed his scruffy chin, started to brush his hair, then turned to her again. “Show me, Lily.”

She shook her head no, and as he took a step toward her, she yelped and ran out of the bathroom, Arlo hot on her tail. She was laughing too hard to get away from him and he got her by the bed, snatching the back of her sundress. She dove face first onto the bed and thrust her hands down to grab her skirt. Arlo kneeled over her, trying to lift the skirt, saying, “Show me, Lily, you better show me,” and she kicked her feet and shouted for him to stop. But he got her skirt up and saw her pink underwear.

He sighed. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

Before she answered, he swatted her bottom three times with the hairbrush, big bright smacks that brought her pussy to life. She squirmed around to face him, chuckling, discovered he had lost his towel in the chase and his dick had grown half hard with her bratty antics. She gasped again and recoiled at the sight, saying, “Oh my gosh— Daddy!”

Arlo didn’t react this time, covering up or getting off her, only lowered his mouth to kiss her forehead. “Get some french toast started,” he whispered. “I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”

She pouted because he wasn’t playing along anymore, but french toast sounded fantastic and she was really hungry. “For two or for everybody?”

He stepped rearward off the bed and grabbed his towel from the floor. “Make a big batch. Anyone up late can microwave it like the heathens they are.”



Out in the hallway, headed for the kitchen, Scarlet and Sullivan’s room door opened, but it was Cody backing out of their suite. First thing she noticed—gosh, how would she miss it?—was an enormous bulge in Cody’s shorts. He had an obvious erection, a really big one, running to his left hip, bowing out the front of his shorts. When he saw her standing there, he said, “Oh, hey, morning, Miss Lily,” trying to cover up his erection with his t-shirt.

“Good morning,” she sang, sweet and kind, giving the littlest curtsy she could, not calling him out on his aroused state or that he was coming out of Sully and Scarlet’s room like he’d been in there all night. The clothes he wore were the same when he’d abandoned her and Arlo last night during their card game.

“What you up so early for?” he said, coming her way.

“You’re up, too,” she said, gathering her hands at her waist and locking her fingers together. Cody’s arousal was partially covered, but still evident. She’d seen him naked before, but he’d never had a hard one. Something about this surprise greeting in the hall made her stomach feel kind of sour—but not in the terriblest way.

“I suppose I am,” he said, stopping to talk. “You’re showered and dressed and ready for the day.”

“We went to bed early last night because somebody abandoned our card game.”

“Ooh,” he said, looking sheepish, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that, Lily. You sore about it?”

“Nah,” she said. “We like going to bed early anyways.”

“Early to bed, early to rise,” he said, “even on vacation.”

“I’m going to make french toast,” she said. “You hungry?” Then, unable to help herself, added, “You work up an appetite?”

Cody made no note of her comment, said, “I gotta talk to Carla, but we’ll be up soon.”

Still unable to help herself, she looked to Scarlet and Sully’s door, all sweet and innocent, inquiring, “Are they up?”

“Uh, yeah. Though, I don’t know, they might sleep in still.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, narrowing her eyes on him, wicked, wicked scoundrel that he was. “Real maple syrup,” she said. “From upstate.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, tugging on his t-shirt’s hem in an effort to conceal his raging boner, worried what sweet Lily Dixon thought of his behavior.

“I can’t wait either,” she said, lowering her eyes to his bulge, wanting him to know he could try to hide from her who he was but she still saw. “Maybe we’ll see you soon.”

They parted ways, and Cody strutted back to his room and went in to talk to Carla. Talk, in finger quotes. Before she headed to the kitchen she paused outside Scarlet and Sullivan’s door, shaking her head and pursing her lips. So Scarlet had sex with big-shot Cody Weber, Mr. Millionaire, and he of the tanned skin and blue-lagoon eyes. And very big penis. “Gross,” she said and shuddered. “Shame, shame, Miss Scarlet,” she whispered, moved to leave, then turned back to add, “You too, Mr. Sullivan. Shame, shame, shame.”

* * *

Byron waited a long time, in reflection, before saying to Chey, “Made you think about what?”

“Like what I want from all of this,” she answered, her eyes meeting his now. “What we want from it.”

“What do we want from it?”

“You don’t know?”

He made a troubled sound, wanting to be past any bad feelings over what they were doing, and yet somehow even after a wonderful night with Carla set up by Cheyenne, he couldn’t shake a guilty feeling. But it was easy for him to say: “I don’t want Carla if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

Chey’s mouth twisted around, trying to form the words she wanted to say, and he anticipated her next statement like some evil predictive text AI: I want Cody.

So he asked her point blank like a man should in an honest and open relationship, one where he wasn’t always afraid of hearing the answer: “Do you want Cody?” No inflection, no coercive emotional tinge as subconscious indication of the answer he wanted.

Chey didn’t say no right away, but her eyes didn’t say yes. She said, “You two looked very nice this morning.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” he said. “It would have been different if I knew you were.” Meaning: I wouldn’t have had as much fun.

Chey exhaled, knowing what his response meant and hopefully feeling her own guilt over it. “I’m glad I did. I mean, not glad, but...”

“You didn’t like it.”

“It hurt like crazy.” Her eyes were distant, glossy, looking at the floor.

“Chey...”

“No,” she said. “You don’t have to console me. Anything we do in our marriage—especially something like this—it’s a team effort. It’s a we thing. Not a you thing and not a Chey thing. I told you I wanted to have sex with Cody, and you were okay with it and I told myself later it was because you wanted Carla, and then later I told you I wanted you to watch me with Cody and you didn’t want to but in the end you did. It’s like... You want this to work.”

“We entered into this together, Chey. Both of us. We should make it about acceptance. Right now it seems more like resignation. I’m resigned to the fact you like certain things done certain ways, but I’m committed to more.”

She looked in his eyes, surprised yet not surprised. And impressed too.

“I’m committed to more than resignation. More than acceptance even. Maybe some day even willful facilitation, you know?”

She chuckled, nodding, raising her eyebrows, knowing what that entailed. She said, “I was honest with you. I really was. I like people.... god, it’s so embarrassing...”

“You like people watching.”

She looked up again. “I do.”

“Exhibitionism,” he said and shrugged. “No biggie.”

“It’s pretty big,” she said.

“It’s the size you make it, Chey.”

She took a breath, held it then let it out. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

She steadied her gaze on his. “You can talk a big game about rocking Carla’s world, but deep down I knew what you would make of a night with her, and when I watched you I saw I was right. You want intimacy.”

Now it was him chewing his cheek, his hand over Cheyenne’s going chilly. “I don’t know about that, Chey.”

“Like I said, I was with Cody last night and we were talking...”

“And?”

“I told him exactly what I thought about you and Carla: that you weren’t going to do weird sex acts with her, do crazy stuff, dirty stuff. You were going to talk to her, have fun with her, play around, and... get close.”

“Is Cody mad?”

“Not at all,” she said, a positive note in her tone now. “He hopes you guys get close. That’s what he said to me. He hopes you guys do. Like, who says that? Who wants their spouse to make a connection with someone?”

“I don’t want to do something that hurts you, Chey. Carla’s not important to me. You’re important to me. We should stop this.”

She nodded and sniffled, then hooked her thumb over the top of his hand. “Or...”

“Or what?”

“We keep going, but we try harder.”

“How? You said you couldn’t watch us.”

“I couldn’t, but I did. And it’s not what you think. Not try harder that way. Maybe you were right in the first place. Maybe it shouldn’t just be sex. Like, you were just yourself with Carla. Me, I was Susan, sometime ski-trip chaperone for a class of high school kids, sometime high plains prostitute. And Cody, Cody wasn’t Cody. Cody was some oil worker, some western drifter, then he was a cowboy or something, a rustler, maybe a Western lowlife who worked in the brothel business... But, whatever... I wasn’t me and he wasn’t Cody.”

He knew what she would say next. His heart thudded and thudded, harder and harder. She wanted to be Cheyenne, and she wanted Cody to be Cody. She wanted to be intimate. She wanted to have real human-being sex, real human-being connection, a heart-to-heart. Just like he’d had with Carla last night—and god had it been a good time. A good, good time.

Would Chey ask him to watch her do that, too?

Summer Swap 6-3 (Patreon)

Something troubled Byron and he didn’t want to say what it was. It was in the way he wouldn’t look at her right now, his eyes down, brow furrowed in thought, but mostly it was the way his lips pursed, the way his lower lip encroached on his upper lip, pushing it upward and forming a downturned crescent. Not unhappiness. Doubtfulness. Like he had bad news to break to her and he didn’t know how to say it—but he had to be careful because if he said whatever it was he wanted to say, he might hurt her feelings. The expression wasn’t new to her. She’d seen it a few times before. Like when she would get a great and exciting idea and he’d try to bring her down to reality, explain how the real world worked. Not in a mansplaining way, always with kindness, but it still had the effect of making her subordinate to his intellect, like she was the kooky creative one and he was the grown up and sensible one who made the decisions because his head wasn’t in the clouds and his feet were on the ground.

“Say it, Byron.”

Now he looked aside like what he had to say wasn’t a big deal, but they both knew it was a big deal. “Well, what did Cody say to you?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“You don’t understand? How did he... Let me put it this way: did Cody say something about wanting to get to know you better, or was it watching me on the prow?”

“You mean you with Carla?” Byron couldn’t say Carla’s name, again not wanting to make his wife mad. “Cody’s wanted to be with me for a long time and there are things he wants to explore that we never got around to.”

“Okay,” Byron said, nodding, accepting her answer.

“You don’t believe me?”

Now he looked shocked as though she’d misrepresented him. “Why wouldn’t I believe you, Chey?”

“Just the way you said okay.”

“You answered me and I said okay. I just...”

“Would you please say what you want to say and don’t spare my feelings.”

Now he was puzzled but she knew she’d pegged him right. He said, “I’m surprised to hear you want to explore being more... What’s the word? Not intimate, but what, intimacy? Emotion.”

“You did with Carla.”

“I guess, but...”

“But what?”

Byron scratched his neck, uncomfortable. “I don’t want that with Carla.”

“Right, but you got it. Don’t you see that? It’s easy to say you don’t want it when you get it.”

Now he had no more to say, his lips pursing in a straight line that meant he would say no more. And what could he say? She’d watched him with Carla, saw how they behaved together. She and Cody had been a couple of sex maniacs. That’s what seemed appropriate. Byron would say he was just being himself, and that was right, but if he didn’t see it, didn’t see how that might be the wrong thing, then maybe she was wrong to think it was wrong in the first place.

He changed the subject, the pursed lips pulling into a pleasant smile, his face turning to hers. “Thank you for everything you did to make it happen.”

She showed a sheepish smirk, rolling her eyes. It had been difficult to do, difficult to keep it a secret, of course, but also difficult to commit to, given the nature of what she’d organized. It wasn’t exactly a birthday party. In the end, despite riding a really fun and not embarrassing at all anxiety wave last night, it had been a good thing. The right thing; a noble thing.

“I hope you had fun,” she said.

“The uniform thing was weird, that’s for sure.”

“You looked good in it.”

“Oh, yeah? Want me to try it on for you?”

She scrunched her nose, shaking her head.

“No, I guess not,” he said.

The way he sat, looking down at the floor, made her feel guilty for wrecking his fun night with all her own business and bad attitude. She said, “I like grown-up Byron, that’s the guy I fell for. I mean, I’m sure you were a cutie pie in high school, but I like you the way you are now.”

“Aw shucks,” he said, cocking his head at her and batting his eyelashes boyishly.

“Yeah, not that Byron,” she said, putting her hand on his face and shoving him away, both of them laughing.

Then he stood up and showed perfect posture, looming over her, head tipped at a cocky angle. “You want this Byron,” he said, tone even and measured, voice deepened.

She raised her face and closed her eyes, pooching out her lips. Byron kissed them.

But she stopped him then, before he took it too far. “You need to shower first,” she said, patting his shoulders.

* * *

Scarlet slept in with Sully till almost ten. They didn’t emerge from their suite until half past.

Cody, Carla, Byron, and Arlo were puttering around the kitchen, Arlo seeing them coming and saying, “There they are—Byron was speculating you guys might have fallen overboard last night.”

“We’re up, we’re up,” Sully said, spreading his arms wide like arriving royalty.

Arlo said, “Well, you’re fifteen minutes late for breakfast. Byron ate the last of the french toast thinking you guys might have floated out to sea.”

“What the hell, Byron?”

“It was so fucking good, Sully,” Byron said. “I don’t even feel a little guilty.”

Cody looked up from his phone, brightening when he saw her, looking her up and down. Sully put Byron in an affectionate headlock.

Cody said, “Hey, guys, a head’s up: the cleaning crew is coming in the afternoon.”

She said, “When?”

“Around two. So hide your drugs and guns and your copies of Inches magazine, all your dildos, whips and chains, strangled prostitutes; whatever you guys get up to in your suites.”

Sully loosened his headlock, turning to the side, shouting to Chey who sat in the lounge across the way with Lily: “Chey!”

“What?”

“Hide your strap-on.”

“Idiot,” Byron said, laughing and pushing Sully away.

Chey was motioning to her with urgency, like there was some juicy gossip to report. Scarlet held up a one-sec finger, turning to Cody. “Where are Philippe and Paloma?”

“Sunning themselves, I think. Out on the swimming deck.”

There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to ask, but didn’t want to do it in front of everyone. Wanted Cody to say something without her asking, say something like they were cool with last night, even though you did a power move on them, then without realizing it, also gave them a kind of a middle finger by inviting me to stay and watch. And a little more, too.

Cody said nothing, turning to hold Carla from behind as she poured herself orange juice, dancing with her—then swiping her glass and downing it.

“Scar!”

Scarlet turned to see Chey waving her over, out of patience. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, crossing out of the kitchen and into the lounge, over to where Lily and Chey sat on couches, Chey with a coffee and a pillow in her lap. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Chey said to Lily, “Tell her.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Lily said, looking blushed with embarrassment.

Chey patted the spot next to her and told Scarlet to, “Sit, sit.” Then she raised her coffee cup and got Byron’s attention, saying to him in the kitchen, “Can we get some more coffees?”

“Coming right up,” Byron said.

“Okay,” Chey said. “Remember when we heard Lily’s shop got audited?”

“Yeah?”

“She didn’t get audited.”

Scarlet shrugged her shoulders, no idea where this was going. “I don’t get it.” Then she looked to Lily for more info. “It was Arlo who said you were audited.”

Lily’s eyes rolled around, sweet and shy, but something else going on behind those cornsilk eyes. She exhaled. “Oh, well, yeah. He audited me.”

“Who did? He did? Arlo? Why?”

“To teach me a lesson,” Lily said, wringing her fingers together. “To show me what it was like. I was late filing by like a day and he...” She started to smile, too flummoxed to look at either of them.

“That sounds kind of mean,” Scarlet said.

Lily quickly corrected her. “Oh gosh, no, I liked it. It taught me a lesson. You should see how tight my books are now.”

“So you didn’t get audited?”

“Not by the IRS. By Arlo,” Chey said, tapping Scarlet’s arm with the backs of her fingers like there was more to this she should see.

Scarlet said, “Why did he say that then? He said you were audited and you were still upset about it. That’s what he said after you broke the plate.”

Lily’s eyes widened and now she looked guilty as well as shameful. “Oh, that? Yeah, no that was, well, I guess it was kind of related.”

“What’s going on with you two?”

Lily said, “We’re just messing around with each other.”

“You looked really mad.”

“I was supposed to look mad,” Lily said and looked away again.

“All right, I guess,” Scarlet said. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

Lily chuckled, almost insulted, but then met Scarlet’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Scarlet. Let me assure you: I couldn’t possibly be happier.”

Chey was dissatisfied now, slumping back in the couch. “I thought it was more than that.”

Scarlet asked her how and Chey leaned forward again, this time saying, “Doesn’t it sound, kind of, I don’t know... Dominant?”

Scarlet scoffed and said to Lily with a wry smile, “Yeah, Lily. Is Arlo dominant?”

Lily didn’t get it, her mouth squishing to one side. She said, “Arlo?”

Both Chey and Scarlet started to laugh but tried to include Lily so she wouldn’t think they were laughing at her. “We’re just trying to picture Arlo like, you know, dominant.” Was there another word for what she meant? She didn’t want to accidentally insult Lily—but at least Lily played along and didn’t look worried.

Chey said, “Like maybe the cleaners would find leather stuff in your room.”

“Oh,” Lily said, giggling, as if it all made sense now. “No, we left that stuff at home.”

Now all three of them laughed together, loud enough everyone from the kitchen looked over to see what the hell had happened. When they were done and Byron had brought them coffee, a fresh cup for Scarlet, Scarlet asked Chey how everything went last night.

“It was good. I came to my senses.”

Scarlet could tell there was more to the story, but Chey didn’t want to divulge in front of Lily.

Then Lily said, “How about you, Scarlet? How did your night go?”

“I think it fizzled,” Chey said knowingly.

“I don’t think it did,” Lily said in a singsong.

Chey said, “What do you mean?”

“She had a visitor.”

Chey turned to Scarlet. “You did? Who?”

“Oh, uh...” Then she shook her head, wondering what Lily knew and what the heck she was referring to.

“It’s not who you think,” Lily said, meaning Lily understood—Scarlet was sure—that she knew Scarlet and Sully had swung with Philippe. But it wasn’t Philippe.

“I’m not saying who it is,” Lily said, trying to play along as a good friend, putting up her hands in surrender, miming the act of zipping her mouth closed, then collecting her coffee cup and sipping from it.

Chey thought about it, cocking her head, eyes darting around. Then scowled—remembering she’d left a certain someone in Scarlet’s bed last night.

She turned to Scarlet, face drawn and pale, looking unhappy. She said, “Cody?”

Summer Swap 6-4 (Patreon)

Byron watched from across the island as Arlo slipped an egg in boiling water, suspending it on a large flat spoon, one hand jittering the pot handle, spinning a vortex in the center of the steaming water. The egg spun for a second, hovering in place like a UFO, the clear white going opaque in a second. He repeated the task with a second egg.

Sully said, “Man, I never get a poached egg right. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You have to have fresh eggs, Sully, my friend. These came from the island yesterday. Probably laid yesterday.”

Byron came around the island and sidled next to Sully, complaining. “What, he’s making you your own special breakfast?”

Sully looked at him, offended. “You ate my fucking french toast.” Then saying to Arlo, “The audacity...”

Arlo laughed along, eyes down and watching his own hands work, always at home and in control in a kitchen. Byron and Sully were mere observers.

But now, across in the lounge, abrupt movement caught his and Sully’s attention. Chey bolted up, standing over Scarlet who reclined away from her. Then Cheyenne stomped around the low table in front of the couches and made a beeline out of the lounge and down the hall where the suites were.

Byron muttered, “What the fuck was that?”

It looked like something went wrong, something bad was said, and Chey was mad and had stormed out. Lily and Scarlet sat on the couches still, Lily looking shocked, Scarlet looking morose.

As Byron eased off the counter, looking to follow after Chey and see if she was alright, Sully put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, maybe let Scar handle it.”

Byron turned. “Handle what? What was that?”

“It’s nothing. We wondered, me and Scar, if it would be a big deal.”

“If what would be a big deal?”

Sully scrubbed his face, exhaling, then put his hands out behind him, leaning on the counter. “Uh, me and Scar didn’t go with Philippe and Paloma last night.”

“Yeah. Okay. Chey said something about that.”

“I’ll tell you later. Anyway, Chey was a bit jazzed up about you being with Carla.” He looked around to make sure Carla wasn’t listening in. Carla and Cody were together near the table.

Byron prompted him to continue. “Chey said she went to your guys’s room.”

“Yeah, we cheered her up. Cody was there. Nothing happened, I swear.”

“I know.”

“So, Chey left, she was brighter, happier, and didn’t want to be in bed with Cody. Or us.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, but after she left, uh, Cody... Hung around for awhile.”

“Oh,” Byron said, seeing the big deal. But smiling regardless. “Oh, I see.”

Arlo looked up from his work and showed them an amused expression like he wished he didn’t have to overhear this. They all snickered.

But now Byron saw the problem this created. He groaned and rubbed the heel of his hand into an eye socket. Across the way, Scarlet patted Lily’s knee. Lily still looked a little shook. Then Scar stood up and wandered out of the lounge, heading to the passageway that led to the suites.

Byron exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I’m just going to let Scarlet deal with it.”

Lily sat alone now, her mouth working around, her brow lowered. Her eyes settled on Cody and she studied him through narrowed eyes.

Byron turned to the guys, saying, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

Sully said nothing, and immediately went to the far side of the counter and hefted up the big bottle of vodka, smiling ear to ear.

* * *

Arlo ladled the two poached eggs onto the homemade egg bread—leftover after the french toast—with flourish, then pressing the sharp edge of the spoon against one egg to break it, and prove to Byron and Sully it was poached to perfection. Sully brought his hands together in the attitude of prayer, placing the tips on his nose, closing his eyes, saying, “You’re the absolute fucking best, Arlo.”

A soft and familiar hand closed on his upper arm, and he turned to see his Lily smiling up at him. “What’s up, honey?”

She pouted and said, “I’m bo-ored,” doing it quietly to hide from Sully and Byron the childish tone to her voice.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” He cupped her cheek and thumbed her lower lip. Lily shied away, not always a big fan of public displays of affection, but still smiling, biting her lower lip now where he’d touched it. She looked around at Sully and Byron, Sully tucking into his poached eggs, and Byron sipping an early morning Screwdriver—vodka and OJ—looking out the kitchen window to the sea. It was weird to think his wife had helped Cheyenne shave Byron’s genitals last night. As much as they’d separated themselves from their friends antics—and been shielded from it by them, too—they were still enjoined. But Lily was paying no attention to Byron—she might have forgot all about it—saying now, “Well, the cleaners are coming today”—she checked to see if anyone could overhear her before adding: “Daddy.”

“Yes? What does my sugar plum want to do today?”

“Maybe take me for a ride on a jet ski?”

“How can I refuse such a polite little lady?”

They both snickered and got closer, leaning her elbows on the island counter. He did the same, the two of them looking at each other sideways.

Like a grownup, Lily said, “I want to go into town today. I want to go shopping.”

“We can do that. Sounds like fun.”

“Trust me,” Lily purred, hip-bumping him. “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

* * *

Didn’t even knock, just entered Cheyenne’s suite, opening the door and walking in. Chey lay on the bed, shocked Scarlet would just walk in on her. She said, “I could be naked.”

Scarlet said, “First of all, you knew Cody was in our bed, so why don’t you think he just fell asleep there?”

Chey sat up. “Did he just sleep there?”

“What does it matter, Chey?”

Knowing there was no defense, Chey just muttered and shook her head like she was defeated.

“You were doing so good, sweetheart. You did great last night.”

“So, what, I’m not doing good now?”

Scarlet tried not to laugh, looking at her friend trying to defend her jealous and petulant behavior, sitting there with a snarky look and a held out hand. “You just stormed off for no reason and made me look stupid, and made Lily uncomfortable.”

Chey scoffed and shook her head again. “Well, that wasn’t my intent.”

“You had no intent,” Scarlet said. “Just a knee-jerk reaction. But it’s one that would take a lot of explanation. Like, you’d be mad if I slept with Cody?”

Chey looked at her like of course she’d be mad, but didn’t say anything because being mad would be ridiculous. Then she submitted, her tense features loosening past neutral and somewhere nearer to glum. “Did you?”

“Did I what, Chey? Sleep with Cody?”

Cheyenne looked up at the ceiling, wanting to fight or argue but knew it would be a losing battle, knew she had no coherent defense. Then: “Yeah. Did you?”

Scarlet entered the room, closing the door behind her, then moving to sit next to Chey. Very serious and sober now, she said, “Why on earth would it matter to you?”

“Why are you being so cruel?”

“I’m not being cruel. Why would you say that?”

“You’re trying to humiliate me, make me say my feelings out loud so you can make fun of them and then show me how dumb I am for thinking that way.”

Scarlet nodded, took a beat to think about it. “I guess I was kind of doing that.”

“I know it’s stupid to feel this way. Now: did you sleep with Cody or not?”

Scarlet took a big breath and let it out. “No. I didn’t.”

“If you did you probably wouldn’t come in here because you’d know it was wrong.”

“To sleep with him? How is it wrong?”

“You’ve got your guy, Sully has his girl—”

“What, Paloma’s his girl? Don’t make me laugh.”

“You know what I’m saying. Cody is—”

“Sully’s my husband. He doesn’t have a girl. I don’t have a guy. I have Sully. Sully has me. Philippe’s fun. We had a good time together. But he’s not my guy.”

Cheyenne made a frustrated sound and got off the bed, turned to say, “What about the audition stuff we talked about?”

“That this is an audition, this yacht vacation?”

“Yeah. Don’t you see it?”

“See what, Chey?”

Chey stabbed hands towards her. “That they want something from us.”

“Yeah. Sex! We’ve been giving it. And getting it, if you ask me.”

“And what about a polycule?”

“What about it?”

“What’s that? Is that sex?”

“I don’t know.”

“They want commitment, Scarlet. They don’t want loosey-goosey sexual free-for-all.”

Scarlet raised her eyebrows, offended. “That’s what you’re saying I am?”

“Look who’s defensive now.”

Scarlet folded her arms and crossed her legs, one leg jumping up and down out of anger and frustration. She said, “It’s Philippe and Paloma who are in the polycule. Not Cody and Carla.”

Cheyenne chuckled. “Right. Just Paloma and Philippe.”

Scarlet looked up, confused. “You don’t think it is?”

“You don’t think Cody and Carla are in the polycule? . . . They’re partitioning us. Cody and Carla want me and Byron, and you can surmise the rest.”

“No, that’s bullshit, Chey.”

“How do you know?”

“I didn’t sleep with Cody last night, but it’s not like nothing happened. And whatever happened, Cody was all for it. He’s the one who stayed in our bed. We didn’t ask him to stay, Cheyenne.”

Chey looked angrier, turned away and crossed her own arms, pacing to the door before turning around to say, “You said you didn’t sleep with him, but now you’re saying something happened. But you’re saying it now to win an argument, to hurt my feelings. Is it true? . . . Were you sparing my feelings before by saying nothing happened or are you trying to hurt my feelings now by saying something did happen?”

“Chey, you’re jealous over a married man and you’re married.” She jabbed a thumb at her own chest. “And I’m married!”

“Who says I’m jealous over Cody? I’m more jealous of Byron and Carla than I am of you and Cody, Scarlet. What gets me worked up is there has to be rules if we’re going to do this and you’re over in your play area with crayons everywhere and you’re just coloring outside of all the lines. You don’t even care.”

“Then who are you to consider for a second anyone would choose you for a polycule if you can’t control your jealousy?”

Chey looked suddenly grim and green and her mouth tightened. She said, “You didn’t see what I saw last night, Scarlet.”

She rolled her eyes. “What did you see?”

“Like I’m going to tell you,” Chey muttered and turned away.

“Just tell me,” she said and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Chey turned back. “You first. You tell me. Tell me what you did with Cody.”

Scarlet put up her hands in surrender, surprised how much anger this argument had produced, feeling it in her high heart rate and her throbbing temples and her hot temper kind of looking forward to a fight. She sat down and said, “Okay, here’s what happened...”

Summer Swap 6-5 (Patreon)

WHAT HAPPENED WAS...

Sully fucked her nice and slow from behind, caressing her shoulder, pulling it closer to him so she would open up her posture, show her naked breasts to this other man in their bed. Watching. Smiling. Moonlight sparkling in his eye.

Sully thumbed her nipple, stroked her inner thigh. She was exposed, facing Cody, Sully behind her, on her side with her leg bent, knee pointed to the ceiling. Sully was showing her off. His hand sweeping over her curves like she was a brand new model year of Ferrari and this was the biggest international car show. And Cody looked like he wanted one. Cody looked like he’d whip out his big fat credit card to have her in his garage. Even if it was only for a night.

Sully whispered in her ear, “If I said he could, I swear to god right now, that guy would fuck you.”

“I think you’re right,” she said.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said now. It prickled her skin and tightened her nipples even harder. Then he said, “Tell him you want to see that dick of his.”

As she began to speak, Sully smacked her butt cheek, interrupting her, whispering in her ear, “No cowboy voices tonight. I don’t like that shit.”

She snorted an unsexy laugh, then covered her mouth, hiding her face in her hair. Sully chuckled and smacked her bottom again, never ceasing his slow and careful pace of his stroke in her tender interior.

Cody laughed too, saying, “What’s so funny?”

She bit her lower lip and looked at him, held in her husband’s embrace, reaching over and running her hand from Cody’s hard chest, down his midsection and hooking a curled index finger into his waistband right above his fly. “There’re no cowboys here tonight,” she said.

“They’re out on the ranch,” he said. “It’s only me in this bed.”

She tugged on his waistband, saying, “I want to see it.”

Cody’s eyes stayed on hers, lowering then to look her naked body over, her skin hot with sexual activity, her nipples hard and aching, her pussy engorged and wet and stuffed. He undid his fly, and she watched the muscles of his forearms work as he drew down his zipper. He pulled his big penis out, stretched it, then let it fall on the bed in a fleshy heap, half-hard and puffed up but still pliable.

Sully’s cock surged inside her and she gasped. Sully bit her neck. Her hand returned to Cody, this time her fingers crawling over the hot, gummy flesh of his enlivening organ. She cupped her hand over it, could feel it twitching in her palm, growing bigger and bigger. She smiled at Cody and he smiled at her in return, enjoying their bizarre connection in the moment.

Sully said to her now, “Get him hard without touching him, baby. Let him get hard watching you orgasm.”

Her husband’s dirty game sent a wicked thrill that rushed through her like a surprising gust, like a sinful dust devil rising up out of nowhere and sending everything into disarray. She let Cody’s cock go and moved her hand to cup her husband’s cheek, kissing him over her shoulder as he fucked her a little quicker, a little deeper. Philippe had worked her interior over last night, but the spate of liquid arousal prompted by her lusty husband protected her from discomfort. Sully felt good. Sully felt big and hard and gave her all the pleasure in the world. She let Cody know by responding to her husband’s ministrations with moans and gasps and soft cries, writhing on the bed with hot desire.

Cody watched a long while and she in turn watched his cock grow big and hard. Starting out as a floppy boneless thing, thickening, straightening, getting longer, growing closer and closer to her. She witness his cock head inflate to a perfect textbook cock head, large and flared, the coronal ridge getting thicker. She bet she would feel his cock head. Feel that lip inside her if he fucked her, plunged her.

Sully worked her over, bit by bit, rolling her so she eclipsed his body, half laying on him, her legs wide, Cody watching where Sully’s cock went in and out of her pussy—that absolutely throbbed with the strangest passion right now. An orgasm was building and Cody would watch it.

Then Sully slowed and talked to Cody for the first time since they began, saying, “She likes it if you pat her right here,” reaching between her thighs and patting the underside of three fingers over her commissure, rolling them down a little so they put pressure on her clitoris.

“Hoo,” she exclaimed, a whoops-y-daisy thrill zipping from a startling spot between her vagina and anus. A kaleidoscope of sexual butterflies flittered in her tummy. Her breaths came shaky as she anticipated Cody helping her get over the edge. She almost warned him against it, the sexual thrill here too much to bear.

Cody sat up, eyes never leaving her pussy, pulled off his T-shirt, the light now dancing all over his lean muscle, putting daubs of silvery lunar light on his large shoulders. He pushed his shorts down, now naked as she and Sully, scooting closer on the bed. Sully guided her legs to open even wider, resting his palm on the middle of her thigh. He stroked his cock into her deeper, holding, pulling away, then pushing in again in an inexorable tide-pull toward orgasm. Cody’s hand swept down her tummy, never touching her, hovering then over the place where her husband entered her. He patted her, and she squeaked a funny sound, the thrill of his blatting touch popping off in her brain like bright and naughty pop rocks. She couldn’t wait for him to do it again, her breath weak and shaky, the time spent waiting becoming huge and dreadful. Then he smacked her clit again, a wet splat that had her whimpering. Cody and Sully worked her like that, taking their time, not rushing her to orgasm—no, practically torturing her on the very blade-edge of release.

In the end, she begged them to make her come.

“P-please,” she said, desperate but chuckling, trying to show them good humor so they would reward her with what she wanted, but inside so close to breaking down that if they didn’t allow her to come, she would shriek and wail to get what she wanted.

But Sully fucked her quicker. Cody upped his effort, double-patting, sometimes triple-patting, keeping her guessing. And when she finally did come, Cody pushed the pads of his fingers down in unholy circles, and she cried and babbled with shuddering electric delight as the orgasm twisted her body into an awkward torsion, hands clawed and twisted, one eye closed, one eye open but the lashes fluttering.

When it was done, she collapsed, her cheek batting onto Cody’s muscular chest. The two men enjoyed themselves, proud of their hard work’s result, but she didn’t care if they even cracked open beer cans and high-fived each other, nothing would offend her now, she was too noodled to care.

It took a long time for her to come out of it, and Sully’s hardness lagged until he slipped out of her. As her systems came back on line, she began kissing and suckling Cody’s bronzed chest, working closer to his nipple. Sully wound his hand in her hair and guided her face away from Cody, bringing her mouth to his. They kissed, though her lips were a little lethargic.

Sully said, “If you want to put your mouth on him, he might appreciate it somewhere else. The man was so good to you.”

“He was,” she said.

“I’m warning you though: watching you suck his cock’s going to make me hard again.”

“I’d prefer that as a promise than a warning.”

He smiled and kissed her, then pushed her toward Cody, who’d heard what they said, and now lay back. His body was so fucking gorgeous. The big chest, narrow waist and hips, the abs. And that perfect dick, that unbelievable Brad Pitt of handsome dicks in the world, hard, erect, laying up on his trim belly, off to one side, big hand pointing to 10:30 if she was looking from the ceiling, extending above his hip bone.

She curled up between the two men, her head on Cody’s stomach, her bare butt and sex pointing at her husband, who caressed her haunch. She dragged her nails up Cody’s thigh, watching his cock jitter with his fast heart beat.

Sully said, “Scar told me you have the best cock she’s seen. I think she’s got a crush on it.”

She foot-nudged his knee to can his stupid talk, then skimmed her palm up Cody’s erect length, from his balls hanging between his parted legs up to his end, then back down, finally gripping him mid-shaft and squeezing.

* * *

Instead of the whole truth, Scarlet told Cheyenne that Cody watched her and Sully have sex.

Cheyenne said, “And that’s it?”

“Pretty much,” she said, but then felt guilty enough Chey could read it on her face.

“So not everything.”

“I, uh, may have used my mouth—”

Chey jutted forward. “You went down on him?”

“This is crazy,” she said, throwing up her hands in surrender. “Defending myself for doing nothing wrong.”

“I know it’s not wrong, Scarlet. I’m not saying it’s wrong. It’s like, unfair.”

“Unfair how? Because he’s your guy?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Chey said, jabbing her head like a rooster.

“Oh, come on, Cheyenne. You’re mad because Sully and I messed around with Cody in our bed more than you’re mad at me for messing around with Byron.”

“That wasn’t behind my back.”

“It’s not behind your back if it’s not your husband.”

“Sure it can.”

Scarlet squeezed her hand down her face from forehead to chin, trying to calm herself in the face of such irrationality. She said, “Didn’t you masturbate for my guy? Spread your legs and show him while he jerked off?”

Cheyenne didn’t react with anger, nor with recognition of her unreasonable argument. Her face blank, mouth slimmed, she said, “He wasn’t your guy then.”

“He’s not my guy now,” she exclaimed, laughing because it was ridiculous. “Sully is my guy. He’s the unifying force of my fun times on this yacht. Have you thought about that? About doing this with Byron instead of with Cody?”

“You don’t see Cody and Carla swing together, do you?”

“Chey, I’ve like been an, air quote, swinger for about half an hour, baby.”

“Then why are you telling me how it’s supposed to go?”

“Because you’re upset, you’re mad at me, and I care about you, and I want you to frame this thing in your mind in a way that works.”

Chey folded her arms, looking sullen. “Byron and Carla slept together on the prow of the yacht last night. The two of them curled up together in a blanket. He held her for an hour.”

Scarlet took a deep breath, then sighed. “They were probably cold, Chey.”

“They could go inside if they were cold, Scarlet.”

Scarlet rolled her head around on her neck, considering it. “I’m sorry,” she said, realizing the hurt that might cause her friend. “But I’m also not sorry. Maybe that was a good thing. And you know what?—that was a gift you gave to Byron. Byron’s been your champion, he would walk through flames if it pleased you.”

Chey shook her head and rolled her eyes, admitting in her own silent way that what Scarlet said was true. “Why do you think I’m so possessive, then? So jealous?”

“You should be jealous. That’s good. Jealous for Byron makes sense to me.”

“Byron’s my husband. My friend. The things he shared with Carla were sweet things. My things.”

“Cheyenne, come on...”

Chey threw up her hands, irritated. “Why does nobody see it? Yes, I’m jealous. Yes, it hurt. But at the same time I saw my Byron able to share a part of himself with someone else and maybe it looked good. Maybe Byron, the great and wonderful Byron, showed his own wife there was more to share than my stupid...” She gestured angrily between her own legs. “Why is it okay that Byron shared a sweet night with Carla Weber, but if I have feelings and emotions for Cody and I want to share them with him, I’m somehow a crazy bitch?”

“Chey, no one said you’re a crazy bitch.”

“You act like I’m one. You talk like I’m one. Do I go after you for your approach to this whole thing? Do I lecture you how you’re commodifying sex, reducing it to transactional pleasures? No, I don’t do that. We’re both doing the same thing: extra-marital fun, looking for some sexual adventure to share with our husbands. Byron showed me something last night, and I thought it looked... nice. If Byron had watched me with Cody and then said he wanted to ride Carla like he was a cowboy and she was a bronco that needed busting, no one would have batted an eye. They would have laughed and patted him on the back and told him to go for it. I want what Byron showed me, and suddenly I’m emotionally deranged and I’m not seeing things properly.” With that, she stood, arms still folded, looking less glum and more energized with spirit now, enjoying her self-righteous anger. “I’m going to cool off somewhere. Have a drink. Get some sun. Be alone. So, no offense, Scar, this time, please, don’t follow me.”

Summer Swap 6-6 (Patreon)

Arlo drove her to shore by jet ski and they traveled around St. John to the next island, the East End of St. Thomas, and docked at a resort’s marina somewhere near Sapphire Beach. They rented a scooter and two big starship helmets at the resort, and she hugged Arlo’s back, with her sneakers tucked behind his on the scooter’s footboard, as they zipped along the narrow coastal roads until they were in Charlotte Amalie, the islands’ capital city; population 18,000. Mostly islanders, but a lot of tourists, two extra this afternoon, all the way from Manhattan. The sun shone in the perfect way it only can on those tropical vacation days spent with the wonderful human being you loved.

They didn’t do lunch—that gosh darn French toast was so filling—but once they got to Charlotte Amalie, the first place they stopped was a little spot by the deepwater harbor where you could get coffee, coconut ice, and/or ice cream. Arlo ordered a coconut cold brew coffee, and she got ice cream in a sugary waffle cone, peachy pineapple, and she shared it with Arlo. Then they went shopping at the tourist traps, but they couldn’t really buy anything because they had to drive the scooter back to the resort, and couldn’t transport too much on it.

But now, straight ahead, was the surprise location she tricked Arlo into coming to shore for. When she saw it, and saw it was open (she couldn’t be sure from their website if it would be or not), she took Arlo’s hand and skipped ahead, pulling him along a narrow passageway of old colonial harbor front warehouses, converted into shops. Her light cotton skirt danced around her thighs, getting really close to showing off to the other foot traffic that this naughty young lady went out today without her little girl underwear on. When Arlo swatted at her skirt, trying to keep it down and not reveal her pinkest of secrets, she whipped her hand from his grip and swatted his other, scolding him with: “Daddy!” It turned questioning faces their way and now Arlo wouldn’t say a thing and he would keep his hands to himself.

She swished around, flipping up the rear of her skirt and falling against her husband, making him catch and support her. Arlo hugged her, and she put her face up to his, looking down at her. She said, “Can you tap my crown, please?”

“Your crown?”

She wiggled her bottom against his crotch. “I can’t tell if it’s still there, Daddy. Will you check for me?”

“What is going on with you today?” Arlo smiled, his handsome eyes narrowing on hers. “You’re being so wild.”

She persisted. “Is it still there?”

Arlo snuffled a small laugh, then looked around, waiting for a moment where he thought no one would notice. His hand wedged between their bodies, his warm palm stroking across the cool flesh of her bare bottom. Then his fingertips found her “crown,” and jiggled it, the crown being the base knob of her butt plug. It made her gasp, then squeal, her nipples hardening, as she jumped away from him and shoved her skirt down to protect herself, scolding him with another: “Daddy!” This time he didn’t shy away, stepping forward on the path and embracing her from behind again.

He said in a low, whispering growl, “If you can’t tell it’s in, we’re going to have to find my little girl a much bigger plug. Don’t worry, that’s good news for a Daddy. You wear my plug to stretch that pretty little back hole—if you’re ready for a bigger plug, we’re so much closer to the night your Daddy fucks that perfect sweet ass of yours.” He crotch-humped her bottom so hard he shot her a stumbling step forward, then smacking her bare ass before her skirt came down.

She wheeled around so fast her sneaker heels squealed on the stone pavers. Arlo looked startled by her reaction. She said, “Arlo...”

He tried to look innocent. “Was that bad?”

Her cheeks burned and her heart pounded in her eardrums. She scooted closer to him. “That was not for public use.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said.

She hugged him, giving two good squeezes, overwhelmed by his unexpected dirty talk.

“It’s good,” she said, “no, it’s really good,” letting him go and stepping back, folding arms over her chest to hide her hurting nipples, giving her breasts a small hidden squeeze to ease some discomfort. “You, uh, just, yeah, save that one for the bedroom. Wow.” Like tonight.

Arlo looked proud, bouncing his eyebrows at her and showing a sexy stare.

She took his hand again, this time in both of hers, and pulled him along, walking backward up the alleyway, an uphill climb leading away from the shops on Dronningens Gade.

Arlo asked, “Where are you taking me, Lily?” His tone was suspicious and had a nice level of Daddy in it—the foreboding kind. What she planned could get her in big, big trouble.

She pulled on Arlo with only one hand now, lengthening her stride, loping ahead with her husband in tow. “You’ll see,” she sang, ahead of them, on both sides of the thin uphill roadway, colonial storefronts in bright pastel colors that reminded her of meringues.

* * *

Sully thought about it a little longer, then looked over at him. “So, you think she’s punishing you?”

That’s not what he’d had in mind, but Sully’s interpretation made Byron pause to think, screwdriver held near his lips, ready to drink. “That’s not what I meant. But is that what you think?”

“I thought that was your point,” Sully said, leaning Byron’s way over the arm of his lounger.

Now it was Byron’s turn for prolonged contemplation, sitting in his lounger, holding his third cocktail of the afternoon and looking out at the Caribbean. They sat on identical loungers on the rear deck of the third level, near the hot tub. They each enjoyed a beverage or two or more, had their shirts off, getting some sun.

“Maybe I’d almost prefer that?” Sully asked him why and he said, “Because then she’d lying about wanting intimacy with Cody, just pretending so she can try to hurt my feelings. You know, the way I hurt her feelings without even knowing I did it.”

Sully said, “I can’t believe she watched you and Carla.”

“Watched us sleeping,” he said.

“More we talk about it, more I think maybe Chey is punishing you.”

“She seemed mad about it, mad about Scarlet, I mean.”

“I’ll see if I can find out from Scar if Chey is legit or not.”

Byron turned to face Sully again, and Sully paused his swig to look back. “What?”

“Would Chey have a reason to be mad if she really does have, gulp, feelings for Cody she might like to explore?”

Sully showed him a face like he was crazy, saying then, “Like what, we had a little marriage ceremony last night, we’re all polyculed up now with the Codester?”

Byron kept a straight face. “Did you?”

“No,” Sully said, drinking, then swallowing, holding his glass on his shorts waistband to protect his skin from the icy cold. “But he did propose.”

“Wow. Down on one knee, the whole deal?”

“Yup,” Sully said, turning his face up to the sun and closing his eyes. “Scar was a little taken aback, but it turns out it’s me Cody wanted. We’re getting hitched in the fall.”

“Aw, Scar. Always the bridesmaid. Still, fall weddings are beautiful. Hope she cheers up by then. . . . Seriously, dick head, what did you guys do last night?”

* * *

What happened last night, Byron?

How would he tell him? How would he put in words what he watched Scarlet do, what he himself participated in; the things that turned him on like crazy last night...

He said, “Cody watched me and Scar have sex.”

“Really. That’s it, that’s all?”

“No, I mean... Scar didn’t have sex with him or anything.” She would have. “Cody helped out.”

“Helped out how?”

“You really want to know?”

“I bet it’s a good story.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I was, you know, doing it with her, and Cody, uh, used his hand to help Scar out a little.”

Byron exhaled. “Hoo. That is kind of hot.”

“Yeah. It sure worked for Scar. . . . You don’t mind me talking about her this way, eh?”

Byron looked his way, eyes peering over the top of his sunglasses. “Please. I should be used to this by now.”

“Still feels a little weird, though.”

“Not at all,” Byron said, turning his face up to the sun again. “Enough’s happened I’m already started to get jaded.”

Sully laughed. “Mr. Big Shot over here, bags Carla Weber, claims to have done a real number on her, too, now he’s over the whole swinging, swapping thing. Fuck, dude, I already bought you a velvet robe for your birthday. What, I gotta return it now?”

“Did it already ship?”

They both chuckled, then went quiet for a moment, soaking in the rays. Then he said it.

“Scar, like... sucked his dick.”

“Cody’s dick?”

“Who else’s dick?”

“No, I know, it’s just, I’m surprised. You made it sound like nothing really happened.”

“That’s something?”

“Your wife sucking another man’s dick? I’d say that’s something.”

Sully stared at Byron, sunning himself, unperturbed now. Chey had put the guy through the wringer, but he got what he wanted last night, and was Joe Cool now. He was kind of envious.

“Sure-sure. I guess. She, uh, he uh... Cody came in her mouth.”

Byron said nothing, still tanning, but then adjusted his shorts like the idea that his friend’s wife sucked another man’s cock while old Sully watched, then that other guy came in her mouth, was arousing.

Shit. It was arousing. He’d watched it happen. He came watching it happen.

He said, “That’s okay, right?”

“What do you mean? Didn’t you guys do that whole thing with Philippe the other night?”

“Yeah, we did. But like...”

Byron rolled his head Sully’s way on the lounger’s pillow. “Like what?”

Sully ruffled his own hair and growled with frustration. “I think I’m fucking getting addicted to it.”

Byron had a good, long laugh.

“I’m serious, dude,” he said, adamant. “It was just so wrong. I mean, so wrong. So, so wrong... and it’s Scarlet. It’s Scarlet doing really bad things.”

“You guys sound like you’re having a blast.”

“I really am. And, whoa, Byron, while she did it, while she sucked Cody’s cock? . . . I was fucking her.”

Byron adjusted his shorts again. “This might be too much for daytime television, buddy.”

But now Sully was worked up, reliving the whole erotic ordeal all over again, the sounds Scarlet made, the way she made love to Cody’s big perfect dick with her mouth, the way her hand squeezed and stroked his cock while he shot his load in her mouth. The way she swallowed it, the sounds of appreciation when she swallowed it...

He jumped up from the lounger, setting his empty glass down on the side table. His cock poked his swim trunks out in a sharp tent. Byron asked him what was wrong, and he said, “Nothing. I just gotta go find Scarlet right away.”

Summer Swap 6-7 (Patreon)

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to discover it was Lily, mugging at him from behind an extravagant velvet eye mask, like something one would wear to an aristocratic costume party during Mardi Gras. Lily’s bright blue eyes peered out behind the eyeholes, the purple mask festooned with sequins and jewels and small black feathers. Under the eye mask, she’d run her little pink tongue out at him.

He guided her wrist down, revealing her smiling face. “How did you know this place was here?”

She tilted her head, coquettish and teasing, chiding him, “Anybody who’s anybody, my dear, knows about the Blackbeard’s Bounty.”

It would seem that Blackbeard’s Bounty was a large shop collecting a wild inventory of sexual materials, tucked away from the main tourist traffic on Dronningens Gade.

He said, “You’re not anybody, baby girl.”

“Touché,” she said, raising her face at a haughty angle.

He looked around now surmising the store’s wares. Neatly organized, proudly presented. The interior was like an old shipping warehouse, brick archways and weathered boards, lazy ceiling fans circling overhead. A throwback to the time the city of Charlotte Amalie was a pirate haven, the harbor’s deep water a lure for those maritime rapscallions. The modern bounty stored here now was neoprene and leather and feathers and whips and vibrating dildos, silicon and phthalate-free PVC; butt plugs and costumes and strap-ons and lubes. And more.

He put his hands on his hips, looking over Lily’s head from where they stood in the elevated foyer. He said, “You’re a little devil.”

“Thank you,” she said, cute and complimented, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him.

“Did you want that mask?”

She stepped back, but showed him a scrunched up nose. “I don’t think so.”

“What can I buy you?”

“I don’t know,” she purred, setting the mask back in place from a rack of similar ones before returning. “Let’s see what we find.”

Hand in hand they stepped down the three shallow steps to the store’s main level and toured the aisles, both of them with keen interest. Ever the rational, he said, “Nothing too expensive because we have to get rid of it. I don’t want to fly home with gear in my bag.”

Lily gasped and let go his hand, skipping ahead, stooping to snatch a large box from a display and running back to show him. She said, “What is it, Daddy?”

His cock stirred at her convincing antics, a low lusty engine kicking to life for this wild woman he married. Inside the box was an enormous dildo, sealed in plastic. This one claimed to be flesh-like, and had every detail a real one would have, even casting the fellow’s wriggly firehose veins and large balls in the mould. He held the box’s clear window to his chest and shook his head. “It’s not for little girls, Lily,” he said.

“Oh,” she mumbled, then pouted and swiveled at the hips the way a disappointed child would. “What’s it for, Daddy?”

He said, “I’m going to put it back.”

Lily followed behind him, talking to herself, saying, “Whatever it was, I liked it. It made me feel funny.”

He chuckled, setting the box back in place at the neat display, and Lily laughed and smacked his bottom.

They continued to shop and peruse. Later, Lily hooked an arm under his and leaned her head on his shoulder. She said, “Do you like being my Daddy?”

He waited for an older Caribbean couple to pass them in an aisle before answering. “Of course I do, jitterbug. I love being your Daddy.”

“Do you always love being my Daddy?”

“Always, baby. Always.”

“You don’t like it sometimes.”

“Oh, when’s that?” He paused at a display of costumes in leather; sadistic looking lace-up corsets and a matching peaked cap with silver chains. They couldn’t get away with that on the yacht. And the set cost half a grand, not exactly disposable when the vacation was over. Still, something about the stark female brutality of it stirred his loins.

Lily said, “Sometimes I make my Daddy squeamish.”

“Sometimes,” he said, “my little girl has too many questions.”

“I’m getting bigger,” she said, like an argumentative child.

“Not that big,” he said. “Not big enough to look at the thing that was in that box.”

He didn’t look at her but sensed her pooching out her adorable lower lip in his periphery.

Then she stepped beside him and took a white leather nurse’s uniform from a rack and held it to her body by the hanger, letting the skirt drape over one leg she put out. He admired the color of her skin against the white leather, and her skinny but shapely leg. She said, “But if I said you didn’t have to be my Daddy, would you be happy?”

He touched the tunic’s white leather lapel. “No.”

Lily checked the costume’s waist, seeing if it would cinch her and amplify her figure the way she sometimes liked. Now she checked herself out in the mirror, posing her leg the same way she’d done for him. “What about if it was only three days or so you didn’t have to be my Daddy?”

He joined her at the mirror, looking at their reflection together. “Well, who would I be?”

She turned to his face, and he looked at her. “My husband.”

“I like being your husband,” he said. “I like that a lot. What do I do as your husband?”

She showed him a lusty, encouraging expression. “Whatever you want.”

He growled in his throat and bounced his eyebrows. “I like that, too.”

She said, “Vanilla sex. Missionary. Whatever my husband wants.”

Now he frowned. “Okay, but why?”

Lily scrunched her nose, asking him of the dress, “Do you like this?”

“It’s hot, but I don’t see you as a nurse.”

“Mm, I like the color.”

“That’s what I liked, too.”

Lily hung the uniform back on the rack and they continued. She said, “Do you think Cheyenne’s attractive?”

“Cheyenne? Ew, gross,” he said and shuddered. “No way.”

She giggled. “You don’t?”

“Always with the baseball hat. Is she in little league? Does she have some misshapen head or something? She should ring the bell at Notre Dame.”

Now Lily asked him, “What about Scarlet?”

“Hideous.,” he proclaimed. “Grotesque. A literal swamp creature.”

“Carla?”

He stopped and rolled his eyes up to the store’s ceiling, thinking. Then a decision: “Sloppy.”

“Sloppy?”

“Oh, yeah. Super sloppy. A mess. . . . You know who’s the hottest girl on the boat, though?” He took Lily’s face in his hands.

Her pooched out fish-lips said, “Are you going to say Paloma?”

He laughed and kissed those lips, then let her go. “No way. Paloma’s got like spots all over her.”

“Spots?”

“Like dots.”

“Freckles.”

He turned to look at Lily. “Freckles? More like warts. She probably missed the first week of the trip because she was busy cooking children in a big cauldron in the forest.”

Lily giggled again, trotted to catch up, and hugged him. She said, “They’re doing weird stuff with each other and they do it behind our backs. Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Lily. They don’t do it all behind our backs. Some of it they do with us. Like the cards and stuff.”

“They do way worser behind our backs.”

“Worser? Little Lily, that’s not a word and you know it. You don’t know words like ‘squeamish,’ and not know worser is wrong.”

Lily defied him, raising her voice so others might hear her. “Way, way worser, Daddy!”

He hunched his back and raised his shoulders, leaving her behind. Lily laughed and trotted again to keep up with him.

She said, “Don’t they like us?”

“They like us a lot, Lily,” he said, stopping in the books and games section. “They think we’re too nice for them. They don’t want to offend us.”

“Or corrupt us. They do some really bad things.”

He said, “We’re incorruptible, Lily. We’re the good guys.”

“They’re definitely the bad guys,” she said.

Then she steadied herself like she had a big thing she had to say. He closed the book he was riffling through and looked at her. “Do you want to do bad things?”

“You know, uh, sometimes Daddy’s a bad Daddy.”

“Daddy can get mad sometimes,” he agreed.

“Sometimes little girls can make their Daddies mad by being obnoxious little brats.”

“Sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he said, nodding, emphasizing the word to sarcastically insinuate it was more like all the time. But she was so damned cute. He brought the big paperback book of sexual positions over her head and pretended to bonk her with it. She scrunched up her face and let him.

When he opened his book again, she asked, “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to do bad things?”

“I already told you, those swamp hags don’t interest me in any way.”

She chuckled. “They’re not swamp hags, they’re our friends.”

“They could shake their titties in my face and show me their cooch and I wouldn’t even twitch.”

Lily looked disgusted. “Gross, Daddy.”

“So, don’t ask gross questions.” He put the book down and faced her, touching her chin so she would look at him. “We’ve talked about this. You said you didn’t want to. It’s a big step, Lily. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t like being left out.”

“That’s not a reason to join in. That’s called peer pressure. You have to tell me you really want to do those things and not that you don’t like others doing them without you.”

“You’re so smart, Daddy.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Do bad girls get punished?”

“Bad girls are taught a lesson, yes.”

“Does it stop them from being bad?”

“You tell me. I discipline you. Are you still bad?”

She showed him a slow, creeping smile of malevolence. Her hand squeezed his cock and balls and he grunted, laughing and stepping away. “We’re going to get kicked out of here, Lily.”

She furrowed her brows like she was desperate. “What was that I felt, Daddy? What was that thing?”

He waved her away, trying to look superior and in charge, but could feel the heat on his cheeks. “So, listen, Lily. If you want to play with your friends, tell me your plans.”

She pranced away, looking through board games and party games. She turned to face him, her skirt swishing around her tanned legs. His cock was filling up right now. He adjusted his shorts.

She said, “We could start with some good games. They play boring ones. The closet thing was funny, but we could be having more fun.”

“Okay,” he said, accepting it. “That’s a good start. What else? What else is it you want to do?”

She looked more adult for a moment, saying, “Do you trust me, Arlo?”

“Always, Lily.”

“Will you play along with me?”

“Have I ever let you down?”

“Not once, ever,” she said with a small bureaucratic nod.

He said, “Then let’s get a few things for a party.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, when they had as much as they thought they could have fun with and get home safely on a scooter across this mountainous island and then a jet ski out to the yacht, they brought their things to the checkout counter.

As the cashier rang their things up, Lily leaned on the counter looking at Arlo, making lovey eyes at him. Then some big thing occurred to her out of the blue and she whipped around to the cashier, a graying Carib man in his fifties with a white Havana shirt. She said, “Oh, hi, umm... My mom called earlier, like this morning, her name’s Lily and she, um, ordered something to be put away...”

The heat returned to Arlo’s cheeks as Lily toyed with her babygirl in public.

The man said someone called and reached under the counter, poking things around to make space to bring out a plain cardboard shipping box about the size and shape of a loaf of bread. Lily hefted it and gave the box a shake, something heavy shifting around inside. “Good,” she said. “My Mom didn’t say what it was.” She let the statement hang in the air, but the man wouldn’t answer it as a question, freaked out by Lily’s childish antics.

Arlo told the man, “Whatever it is, just ring it up with these other things. I’ll pay for it.”

Now he’d have to worry about what was in the box all the way back to the yacht, knowing Lily wouldn’t tell him until she wanted to.

Summer Swap 6-8 (Patreon)

On this beautiful, glorious Caribbean day, she wasn’t going to let the yacht’s soap opera cloud her over. The sun baked her oiled skin, scorched her flesh and filled her with the sun’s powerful energy.

No one got it. No one understood.

Maybe she could explain it better, but whenever she tried, no one listened. They all put their walls up.

No one could see what was happening around them like she could. This was more than swinging. The events on the boat so far this summer were costumed as swinging, swapping, a little naughty fun. But there was so much more going on. The sign of a higher IQ came in the ability to understand complex systems, as if seeing them from above. Maybe none of the others were as smart as her.

Or maybe she was wrong.

Wouldn’t that be something? Talk about egg on your face.

She wasn’t wrong, though. And as much as it hurt to see Byron so intimate—so happy—with another woman, she couldn’t ignore the beauty in it. The happiness Byron felt when he was with Carla wasn’t a bad thing. The bad thing was her own hurt feelings. Hurt feelings were natural. And it took an elevated understanding of swinging to surpass them.

It’s what separated a poly relationship from swinging.

Emotion. Intimacy.

Big girl games. Big boy games.

The whole point of Cody’s summer charade, if you asked her.

But if you fucking asked her, why wouldn’t you listen to her answer?

Fucking Scarlet.

Fucking Scarlet and Cody and a worthless blow job.

She put in her ear buds and played some vintage Tribe, closed her eyes and soaked up some rays.

* * *

Sully’s eyes were on her naked backside as she changed out of her shorts. Then his hands, smoothing over her ass and her waist, his crotch pushing between her butt cheeks. Through his fly, she could feel how rock hard her husband was right now. Still: tough shit, Sully.

He tried to sweet talk her. “We put a Do Not Disturb sign on our door, baby. Come on...”

Scarlet wriggled away from him, pushing back an elbow to give her some space. “No. I want the cleaners to do our room. Look, I’m trying to get my bottoms on. Would you please...”

Now he thumped back against the wall in front of her, giving her his sexy James Dean face, looking her up and down. She covered her crotch with a hand. He said, “You turn me on so fucking much, Scar.”

A little flame flickered under her ribs somewhere and she smiled. Just a little. But still, Sully: no way.

She picked up her bikini bottoms and ran them around in her hands, looking for the back, then stepped her legs through the leg holes. Sully tried to touch her vagina before she got the bottoms up and she smacked his hand. He sniggered and looked at her with narrow, lusty eyes.

She said, “Do you know how sore I am?” Horse-cock Philippe the night before, then her husband a bunch of times last night when she knew she should have rested. She wanted to go swimming, soak in the salt water, try to soothe some of her aches. But this fucking guy she married was a sexed-up warthog today.

Sully scoffed, like she was no fun, a prude. He said, “What a whiner.”

Now she scoffed bigger, out-scoffed him. Then she flicked her hand between his legs, getting him right in the bean bag with a snap of her fingers. He buckled and groaned, hurt-laughing the whole time.

She said to his hunched over back, “That’s how sore I am. No, like that, but ten times worse.”

He duck-walked to the bed and lay on it like a shrimp. Now she felt a little bad. “You okay?”

His face looked pained, and he rolled to his back and drew down his zipper, shimmied his shorts down to mid-thigh, his cock standing up one hundred percent hard. “I think you need to kiss it better.” He thumbed it upright, a vein-scribbled tower.

She laughed at him, then did him a favor, pulling up her T-shirt and revealing her braless, naked breasts. Sully said whoa and grabbed his shaft.

“Get a grip, please,” she said and pulled her bikini top off the hook where it hung on the wall.

“I have a grip. Now what?”

She settled her top in place and tied the bikini strings behind her back while Sully watched it all. “The cleaners are here, Sully. We’re going swimming. Get that big rod of yours in some swim trunks and let’s go outside, please.”

He let his cock go and his head fell back to the mattress in defeat. He said to the ceiling, “I can’t help it. I can’t get that blow job you gave Cody out of my mind.”

She grabbed his trunks from another hook and tossed them like a ring, like she was looking to hook it on his dick. It fell flat on top and covered him up. “Get your trunks on.”

“My stomach hurts so bad right now.”

“Sorry I whacked you.”

“Ah, that was kind of hot. I already had blue balls.”

“Sully, the cleaners will be here for three hours or so. You can’t wait three hours?”

His arms fell to the side, and he still stared upward, his trunks laying humped over his boner. “That blow job, Scar.”

She snuffled a small laugh. “I do that for you.”

“You made love to that cock, baby. You couldn’t get enough of it. It was so fucking sexy.”

“I can’t get enough of yours either, baby.”

Sully groaned and sat up, hand going to his crotch, coddling his package, his features scrunching. “Sure you can. You won’t even kiss it better after whacking it. One of my balls hasn’t even come down yet.”

She said, “I’m not sucking you off while the cleaners are here.”

Sully sighed, looked at her. “Don’t like to work under high pressure environments, huh? Are these the CSUNY 487 rules?” He stood up and let his shorts fall, holding the trunks to cover his arousal.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Sully held up his trunks now, like her a minute before, looking for the back. His erect cock stood out from under the hem of his T-shirt. “You know,” he said, “the Cock Suckers Union of New York. Local 487.” He stepped into his trunks.

She sighed with exasperation. “This is why I don’t suck your cock. ‘Cause you’re an idiot.”

He pulled his trunks up and snapped the waistband, his erection showing through the trunks. He squeezed it through the material and showed her a dubious expression. “Some people call me charming.”

She tossed him a beach towel. “Those people don’t spend as much time with you as I do.”

He strolled toward her, undeterred by her ill treatment, and the look in his eyes this time did set that small fire burning hotter, getting the flames higher, teasing her with thoughts of locking the door and spending an hour playing with each other. He said, “They just can’t handle the heat, baby. No one gets me like you do.”

She smiled and rubbed his chest. “I’m going to suck that big cock of yours.”

“Oh yeah, you are?”

“Yeah. When the cleaners get off the boat.”

He corrected her. “Ship.”

She exhaled through her nostrils and glared. “Fucking ship then, jeez. You want it or not? Because I’m telling you I’m going to make love to it, I’m going to do all those things I did for Cody.” She wanted to grab his cock right now, palm the underside, but knew neither of them could stop themselves once she did that.

Sully said, “Am I going to come down your throat like Cody did? You going to swallow me up like a good girl?”

Her cheeks burned and the back of her neck prickled with heat. She stepped back before her fire got so big they both went up in flames. “Easy, easy, tiger. Hoo. I said later.”

Now Sully started to claim the upper hand, smug-smiling, saying, “I’m starting to think I could convince you to do it right now. Look at your nipples, babe”—he nodded to her chest—“look at those happy little ladies stretching out to greet me.” He thumbed over her left nipple, the stroke of his pad protected by the satiny spandex making her butthole zing for some reason. She shuddered and knocked his hand away, butterflies in her stomach now.

He raised an eyebrow. “How about an underwater blow job?”

She backed toward their bedroom door. “In the salt water?”

He said, “I’ll give you some salt water.”

She turned up her nose. Semen? She said, “Gross.”

Sully laughed and nodded his head, knowing that was a little too much. “Sorry. I’m so horny right now.”

“Too horny,” she said, her back touching the door. “And”—she turned the door lever—“the more you beg me for a blow job, the more I want to hold it over your head like a big dangling carrot and make you do whatever I want for you to get it.”

She swung the door open and trotted out of Sully’s grasp, getting into the hall and only losing her towel to him. She said, “Who knows, maybe if you treat me well, I might give in. Best I can offer is a saltwater hand job...”

Sully wasn’t looking at her, his face turned down the hall with a frozen expression of mild incomprehension. She reclaimed her towel and turned to see what had his attention.

It was Cheyenne.

It was Cheyenne walking down the hall toward them, phone in hand, heading to the stairs up to the kitchen, coming from the backside deck, and she wasn’t wearing a single article of clothing. Not even her ball cap. Buck naked. Not a stitch. Every bit of flesh exposed in oily suntanned glory. Her breasts jostled and bounced, her trim torso rippled.

Scarlet looked to her husband, who had no shame watching Cheyenne, no sense to avert his gaze, his head oscillating to watch this naked beauty walk by. She turned back to Cheyenne, who pretended like they weren’t even there. Even as she passed by, she rolled only a mild gaze their way but didn’t acknowledge them. Chey was still mad. She strutted past with nary a chin nod or a tepid hello, just an arrogant lift to her chin, like they didn’t matter. Padded right by in bare feet, looking very sexy, Sully still watching, looking at Chey’s bouncy butt cheeks jostle with each step. The left one, the right one, the left one...

She elbowed him and he snapped out of it. He came to, shaking his head, then calling out to Cheyenne’s naked back, “Chey! Chey, the cleaners are here.”

Scarlet told him, “She can’t hear you, she’s got her ear buds in.”

And as Sully went to catch up with Cheyenne, Scarlet pulled the back of his shirt, keeping her husband in place. He looked at her, puzzled.

“Let her go, let her make her own mistakes. I’m done helping her out.”

* * *

Let them look. Yeah, she was naked. She was freer than the lot of them.

She’d stiffed them walking past, which felt good, but also came with its own guilt. She wasn’t even mad at Sully—but Sully married that two-timer. That two-timer who was her best friend.

Whatever.

She had one more chance to say hello, turning around at the end of the hall and marching up the stairs to the next level where the kitchen was. She even looked over the hand railing, thinking if she saw Scarlet and Sully, she might stick her tongue out this time. But they hadn’t caught up with her far enough down the hall for her to see them.

Well, she’d get them in the kitchen, she figured, coming to the top of the stairs and—

“Whoa,” she shouted, skidding on the top step from her slick foot bottoms. “Should have worn sandals.” Couldn’t even hear herself over “Left My Wallet in El Segundo” beating in her ears through the noise cancelling ear buds Byron bought her last Christmas. Looked up, going more careful now into the kitchen and—

Three Carib men stood in the kitchen carrying crates of resupplied beer, dressed in khaki shorts and pressed white button-ups, looking at her with eyes bright and round as the moon. Another one had a forearm draped over a dolly by the island, a Spanish man, his eyes the same. A toothpick fell from his mouth. She screeched. She covered her bare breasts. She turned her back. She covered her ass. She ran—

Not down the fucking stairs, you dolt, you’ll go down them on your slippery feet like an Olympic ski jumper, crash through the glass dining room table at the bottom of the stairs or take out Scarlet and Sully like a couple of bowling pins!

So she exited stage right, heading away from the kitchen and into the hall that led between the upstairs suites—

And right into a woman running a vacuum cleaner on the floor. Two more behind her carrying bundles of dirty laundry. She hollered again, ready to run through a wall to get out of here, leave a cutout shaped like her naked body if she had to, dive down to the bottom of the sea and live inside a giant clam for a year.

She lunged for the nearest door, aware of her breasts shaking and bouncing, her butt doing the same thing, yanked the door open and jumped inside—feet slipping again. But she didn’t go down. Door slammed closed, she put her back to it, chest heaving, body glistening with sweat and coconut scented tanning oil.

It was the bathroom. Not an ensuite, but the nice one with a big circular tub. There was the sound of splashing, and she realized she’d lost one of her ear buds in the naked kerfuffle on the other side of the door.

Cody stood before the toilet with his mighty hose stretched out of his fly, sending a stream into the bowl. He looked over his shoulder at her, not surprised, not offended, just casual, like lots of people rushed into the bathroom to watch him drain the main vein.

“Oh hey, Chey,” he said, languid and cool, eyes half-lidded. “Bathroom’s kind of occupado right now. . . . You know you’re naked, right?”

Summer Swap 6-9 (Patreon)

She folded her arms over her chest, her cheeks burning, her heart racing. How embarrassing. How dumb. How utterly idiotic. Cody had said the cleaners were coming today at two. He’d even said it yesterday, too. And this morning, right before she’d gone on her tirade with Scarlet.

She crossed one leg over the other, leaning her greasy back on the door. “I’m a laughingstock.”

Cody zipped up and then flushed the toilet. He went to the sink to wash his hands, his eyes on her from the mirror’s reflection. “How so, Chey?”

“You said the cleaners were coming today, and I forgot.”

He chuckled, scrubbing his hands. “I thought you were having fun. You mean you forgot, and you walked around naked?” He laughed again, shaking his head.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny. There were three guys in the kitchen.”

“You just made their summer.”

“I’m not trying to make anybody’s summer, I just wanted a drink.”

“So go get a drink.” He shut off the water and dried his hands, turning to face her, his eyes roaming her body.

She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, “I’m so embarrassed.”

“I thought this was your thing, Chey. Letting people look.”

“Not when it’s a surprise. Not when I walk into a bunch of men I don’t know and I’m not expecting it. . . . Can you pass me a towel, please?”

He held his hand-drying towel down at his thigh, shrugging. “This one’s dirty. I just used it.”

“Like I care, Cody. Throw it or pass me another. Please.”

Cody looked over his shoulder at the stack of white towels folded on the shelf by the counter. “Maids were just in here. These are all clean. You’re all oily.”

She huffed a very small laugh, some of the tension of her incident easing away, locked safe in this room with Cody, who was obviously playing around with her. “So I can’t have a clean towel or a dirty towel?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve got me in quite a conundrum.”

“Nothing to it, Chey. You look a thousand times better without a towel, just all slick and oily.” His eyes wandered and his smile widened.

“Just the same, Cody, I think I’d be happier covered up.”

“This summer’s about challenges and adventure. You know you like to show it off. Hell, if it weren’t for the cleaners, it might be you and me having this conversation in the kitchen, two pals who’ve done quite a lot together and you wouldn’t be covering up one bit, I bet. Why don’t you put your arms don, for a start.”

Why was she covering up? She did like to be naked. She’d been naked with Cody a lot. She’d had sex with the guy, for crying out loud. She stood up from the door, hands still in her armpits, looking at him. “I guess you’re right,” she said, eyeballing him with a newfound confidence. “I just have to—”

She whipped her hand out from her arm pit and looked at her phone. The music still played, but she’d heard every word Cody said. Her hand whipped up and snatched out her left ear bud. No more sound. She grabbed the other ear. “Oh fuck,” she said, looking at Cody, wide-eyed.

“What is it?”

“I lost my ear bud.” On the other side of the door, she could hear the maid still vacuuming. “Cody, please get it.”

He said, “Where did you lose it?”

“Between here and the top of the stairs. It must have popped out when I ran from the kitchen.”

“So just outside?”

“Yeah. Please?”

“Just outside the door? You go, I’ll give you cover.”

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, shoulders slumping. “Please don’t do this.” She saw the position she was in and already knew Cody wouldn’t relent. There was too much humor in the moment. If she’d got Byron naked in a room like this, she definitely would make him run out naked to retrieve something he wanted. She tried for sympathy. “Please, Cody, please. C’mon. I’d do it for you.”

“The hell you would. Better hurry up, sounds like you might lose it to the vacuum in about ten seconds.” Now he hummed the Mission: Impossible theme in his throat, smiling mean and lascivious.

“Byron got them for me.” No effect, he just chuckled so much he broke up his theme song.

“Seriously, Cody, please? The maids don’t want to see me like this.”

“It’s just a quick dash, Chey. In and out. You’re going to go, so go now, go before your ear bud ends up in the belly of the whale.”

“Cody, please? They’re expensive.”

“They sure are. It’s outrageous what they charge. What were you listening to, anyway?”

She fell back on the door again and beat the back of her head against it in frustrated taps. “You are such a fucking jerk.”

“Hey, you’re the one who jumped in here when I was vulnerable. Didn’t even knock. I had my boy out in my hand, too. Imagine my chagrin if I’d been doing a number two.”

“Why don’t you lock the door?”

“Lock’s broken.”

“Fuck’s sake,” she sighed, wishing there was another way out of this, but facing the fact she was going to have to go back out there again fully naked.

“That vacuum sounds close,” Cody said, his expression pulling into a comical mask of worry.

He’d come closer, and now she stood upright once more, and uncovered her breasts, fanning her hands toward him, saying, “Can you step back, please? I guess if there’s not a man in the house, I’ll have to do this myself.”

“Chivalry died a long time ago, m’lady. You ready?”

“I thought you were a gentleman, but I guess I was wrong.”

Cody smiled and hummed Mission: Impossible again.

“Fucking asshole,” she said, flashed a confident sneer his way, handing over her phone, and in a shining moment of bravado, yanked open the door, ready to step outside—

But with the door open, the vacuum was loud and close, and from the threshold she could see into the kitchen. There were at least two of the guys still there, restocking their supplies, cupboard doors open. Shit, no, three guys—one of them had crouched to put something in a lower cupboard. She hesitated, her body weight on her toes.

Cody, right behind her: “Now’s your chance, Chey—they’re facing the other way. Go, go, go, go...”

Her ear bud was a dozen feet away, a white dot on the floor, right at the top of the stairs. She darted out, not even looking to the left toward the maid with the vacuum, her eyes on the guys in the kitchen, crouching down as she got close, stooping, swiping up her ear bud, then running for her life back to the bathroom door, not caring if the men saw her backside. But the maid watched her, and didn’t appear amused or entertained in any way. Why would she?—some dumb tourist up to no good in her homeland.

“Hi, sorry,” she said, trotting, jiggling, and then held up the ear bud for some reason, like the woman would see it and fill in all the gaps of the scenario and know that there was a roguish multi-millionaire in the bathroom who liked to play kinky games with her. “God,” she squeaked, throwing herself against the door, exploding with amazing shame and—

The door was locked. No.

No, no, no.

She jerked the lever back and forth, fucking knowing he’d locked it.

“Cody, open the door!”

His muffled voice: “Occupado.”

“Cody, open this fucking door.”

Cody, confused: “Chey?”

“Cody, I will fucking kill you. I’m not kidding, if you don’t open the fucking door I will fucking straight-up fucking kill you.”

“Wow, sounds like I better keep this door locked.”

“Cody, please,” she said, smacking the door with a futile, greasy palm. The maid watched her, and she was sure the men from the kitchen were watching her now, too. “You said the lock was broken.”

“I did?”

She was laughing and crying at the same time, consumed by a bewildering mix of wild emotion.

Now Cody said, “While you’re out there, could you grab me a water, please, Chey?”

She was bouncing on her toes, trying to become merged with the door she pressed her body against it so hard. “Cody, please, just get a drink from the tap. Just cup your hands and drink from the tap, please.”

“I’m not drinking yacht water, Chey, that’s how you get Legionnaire’s Disease.”

“Cody, please, I’m begging you...”

“Chey, get me a mineral water, please. I’m so thirsty. If you bring me a mineral water, I swear I’ll let you in.”

She whimpered and groaned, smiling just the same, covering her face with a palm and shaking her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder to the kitchen to witness three curious men watching a naked woman locked out of the bathroom. At least when she looked, they looked away and pretended to be working.

Cody: “You like showing it off, so go show it off.”

“You’re so cruel.”

“I’m right here behind you, Chey, nothing bad will happen. You’ll give those guys a big thrill.”

“It’s not one they asked for,” she moaned, rolling her forehead on the door and thumping her fist on it in weak demand.

“Sure they did. In their dreams they did.”

“No, Cody, it’s too much.”

The door unlocked and opened, but before she could scramble in, she was taken aback by Cody filling the threshold. He’d stripped buck naked. Tanned and muscular and gorgeous, big pendulous penis, broad shoulders; he looked down on her like she was a peasant, saying, “Guess if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.” He fanned her out of his way. “Can you step aside, ma’am?—there’s a gentleman in town now.”

Her hand went over her mouth and as Cody stepped into the hall, she scooted for cover in the bathroom doorway, turning to watch him go. He waved to the maid, saying to her, “Hey, how you doing? Nice to see you,” then continued toward the kitchen. His back muscles rippled, his perfect ass cheeks went up and down. She darted a look to the left to see the maid with the vacuum, with eyes like perfect cartoon circles, her jaw slack. Another maid not far behind her had dropped a load of clean laundry. She followed Cody to get an eyeful more.

Chey laughed and covered her mouth with both hands, watching into the kitchen, the three men who were eager to see her naked not having any interest in Cody and his muscles and his big dick. To them, he said, “Hey, guys, what’s up? Nice day, huh?”

They nodded and grumbled greetings, averting their eyes and getting very busy all of a sudden. Cody went to the fridge.

Fuck it.

She put her ear bud by where Cody left her phone, and now she followed Cody’s tracks, going into the kitchen as naked as him, looking at the guys—who were excited that she showed up, after having to see naked male perfection—saying to them, “Hi, guys, we’ll just be a sec.”

Cody had the fridge open, and he looked over his shoulder at her. His turquoise eyes showed such gleaming approval her heart soared. She could play too. They could play together.

She said, “Could you grab me a water, too, please?”

“How about an ice cold beer?”

“Perfect.”

Cody brought out two frosty bottles of beer, carrying them with the necks between the fingers of a large muscular hand. He left the kitchen, and she followed, close enough to the ogling men she could touch them—or they could touch her. Cody bypassed the eating area and stepped outside onto the promenade deck, and she hustled to join him. Once in the sun and out of the yacht, they both broke up in quiet laughter.

He shuddered then, saying, “God, that was crazy.”

“You’re a maniac,” she said, still laughing. “You should have seen those maids watching you.”

He said, “You ready to get the fuck out of here?”

“I sure am,” she said, wondering where they would go.

Cody, still holding their beers, climbed over the hand railing and stood on the other side. He said, “Last one to the bottom’s a rotten egg,” then jumped backward, plummeting maybe twenty feet to the water. She watched his glorious nudity the whole way down until he disappeared in a splash.

Then she hiked a leg over, too, and dove to join him.

Summer Swap 6-10 (Patreon)

They sat side by side at the back of the yacht, two naked people with a bottle of beer each, skin wet, hot sun baking them dry again. Once she’d come to the surface after her brave dive into the water, she’d followed behind Cody, swimming fast to catch up and show she was quick and athletic, going around to the back of the ship to where the swimming deck was, and they’d put their bare bottoms on the ridge of the boat bay, where the jet skis came in and out of the yacht’s hull. It put them hip deep in the water, their feet kicking in the bluish turquoise while they drank. Sea water splashed her naked tummy, but the sun heated her face and shoulders until they were hot to the touch.

They made small talk and funny talk, but at last she had the courage to say to him, “Byron had quite the night last night. We’re going to have to get our turn again soon.”

“Name the night,” he said, chuckled and took a swig of beer.

Which was a good sign, but she didn’t think he would say no to sex. He wasn’t that kind of guy. She said, “Did Carla tell you how it went?”

“With Byron?—yeah. He did a number on her. He’s a good dude. He played the games she loves the most.”

“Like roleplaying?”

Cody nodded and hummed an affirmative sound in his throat.

“I saw them and they weren’t roleplaying.”

“You saw them?” His face lit up with mischievous glee. “What, you spied on them?”

She took a drink. “Look, thanks for the pep talk last night. I appreciated it. I walked around to clear my head...”

“Whoa, and what, you saw them out on the deck?—Oh, wait, no, yeah, Carla said you were there in the morning. Did you watch them or did you stumble into them?”

“Watched them for a bit.”

“And what do you mean they weren’t roleplaying?”

“I guess that part was over and they were doing the pillow talk stuff. As Carla and Byron.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“I thought so, too.”

“Did you watch them fucking?”

She showed him a sour face, scrunching up her nose. Cody laughed.

He said, “Never mind. Whatever you did, you did. So, what, is there something wrong?”

“Not at all,” she said, though she supposed there kind of was something wrong. “It was sweet.”

“Oh,” he said, long and drawn out and full of ribald knowing. “I see, I see.”

“You see what?”

“You want to go again and you don’t want any roleplaying.”

She was surprised, and she showed him by smiling and letting her mouth drop open, shocked at his insight. “See? See, you get me, Cody.”

He laughed, swaying back and forth, then bumping her with his huge round shoulder. “It’s still kind of roleplaying.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You’re roleplaying, not roleplaying.”

She squinted. “What?”

“Think about it.”

She shook her head like she was disappointed in him. “Just when I think you get me.”

He laughed and took a drink, then held the beer bottle between his tanned knees, water splashing up with the waves, his fingers playing with the bottle’s label. “I get you, Chey.” Then he looked at her and smiled, his eyes narrowed by the intense sunlight, his blond hair gone dark with seawater but the sun drying some bright gold twists. “I’m down for it. Tell me what you want.”

“Carla and Byron were just Carla and Byron.”

“Just friends.”

“Right. Human beings, not characters.”

Cody nodded. “It’s hot.”

She betrayed some of her angst earned watching her husband cozying up with a gorgeous, sexy woman, all swooping curves, platinum blonde hair, all female, no tomboy, no athleticism but for obvious high-horsepower fucking and baby making, and plump lips meant for heavy-duty cock sucking.

Cody seemed to see some of that in her eyes. “Carla said Byron was the best guy to her. Like, a gentleman, as much as a gentleman as you could be in some green-flagged extra-marital play.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. Byron’s always the good guy.”

His eyes narrowed in contemplation. “You think that makes you the bad guy?”

She shrugged and showed him a meek expression. “Does it?”

“I don’t know, Chey. Does it matter? Own it. Whatever it is, own it. Everyone loves you, too, babe—”

“Not everyone.”

“Yeah, everyone,” he said, annoyed by her objection, like it was immature. “Own it. Own who you are. That motherfucker who had sex with my wife last night, what’s-his-name?”

She laughed and said, “Byron.”

“Yeah, that guy. The guy that everybody loves. That guy loves you. Loves you like crazy. So, look, if the guy that everybody loves loves you, it’s like he vouches for you. You don’t have to change, you don’t have to be somebody else. . . . What do you have to do?”

He said it like the answer was obvious, but she didn’t see it. “What do I have to do?”

“That’s what you have to figure out.”

“Some help you are.” Now she bumped her tiny shoulder against his. The skin contact was fantastic and got her heartbeat quickening. She loved close contact with Cody, loved spending time with him.

“I’m kidding. I already told you.”

She turned to him, watched him guzzle the last of his beer, his head back, neck strong and muscular, his Adam’s apple going up and down. “When? When did you tell me?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, then he faced her. “Chey, you’re perfect the way you are. Be yourself.”

“That’s all I can be.”

He said, “Then be that with me.”

“And you say that’s roleplaying, being yourself?”

He shook his head, smirking. “This is a heavy talk, man.” He pushed back from the ridge and back paddled in the well of the automatic doorway for the jet skis, getting himself to the swimming deck. “Let’s take this topside.”

She watched as he put his empty bottle on the swimming deck and pulled himself to stand in one powerful yet graceful motion, up and onto the deck, walking, pulling the hair back from his face. His body was so incredible and she loved to watch it. She followed him, swimming into the bay’s well and pulling herself onto the swimming deck with a little less athleticism.

There were two large loungers on this deck, feet apart, and Cody sat on one. She sat on the same one, both of them in direct hot sunlight. She finished her beer and set the bottle on the deck. Cody lay back on the lounger, two feet still on the deck at the lounger’s side. She regarded him over her shoulder, his muscular midsection rippling, putting his big arms behind his head, looking at her with lazy eyes. He said, “I was here first, babe.”

“You don’t want to share?”

His eyes roamed her naked back. “You think I want to be alone when I can be with someone like you?”

“Someone like me, or me?”

He nodded his head aside for her to join him. The lounger was oversized, padded and comfortable and wide enough for two, though it would be a tight squeeze.

* * *

The first sign of trouble was Paloma’s unsmiling face. No snide good morning or comical appraisal of him and Scarlet arriving on the sunshine scene after rebuffing Paloma’s and Philippe’s advances last night—though he was innocent of any insult that rebuffing might have caused, because he was up for sex with Paloma with no reservations of any kind.

He and Scar arrived poolside on the yacht’s rear deck, fourth level, and while Philippe smiled at seeing them—smirked, really—Paloma disregarded them.

Under his breath, he said to Scarlet, “Uh-oh,” and Scarlet told him to, “Relax.”

He let Scarlet lead, showing Philippe a sly smile and giving him a what’s-up-buddy head nod. Philippe returned it. Paloma regarded them over top of her glasses, then lowered her gaze again to her tablet.

God damn she was smoking hot, laid out on a lounger baring most of her skin and soaking up the rays. She was German and Brazilian or some shit, maybe Portuguese; whatever she was, you didn’t often see women who looked like her. Just this wild mixed-bag of sultry and exotic parts, like some sort of Frankenstein sex goddess made up of all these sexy female scraps collected from around the globe. Her diffidence, though he was sure it was put on, hurt his feelings because he wanted to engage with her, wanted to get close to her. Wanted to finish up the thing that started last night, but Scarlet had put a stop to.

Scarlet picked a duo of loungers close to Philippe and Paloma, not beside them, but not on the other side of the pool, either. They sat down, feeling Paloma’s chill, and not speaking. But when they were stretched out together, he leaned closer to Scarlet and said, “I’m having trouble remembering why we didn’t mess around with them last night again.”

Scarlet put her Wayfarers on and glanced in Paloma’s direction. “Yeah, she’s very hot, buddy. I hope I didn’t ruin your chance with her.”

“You better not have.” He didn’t like the amused smile Scarlet showed, like she wouldn’t be too crestfallen if he never got his shot with Paloma.

She said, “We’re not going to get pushed around, Sully, my boy. All in due time. If it’s to be, it will be.”

“She says after a threesome with her husband and Philippe.”

Scarlet rolled her head his way and her eyes shone at him from over the top of her sunglasses. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“So do aching blue balls.”

She smiled at him, getting dominant in the way he liked. “You’ve been a good boy, and I’m going to make sure you get your cookie.”

* * *

They lay naked together in a way that seemed okay and terrible at the same time. Like innocent and yet if Byron came down the stairs to the swimming deck, she would scramble to put some distance between her and Cody. Right now, there was no distance between them. Right now, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between them. Their hot and wet skin was pasted together at the sides, hip to hip, ribs to ribs, her titty to his muscular pec, their nipples almost French kissing. It was very wrong and yet very right—their bodies stuck together like a perfect fit between tanned puzzle pieces.

Cody’s legs were parted, and she got a spectacular view down the rugged landscape of his heavenly body; the cliff side of his chest, the undulating slopes of his abdominal muscles, the stark hip-crest valley that led to the Devil’s Tower. Only the Devil’s Tower was absent today, not yet erected, hanging down between his open legs where she couldn’t see it.

She said, “This was how they were when I watched them.”

“Carla and your hubby?”

“Yeah. Only they were cuddled up under a blanket.”

“Maybe we’d be under a blanket if it wasn’t ninety degrees.”

“Sounds cozy,” she said, taking advantage of the innocent idle talk to put an arm hugging over his torso, climbing the inside of her thigh over his leg. She turned her face up to look at his. “Is it too hot to be this close?”

He scoffed like that was a ridiculous statement. “Never.”

“That’s what I think, too,” she said, now bringing up that arm from his middle and reaching for the sky like she was stretching, showing off a bare breast to him, exposing herself. But of course, he’d seen plenty of her naked body; that’s how they ended up jumping off the yacht in their crazy escape plan.

“What’s so funny?”

She put her arm down, lower this time, her hand touching that hip valley on the other side of his body, liking the smoothness, the heat on his skin, running her fingertips back and forth. “I can’t believe we jumped off the yacht.”

“That was nothing,” he said. “You wanna go try it from the top deck?”

“Um, no. I never want to do that.” She chuckled again, watching her fingers on his masculine body, protracting her fingers’ path, going from hip bone to the dip that led to where his penis hung now. “You’re pretty courageous.”

“Carla says I’m just too dumb to see danger.”

“Aw,” she said, laughing, “that’s so mean.” Her fingers slipped down into the steep seam between his legs, all four finger pads and thumb finding the supple shaft of his penis. Cody didn’t stop her; didn’t even flinch. She massaged his cock, drawing her fingers down its sleepy length, the suntan oil making her flesh drag on his.

“Or maybe accurate.”

“So, you’re just lucky you’ve made it this far alive? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Thank you. There’s reckless and then there’s reckless, you know?”

“There are not many men I’d jump off a yacht with.” Now she lifted his weighty meat up and lay it on his hip, watched it roll, the skin around the glans riffling. He had the best looking penis she’d ever seen.

“Well, it’s a pretty rare scenario. You’d have to be on many yachts with many men and have many reasons to even jump off in the first place.”

She snuffled a small laugh and pressed her soft lips on his hard shoulder, watching her fingers play with his penis. She said, “Just the same, I think it’s safe to say that you could get me to do anything. And I mean anything.” Her fingers plied and pulled on his cock, the thing inflating, getting fatter in the middle first for some reason.

“Even when you shouldn’t?” His voice had gone huskier, lustier.

She lay her palm over his growing manhood and looked up to his face again. “Maybe you and I have something else in common.”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe I’m just too dumb to see danger.”

Summer Swap 6-11 (Patreon)

Cody watched her tease his growing penis, smiling, eyes twinkling with adventure. He looked around a moment, then said to her, “When these cleaners get out of here, why don’t we take this inside?”

She could take his offer as a deterrent for her to quit playing with his privates, a reminder to her that there were people nearby, but she didn’t think that was his intent. He really would go inside with her and spend some time pursuing pleasure. She said, “That’s a great idea,” sliding two fingers on either side of the base of his thickening shaft. “I might be up for that.” She waggled the fingers and made his heavy member dance side to side, swinging down to hang over his scrotum. She lifted it up again, this time closing her hand around his shaft, finding him rigid enough to stroke, though the end of his cock joggled and wobbled.

“Do you have permission?”

She stopped her penis play and looked at him, her expression offended. “Do I have permission? Do you have permission?”

Now he mocked her by assuming the same haughty expression of offense. “Me? Of course I have permission.”

She looked away, a little rankled. She didn’t really have permission, did she? But what did permission look like? Did she have to ask Byron first, express to him exactly what she wanted to have happen? She supposed she did. She sighed, lamented to herself, “I just had no fun last night. Left all alone...” She resumed handling his penis, caressing fingertips along its beautiful length. She looked to him again. “You must be eager, too.”

Cody hid nothing from her. “I messed around with Scar and Sully last night.”

At least he was honest. She said, “I know you did. Of course I know you did. Scarlet told me.” She circled thumb and forefinger just under the flared ridge of his cock head and choked his fellow, pulling it, admiring it as it came closer to erect. “How did you like her blow job?”

Cody chuckled, his stomach muscles bouncing and flexing. “I liked it. Oh, yes ma’am, I liked it a lot. Scar is one cool customer.”

She soured at his familiarity with her friend. Calling her “Scar,” when he’d always called her Scarlet, getting real chummy and intimate. She let his penis slap back onto his belly and held his balls.

Now Cody said, “Hey, you know what would be hot?”

“What?”

“We should have a night tonight.”

With who? “You and me?”

“Yeah, you and me,” he said, eager. “And B-Boy, too.”

At first she thought that was some unusual nickname Cody had for Scarlet, and crinkled her brow before asking, “Byron? You mean the three of us?”

“Hell, yeah. Or four.”

“I don’t know...”

Cody said, “Think about it, Chey. I’m telling you, Carla would rock your world.”

“Carla?”

He frowned when she looked up. “Who else?”

“No, right. Yeah, I know. Carla.”

Cody laughed again and scooped his arm underneath her shoulders, hugging her. “Man, you go off to another world when you play around.”

It was good to laugh it off and not give away and of her more craven thinkings, thumping her cheek on his hard chest and laughing with him, stroking his erect member now, holding it straight up so it pointed to the sun and clouds.

She laughed and let his cock go, sat up and hiked a leg over him, straddling his hips. “I don’t see any cleaners around right now.”

He folded his arms up, hands above his head, his big round shoulders touching his ears, his turquoise eyes going narrow and sultry. “They got their boat port side.”

She groaned with disappointment, leaning over him, breasts falling forward and bracing her weight with her hands curved on the thickest part of Cody’s forearms. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Everybody having sex except you?”

“Yeah,” she said, showing him her disappointed pout, then easing up to squat on his hips again, the column of his man shaft hard against her soft and needy place. She looked around her shoulders, then said to him, “Looks pretty clean out here on the swimming deck.”

“You mean they won’t be coming out here?”

“Right.”

Cody chuckled. “You can’t be patient, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re going to make me wait until nighttime.”

“A challenge always makes things a little hotter.”

She cocked her head and showed him a confident but sultry expression. “You don’t think I can make it till tonight?”

“Don’t care if you can or can’t,” he said, amused. “You’re going to have to.”

Now she chuckled, doing it in a haughty tone. “He said, while his hard cock throbbed against her sex.”

Cody smiled again, unfolded his arms from behind his head, and took gentle hold of her arms just above the elbows. “You’re a lot of fun, Chey.”

“I know,” she said, a wild heart-racing feeling going through her, looking down on Cody, her breasts bared, the sun on her back and shoulders, horny, her labia slippery in the most sex-ticklish way right now, slick petals kissing his hard shaft. She leaned forward, putting her hands on his hot shoulders, her mouth coming near his like she would kiss him, instead whispering in his ear, “It’s so long till nighttime.”

“That’s the point,” he said, wagging his hips and making the belly of his bog cock bump over her labia.

She munched her lips a moment while the pleasure pooled in her belly, then whispered, “Maybe a little something before then?” Now she stroked her labia in up-down lines, from the tip of his cock to mid-shaft.

He smiled, whispering back to her, “You want just the tip?”

They both snuffled laughter into each other’s necks, but Cody’s hand slipped between them and maneuvered his cock out from underneath her, letting it rest between her ass cheeks.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble, Chey,” he said. And while she thought of more encouragement, seeing if she could get him to break his resolve and mess around with her—even though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help the curiosity—Cody handled his cock so it slipped down her crack. He smiled the whole time, his eyes on hers. Then he pushed his hips a little up to meet hers, and his cock head pressed into her anus. She gasped. Then she laughed.

“So maybe this’ll be okay,” he said. “What do you think?”

“Ooh,” she murmured, feeling his cock stretch her sphincter—not angled to penetrate, but more to tug it upward. Her toes scrunched, and she wondered if maybe anal sex would be okay, her fingers closing on Cody’s biceps.

But he didn’t penetrate her back hole, now angling away, removing the pressure—but reviving it by smacking his cock against her sex and anus. He had her breath coming quick and whispering.

“Oh, you like that, Chey? You want just the tip?” And before she could answer, that plump, swollen helmet of his pushed against her pussy and she tilted her pelvis to swallow it up. She gasped again, her nails pinching his flesh.

But when she scooted back, so did he, dipping his hips so only his cock head stayed nestled in her interior. She growled a frustrated sound. “Don’t be mean,” she said.

He smiled like he was mean, and then bit his lower lip. His hips curled and his cock head plunged a fraction of an inch deeper. All her attention focussed on his cock; could feel a small measure of suction where the flared rim of that perfect shaped cock head held itself seated in her wet membranes. She rocked her hips in tiny jounces, panting as she went along.

This was wrong and she should stop. She’d only been teasing about the ‘just the tip’ thing, had only meant to prolong their dirty talk, but now, with a little patience and a lot of focus, she was convinced that with just his cock head she might just be able to make herself come.

A quiet droning sound, a boat motor, filled the space they occupied, bouncing off the fiberglass and teak decking and rousing her from the illicit sexual play.

She smiled and mimicked Cody, biting her lower lip, too. “Sounds like the cleaners are leaving. Maybe we don’t have to wait till nighttime after all.”

* * *

Lily squeezed her hug tighter, arms around Arlo’s slim middle, as Arlo rocked the jet ski to one side and made it do that thing again where he kicked up all the water, ripping around in a half moon. She hollered in his ear for him to quit it, but breaking up with laughter just the same. “You’re making me all wet, Daddy!”

But he’d performed his high-speed crescent to whip around facing the back of the yacht, and now what had her attention, her chin planted in Arlo’s collar, was the naked people on the swimming deck.

And, yup, no guff, it was the people who she would have expected.

Cheyenne climbed off Cody, her naked butt out in the open—Lily even got a look at Chey’s lady parts. And Cody’s wiener was hard and upright. Yeah, it was a big one. She saw it just for a second before Cody pushed it down and got his leg on it to hide it. The two of them up to no good—made obvious by their guilty actions, Chey acting all demure now, waving hello, covering up, her boy toy sitting on his penis. All innocent, like nothing was going on, no towels nearby, no clothes tossed aside. No Byron.

She clucked her tongue and hugged Arlo tighter. Arlo aimed the remote, and the yacht’s retracting bay door wound up, right next to Cody and Chey.

* * *

They were only messing around a little bit and weren’t going to go too far, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty at Arlo and Lily busting them mid shenanigans.

And, hell, Arlo and Lily were on to them all now, anyway. But they hadn’t been before, so what would they know about rules, anyhow? She smiled and came to the railing at the edge of the swimming deck, overlooking the small transitional pool where the jet skis came in and out of the yacht’s interior bay. Bright and cheery—and not guilty at all—she called out, “Hey, guys. How was shore?”

But Cody and Arlo were laughing and talking at the same time, and Lily hoisted up a plastic bag, presenting it as some trophy from the mainland, but Chey couldn’t hear what Arlo and Lily said with the sound of the jet ski’s motor.

Once Arlo and Lily were in the bay and the doors were retracting, she said to Cody, “What did Lily say?” But then looked at Cody, looked down at Cody’s crotch, and saw that he’d tucked his penis away. The sight was jarring, and she laughed. “You look ridiculous.”

“You left me in an unpresentable situation, Chey.” He parted his legs and his erection popped up and then danced side to side. “That was kind of embarrassing.”

“I think we got away with it.”

“Games,” Cody said, holding his dick against his hip.

“What?”

“What Lily said. Games. They brought back some games.”

Summer Swap 6-12 (Patreon)

Early evening, full bellies, sun going down, drinks in hand, everyone aware that tonight they would play some games together. He was sure they would be naughty games, all their business out in the open and no one to protect anymore.

Byron sat on the sofa, assessing his friends. Scarlet and Chey weren’t talking. Scarlet was mad at Chey for something, and Chey was mad at her. Chey was mad at him, too, though she wouldn’t admit it. Paloma and Philippe were giving Sully and Scarlet the cold shoulder. It was theatrical and performative, but it was based on honesty. Philippe mimed Paloma’s coldness, but Paloma’s coldness seemed very real and Philippe maybe only followed Paloma’s lead. Some people could handle swinging and others couldn’t. That seemed obvious now. The whole swinging thing had gone off on the yacht like a hand grenade thrown into the group. Some of the group got tagged by shrapnel and they staggered around in the aftermath, bleeding out emotions all over the expensive teak decking. Messy, messy emotions. He’d been hit by the shrapnel. He’d been hit bad. But if you didn’t get a tourniquet on that shit fast, like he’d done, there were only bad outcomes available to you.

Lily’s change was most surprising. They’d all thought of her—and Arlo, too—as innocents. Decent people best left out of adventurous activities that occur in the unseemlier sections of society. They’d been patient troopers, but now it was Lily leading tonight’s festivities, arranging a game for them all to play.

Instead of everyone sitting at the table playing cards, Lily had them gathered in the outdoor lounge on the sixth deck, right under the yacht’s communications stack and the helipad. They’d hardly come up here before, and now he wondered why. It was really comfortable. Still open to the sky, though only through a square above their heads over the coffee table, starlight twinkling above them in the not-yet-dark, pinholes of light in a deepening purple, orange still hugging the horizon. The furniture was black wicker, the cushions some soft and fluffy kind of cotton. Around the low center table there were three sofas for two and one couch for four. Lily stood while the rest stayed seated, Lily explaining the game under the soft amber light coming from the brassy overhead arcing struts that were the yacht designer’s beautification of some maritime structural element.

“Everyone gets a color,” Lily said, then passed around plastic badges in bright primary and secondary colors, shaped in bars, like name tags but with no names on them. “You pin them on your shirts so we know who’s who.”

Sully looked confused, saying, “Scarlet and I both have red badges.”

Byron said, “You’re on the same team, you idiot,” holding up his and Cheyenne’s blue badges before passing one of them to Cheyenne.

“Byron, be nice. You don’t have to call Sully an idiot,” Lily said in a kindly first-grade teacher tone.

Both Byron and Sully chuckled and mouthed “fuck you” to each other, pinning their badges on their shirts.

“But Byron’s right,” Lily said to Sully. “You guys are teams of two.”

“Idiot,” Byron muttered.

Lily said, “So now everyone has their color and I have the spinner”—she held up a cardboard square with a color wheel and a black spinning watch hand—“and the color is random, and then I read a question off the—”

Sully interrupted her. “What is this game? Is this like a kids’ game?”

Lily showed a look of mild offense. “No. No, it’s not a kids’ game.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I’m explaining it.” Her brow lowered, annoyed with Sully. Then to clarify for him, “It’s a bad game for bad people. Grown-up people.”

“But you’re playing with us, aren’t you?”

“I’m the game master.”

Byron said, “And what about Arlo? Who’s he?”

She looked over her shoulder at her husband, then said, “He’s the game master’s husband, Byron.”

Byron didn’t understand. “Aren’t you playing?”

Arlo leaned his head back like he was exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, we’re playing.”

Sully said, “But Lily—”

“She’s just being difficult,” Arlo said. “Trust me.”

“So you guys are playing?”

Lily gave him an impatient look. “You’re slowing this down, Sully.”

Sully put up his hands, showing his palms, indicating he would present no further problems.

Arlo and Lily were an odd couple. Lily an upright and proper lady who dressed like a devotee of Martha Stewart before Martha Stewart went to prison. And Arlo was hip and artsy, with longish curly locks and Zappa-like facial hair, with the mustache and a triangular divot under his lower lip. But a kind and gentle guy despite the tattoos and all. Lily had been at art school as well, if he remembered right, but taking pottery or something else homey.

Lily said, “This is a get-to-know-you kind of game. An ice-breaker. Which is great, because I think there’s some ice to break.” Her eyes darted from Scarlet to Paloma. Byron chuckled. He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

Paloma looked at her badge. “So we’re just green team? We don’t get to choose, like, how we play...” She looked to Philippe for the word, then remembered it herself. “Monopoly? Top hat, race car?”

“It’s not a board game,” Lily said. “There’s no board.”

Sully said, “Who wins?”

Lily shrugged. “You don’t win, you just...”

“Break the ice,” Philippe said.

Paloma said, “Is there money?”

Sully said, “We could play for money. Bets, anyone?”

Paloma said, “Is there game money?”

Lily snapped out her arms like a crossing guard, done with the chatter. “Maybe everyone could keep the questions till I’m done explaining. Maybe we could do that?”

Arlo looked around Lily’s hip to all his friends. “She’s an only child, and she always gets her way.”

Philippe said, “Spoiled?”

Lily looked at him, shocked.

“It’s worth indulging her,” Arlo said, showing a shy but knowing smile.

Lily looked back at Arlo. “Aw, thank you, baby.”

Arlo blew her a kiss.

Lily explained how there were colors and questions and how if the spinner landed on black, it was an all-play and not a challenge.

Sully asked, “Then what is it if it’s not a challenge?”

“I’ll do an example,” Lily said. “Say the spinner lands on black. Now it’s an ice-breaker question. She selected a card and read it. “Who here has watched porn with...” She frowned, then turned to show Arlo the card. “What is this word?”

Arlo squinted and read the card, then said, “Bukkake.”

Everyone chuckled.

Lily sounded it out, eyes on the card, “Boo-caw-key. Bukkake.”

Arlo rolled his eyes and laughed. “She knows how to pronounce it. She’s only pretending.”

“Ar-lo,” Lily said, admonishing her husband for his rude indiscretion. “What is it even? You don’t know what it is, do you? Is it bad?”

Arlo regarded her with patience. “Lily, you introduced it to me.”

They all showed a measure of gasping shock, blown away if that was a true statement.

Lily smiled and left Arlo alone, and Byron swore her cheeks were blushing. “I don’t think I did,” Lily muttered to herself.

Scarlet said, “What is it?”

No one wanted to tell her, everyone looking around at each other waiting for someone else to do it. It should be Sully’s job.

Sully realized it, and shifted in his seat, saying, “It’s uh, like, uh... I guess... Japanese?” Then looked to Byron for an escape route. “It’s Japanese, right, Byron?”

“Don’t look at me,” Byron said. “Hey, you’re doing fine, buddy. Keep at it.”

Scarlet looked grossed out. “Oh, is it like tentacles or something weird like that?”

Sully stared at her, stalling, wanting the hand of god to reach down and yank him out of this predicament. Then he sighed, resigned. “First, it’s boo-caw-keh, not key. And it’s, um, where there’s a girl and like a bunch of men and the men do stuff on her...”

He let it hang in the air, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out for his wife. But Scarlet looked confused, crossing her arms, a little bothered looking, waiting for the rest. Then she looked disgusted. “Shit on her? Sully, you watch this?”

“No, hey, whoa, no. No, what are you, crazy? Who would watch that?”

She looked mad now. “Tell me what it is.”

“They, uh, they, like, fucking... God, they jerk off on her. On her, you know...”

Scarlet was horrified. “They jerk off on her face? They come all over her face?” Her voice was rising, tinged with outrage.

Sully didn’t know how to respond and everyone’s eyes widened, the smiles on their faces growing hesitant. Sully looked around for help and no one helped him. Then he regarded Scarlet, his mouth hanging open, the two of them staring at each other.

It was too early for a fight to break up everyone’s evening fun.

But Scarlet cracked and showed the tiniest smile and Sully was the one mad now. “Oh, you’re fucking kidding me. You’re such a bitch.” He collapsed in the sofa like he was exhausted.

Scarlet leaned toward Carla sitting next to her, sharing the couch with Cody and Carla, saying out of the side of her mouth, “Who doesn’t know what bukkake is?” Carla burst into laughter and fell against Cody, who enjoyed it, too, putting his arm around his sexy, jiggly, tanned wife.

Sully covered his face and shook his head.

Scarlet took a sip of her drink and said, “Okay, this is fun. Let’s keep going.” She laughed at her own meanness and took Sully’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

Lily said, “So it’s safe to say everyone here has watched something like that, something with boo-caw-key or -keh or whatever? Raise your hand if you haven’t.”

Only Chey raised her hand. Everyone looked at her and Chey said, “I mean, I know what it is, but I haven’t watched it.” She looked at Byron. “You’ve watched it?”

Byron looked to Sully. “Is this a trick? I don’t know anymore.”

Chey poked him. “It’s fine. Though I hope you watched it when you were a horny teen, not like sneaking out of bed with me to watch it while I’m sleeping.”

“Never,” he said and kissed Chey’s forehead.

“That’s when he watches his favorite anal fisting videos,” Sully said.

Byron said, “I don’t have a favorite, Sully. They’re kind of all good.”

Chey looped an arm under his and they sat closer. “Okay, Lily,” she said. “This is fun.”

Lily beamed and showed a big smile. “Awesome. Okay.”

Arlo said, “Points might be good, Lily. Keep these ingrates motivated. You get a point for every challenge accepted...”

Sully sat forward, “Yeah, and like if you turn a challenge down, you have to remove an article of clothing and chug a beer.”

“It’s not a frat party, dude,” Byron said.

“Okay,” Sully said, seeing the point, “if you say no to a challenge you don’t get the carrot—the point—and instead you get the stick—a paddling.” He clapped his hands like this was a fantastic idea no one would object to.

Philippe said, “I don’t see myself getting spanked.”

Sully looked disappointed. “Maybe you could chug a beer, then?”

Philippe shook his head. “I don’t see myself backing down from any challenge in Lily’s naughty game of courage and sexual adventure.” He smiled with sly confidence.

Cody joined in. “I never back down from a challenge.”

Byron liked the boldness. And with what he’d been through, he sat forward and said with equal bravado. “I’m not backing down from anything.”

Sully looked to Arlo, and they agreed too, and then Sully said, “I guess it’s up to the ladies...”

Arlo let the ladies all know, “I can get my hands on a nice hard paddle in about five minutes.”

Chey was the first to speak. “I’m not backing down.”

Then all of them went in turn, offering similar claims of proud courage.

Lily bounced on her toes with excitement. “Hot dog, guys, looks like we got ourselves a game.”

Sully said, “First one to ten points wins.”

Byron said, “And what do they win, though?”

Lily smiled a strange kind of mean and controlling way and she said, “The winners get a night with anyone on the yacht they choose, and they can do whatever they want to them.”

They all thought about it, some of them smiling, never seeing themselves as the loser, but some of the guys were a little more uncomfortable.

Byron looked to Sully, and they shared quizzical expressions. Byron asked for clarification. “Hey Lily, what do you mean by anything?”

“Anything means anything, Byron,” she said, her voice colder now than the schoolteacher she’d shown them earlier. “Are you chicken?”

All eyes were on him now, and he shifted where he sat, looking at each of them in turn. He cleared his throat, sat straighter and said to Lily, “Spin your little wheel, let’s get this party started.”

Summer Swap 6-13 (Patreon)

Lily said the first go at the spinner was Cheyenne and Byron’s team, the order being clockwise from the game master.

Lily said to them, “Want me to spin for you? It’ll be easier than passing this card around from player to player.” She waggled the cardboard spinner. “It’s kind of flimsy.”

Byron said, “Spin for us, Lily,” and reclined on his sofa with an arm over the back.

Arlo read a sheet of directions, sitting on the small sofa behind Lily. “Okay, the first round is a body challenge. Everyone ready for that?”

Sully looked to Scarlet, but she didn’t know what that meant, either. He said, “What’s a body challenge?”

Lily said, “Byron and Chey spin a color, and then they spin for what they have to do to a body part from someone from that group color.”

Sully looked to Scarlet, and they broke out laughing.

Lily said, “Hey, guys, come on. Give the game a chance.”

Scarlet held up a hand. “No, Lily. We’re laughing because that’s perfect. I won’t back down.”

Sully made the same proclamation. “I’m not backing down from that.”

Byron eyed him. “Even if I have to put my finger up your butt? Tickle that old prostate of yours?”

Sully paused and thought about it and in that hesitation, Scarlet said, “I would pay real money to see that happen,” and they all laughed.

Carla hugged Cody’s arm. “I would, too. Maybe we can start a Go Fund Me.”

Byron looked at Lily. “That’s not on there, is it?”

“You putting a finger up Sully’s butt? Let’s spin the wheel and find out.”

Chey chuckled. “Spin it, Lily.”

Lily spun the wheel and announced, “Blue.”

Both Byron and Chey regarded their badges. “We’re blue. What does that mean?”

“Disqualified,” Sully said.

Carla said, “What do you think it means, Byron? Use your imagination.” She smiled and winked.

Sully regarded her and Cody, Carla hugging her husband’s side, her shoes off, legs drawn up under her. They were like proud parents watching their children on Christmas morning, opening all their presents, mom and dad sleepy eyed and happy, enjoying the pleasure they’d gifted.

Cheyenne said, “We . . . do it . . . to each other?”

Arlo said, “Bingo.”

“What do we have to do?”

Lily spun the hand and said, “Flutter. One of you has to flutter the other.” She spun again. “Lips. Flutter your eyelashes on the other’s lips.”

“Easy peasy,” Byron said.

But when Byron turned to his wife, Sully noted some sand in the relationship gears. There was friction between Byron and Chey. Cheyenne had swung for the fences and went hog wild in pornographic sex action, and then, when Byron had his turn, he went too far emotionally. Scarlet said he’d cuddled with Carla all night, the two of them under a blanket on the yacht’s prow, the Caribbean starlight twinkling over their noggins. Sully pictured Byron sleeping like a little baby, his mouth every once in a while suckling on one of Carla’s nipples. God, sleeping with Carla, resting your head on those big pillows?

Byron said to Cheyenne, “Do you want to flutter?”

Chey didn’t smile, just pressing her lips together, regarding her husband, unsure. “No,” she said, quiet. “You flutter my lips.”

Sully cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Bor-ing.”

Scarlet elbowed him.

They all watched what Byron had claimed would be “easy peasy” happen with sticky, hesitating movement, like Chey and Byron needed a squirt of oil on all their joints. Byron leaned close and Chey pouted her lips, neither of them smiling, and Byron fluttered his eyelashes against her. She shook her head and rubbed her mouth. The laughter came uneasily from everyone.

Lily pointed to Philippe and Paloma. “You guys are next.” She flicked her spinner. She frowned. “This sucks. Orange. Samesies again.”

Philippe smiled. “What do we have to do?”

Lily spun once more, saying, “Squeeze...” Then smiled, looking up. “Penis. One of you has to squeeze the other’s penis.”

Philippe regarded his former wife, raising an eyebrow. “That really narrows it down.”

“Yes,” Paloma said. “I am the one who squeeze.” She stooped forward to set her glass of chardonnay on the teak floor and then turned in the seat to face her husband, who did the same, leaning back in the corner of the sofa, that sly smile showing—the one he had whenever his magnificent penis would make an appearance. He let Paloma do the work, Paloma unzipping him, her bangles jingling, getting his fly open and slipping a hand inside his shorts.

Lily said, “We have to see.”

Paloma nodded, then drew out Philippe’s enormous hairy organ, all loose skin and bulk, Paloma’s tanned hand with a good grip. She squeezed and milked that monster, looking around at the group to make sure they all saw her doing it.

Sully side-eyed Scarlet, saw his wife leaning forward, no timidity at all, stroking her throat and smiling while she watched her new nemesis playing with the object of Scarlet’s affection. It fucking turned him on like crazy to see his wife as a pervert.

Paloma let Philippe’s penis go, and it lay on his leg before he squirreled it back inside his shorts and zipped up again.

They had all remained rather silent while Paloma performed that act, no one making jokes or laughing, all of them mesmerized—or intimidated—by Philippe’s masculine equipment.

Scarlet said, “It’s our turn, Sully,” and took his hand. “Spin for us, Lily.”

Lily spun. “Orange,” she said, pointing to Paloma and Philipe, both Sully and Scarlet looking toward their cold war adversaries, Philippe smiling, Paloma high-browed and unperturbed.

“And,” Scarlet asked, “what do we have to do?”

Lily spun again. “Lick. . . . And lips. One of you has to lick one of their lips.”

Scarlet patted the back of his hand she held and they regarded each other with hesitating smiles. Sully said, “What do you think? You want to lick Philippe’s lips?”

Scarlet looked over his shoulder at Philippe and Paloma, saying to him, “I’ve already licked his lips.”

“I’m not licking his lips. I guess I should lick her lips?”

But Scarlet wasn’t listening, still gazing over his shoulder like she was in a staring contest. “Look at her. She thinks she’s the boss, like we did something wrong. Just living our lives, right?”

“We’re not trying to hurt nobody,” he said, ashamed of the lurid excitement sparked from thinking maybe his wife would go and lick Paloma’s lips. There was a stirring in his loins. Scarlet had already licked Paloma’s lips, though. He said, “Maybe I should do it. Lick Paloma’s lips.”

Now Scarlet looked at him, her eyes flicking to his. “Why?”

“You’ve licked both their lips. You’re not showing anybody you’re the boss that way.”

Scarlet’s mouth tugged to one side, her cheek dimpling, seeing he was correct. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. You lick her lips, but don’t back down, Sully.”

“I don’t back down,” he said, defensive.

“Don’t hesitate or anything. Make a show of it.”

He pulsed a palm toward her, calming her down. “Yeah-yeah-yeah, I know.”

She laughed, then whispered, “Don’t let me down.”

Sully rose to stand amid the group, everyone facing him, now the star of the show. A chill of stage fright hit him, but he chased it away with a bold surge, a commanding male energy that zipped through him. He looked down at Paloma and Philippe, his smug adversaries, wanting to impress his beloved Scarlet with a confident show. Lick her lips...

He sighed as if this was the hundredth time he’d played this game and he found it so wearying. Then he scratched his chest in lazy strokes and sniffed before saying, “This seems too sweet for some of us world travelers, if you know what I’m saying.”

Lily looked perplexed and a little hurt. “It’s just the first round.”

Sully lifted his eyebrows high. “It’s a wonderful game, Lily, but I say we kick this thing up a gear.”

Lily’s mouth squished to one side, studying him and trying to figure out his angle. “That’s fine. But you still have to complete the challenge. You’re not backing out, are you?”

He chuckled and closed his eyes. “From what, licking Paloma’s lips? Please. . . . Though, you know what?”

“What?”

He winked at Lily now. “The card didn’t say which lips, did it?” He smiled. He’d found his angle. Turning now to Paloma, he said, “Unless that’s too much and you want to back out.”

Paloma looked to Philippe, not following Sully’s slang and fast-talking patter. Her brows bowed in query.

Philippe said, “Ele quer dizer lábios. Os lábios”—he nodded between Paloma’s legs—“também são lábios.”

Sully heard the word that sounded like labia and figured he’d been suitably translated, crossing his arms and bouncing on his toes. He looked back, and Scarlet seemed impressed. She showed him a secret thumbs-up.

“Sim, sim,” Paloma said, smiling, not out of humor but out of confidence, slinking in her seat, facing Sully, crossing her arms like he did, her hands stroking the back of her upper arms. Her chin dipped to her suntanned collar, and she regarded him from under her brow, her eyes sparkling. She said, “That’s what I thought it was you mean.” Her knees widened. She wore that daisy yellow dress he loved to see her in, the one that made her skin dark and sexy, showed off her arms and shoulders and her long, long legs. Legs that parted for him further, revealing the insides of her thighs, up high, right where he wanted to be. This yacht trip was so much better than he thought it could be. “I will not back down. Kiss me while your wife watch. Kiss me down there while all your friends watch.”

Paloma was a tough cookie, and her confident challenge to him shook his foundation a little. Scarlet was watching. What if when he returned she was mad? Did he misunderstand the thumbs-up? And what if his friends made fun of him? What if they all laughed? What if, when he squatted between Paloma’s legs, Byron made a fart sound?

He pushed the negative thoughts back. Who cares? He was going to do a good job. He was going to impress Paloma, and he was going to make his wife proud.

Oh, and he was also going to put into motion the plan to get his time with Paloma. This would also be seduction.

He said, “This is more than a kiss, Paloma. This is a lick.”

She shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “What’s the difference?”

He chuckled and polished his nails on his stomach. “Oh, you’re going to find out the difference. Why don’t you lift that skirt up and I’ll show you.”

He watched her sexy, long-fingered hands drop to her lap and begin to claw upward the cotton fabric, revealing more and more of those beautiful legs.

“Okay,” he muttered, a little intimidated as he saw this wild creature wore no panties, and she showed him that most secret part. Paloma was unshaved, a wild thatch of sexy woman-bush darker than her sun-bleached caramel hair. His stomach tightened and his heart raced at the lurid sight. There was something unnerving about a woman so beautiful and groomed going completely au naturel between her legs. He fucking liked it. She was like a sophisticated supermodel and some hippy free-spirit of the earth all at once. His cock began to harden, plumping out under his fly.

Seduction, he told himself. Remember: seduction.

He squatted between Paloma’s open legs, Philippe enjoying the show. No one laughed, no one blatted a comical fart sound. His friends all watched this gorgeous woman show one of their friends her pussy with the expectation he would lick it.

He worked closer, both hands gripping her thighs for balance, his right hand sweeping closer, his thumb caressing her labia, locating them in the dense Amazon rainforest he circled over, looking for a runway. His face went closer, and he fought the boyish urge to giggle. This was the most hilarious thing he’d ever done. And the most sexually adventurous. He was blessed to receive such a moment in his life. He relaxed and let the giggle simmer, then dissipate. His eyes darted up to Paloma’s, and she showed him no humor. To show him humor would let Scarlet succeed over her. He was an agent of Scarlet’s; a proxy in Paloma and Scarlet’s scrimmage.

Paloma told him, “Is lick. Not thumb,” her tone domineering, Scarlet’s husband inept at following the clear rules set forth by Lily’s spinner.

He said, “I know it’s lick. I’m just waiting for you to chicken out.”

“What is this, chicken? Is it—”

But he was in motion now, dipping close, the tip of his nose sweeping south-to-north through her pubic patch. She smelled like coconut and pineapple. How the fuck could a pussy smell so good? But he offered her no compliment, no uttering of supplication that would anger his lovely Scarlet, only brought his nose back down again, jutting his chin forward and introducing his tongue to her pussy.

He loved the little jolt it produced. The tip of his tongue narrowed, wiggled against the bottom yoke of her opening, blown away by a distinct sugariness on his palate. Did she pamper her pussy in some kind of sugar dusting, some sort of tropical coconut-pineapple flavoring used in baking? If they sorted out their difficulties, maybe Paloma would share her secret with Scarlet.

Once his tongue sunk into her pussy, parting her labia, the copper tang seized his tongue and reminded him Paloma was a human like any other woman, no matter how long-limbed and sultry they may be.

Now he pasted the flat of his tongue to her labia and urged an upward pressure that had Paloma’s thighs closing against his shoulders. Her skin was hot. He angled his face up, the wide flat of his tongue going back and forth like windshield wipers in a light rain, puffing up her sex flesh, feeling them fatten under his taste buds, bowing his tongue and locating the hard bulb of flesh under her membranous cowl. Once he’d located that pleasure knot, he focused on greater pressure, stalling his lick, curling his tongue to give it drag, slow its course across Paloma’s labia, or lábios, as Philippe pronounced it. More upward pressure, his tongue snagged on her clitoris, pulling it up, harassing it, applying stress, giving it anxiety. Paloma shifted and trembled and right there, he knew he’d won.

His tongue relaxed, softened, the comber unfurling, slipping a wet line up her pussy, glissading across her clitoris, then departing from her sex flesh like an F-16 taking flight off an aircraft carrier. He chuckled, gripping Paloma’s shaking thighs to help him stand upright before her.

Paloma showed a dazed expression, not regarding him, her eyes unfocused. The blush on her tanned cheeks turned his ignition, and his powerful sex motor rumbled to life. Now he didn’t want to sit, only to get back to business and make this Brazilian super-model orgasm right in front of all his friends. Paloma’s lips had tightened and one corner had lifted. Was the Cold War over? Was she smiling? Was his oral skill the kind of Wikipedia-worthy rapprochement needed to get all four of them in bed later tonight?

He looked to Philippe, happy to see he and Philippe were on the same page, two guys nursing their combative wives through a female head-to-head they wouldn’t interfere with, only linger on the sidelines where it was safe, ride this battle out.

Paloma’s graceful hand wiped the smile from her own face. Then she adjusted her skirt to cover her exposed sex and brought her knees together.

“Okay,” she said, “you lick.”

“That’s right,” Sully said, thumbing his chest. “I lick. I’m the one who licks.”

Paloma had no comeback, only shuffled closer to Philippe, leaning her shoulder into his chest, her eyes blinking in rapid flutters, still trying to recover without showing she needed time to recover.

Sully made a show of straightening his shirt and shorts, putting himself back together like a gentleman might. If he had cufflinks, he would tug them. Then he returned to his wife, Scarlet sitting unreadable, back straight, hands on her thighs. He plopped back down next to her and took her hand, looking around at all his friends, who showed signs of heightened arousal, all of them realizing the game was starting to get real.

Byron broke the silence, tugging on his earlobe, brows raised, head cocked, pupils darting from Paloma and Philippe to him and Scarlet. “Oo-kay,” he said, “something’s going on there.” He shook his head and drummed on his thighs. “Lily, spin your dial and see if Cody or Carla has to finger Sully-boy’s prostate.”

Summer Swap 6-14: (Patreon)

Sully returned to Scarlet’s side, showing a wide and smug smile. The front of his shorts were humped out in a familiar, excited bulge. Sully boy had enjoyed his lick challenge. But he’d done it for his watching wife, and her boy had done it well. He flopped down beside her and crossed his arms, scooting closer, and she hooked an arm around his shoulders, casting a narrow-eyed gaze beyond him to Paloma, who’d snuggled into Philippe. She kissed Sully’s neck, never removing her eyes from Paloma, who pretended not to care as Scarlet stared at her.

She played with Sully’s hair, whispering near his ear, “You shouldn’t have got on your knees for her.”

Sully stiffened, made an irritated sound in his throat. “What was I going to do, turn her upside down?”

She smiled at the thought. “Wouldn’t that have been something?” She could picture Sully kneeling on the couch and hoisting Paloma’s knees up, Paloma’s feet high in the air while he motor-boated her pussy and Paloma squealed with wild humiliation.

Sully side-eyed her. “You’ve gone crazy.”

She pouted and showed him mock surrender. “You did good, buddy. You did very good.” She played with his hair again.

“Damn right I did.”

She said, “Wipe your mouth.”

Sully rolled his eyes and ran his hand down from his nose to his chin. His childish smile got her to smile.

#

Lily was watching him and Scarlet with the look a teacher on the edge of their patience showed a student talking at the back of class. Sully said, Sorry,” and put up his hands. Scarlet laughed and kissed his shoulder, snuggled up next to him, nice and warm.

Lily kept her scrutinizing eyes on him while she flicked the spinner for the next round. Flicked it too well, because the thing went spinning right off the cardboard backing, up into the air like a drone and disappeared in the wind.

Lily squealed, and everyone laughed. Byron said, “Hey,” and fished the black spinner arrow out of his drink and held it up for everyone to see.

“Oh,” Lily said, really annoyed now. “Oh shoot. I knew that was going to happen.”

Byron lifted off his chair and passed the dripping arrow back to Lily—Byron hunched over, definitely hiding an erection. Lily passed the spinner and the cardboard base back to Arlo and Arlo tried to push the spinner back on, but the thing kept falling off.

“Mm, the game company has a spinner app,” Lily said. “I’ll just use that instead.”

While Lily opened her phone and looked for the app, Chey said, “I’m trying to figure out if I’m mad or glad the game’s going to keep going.”

Lily, eyes down, talking to her phone, said, “You can sit in your room by yourself if my game’s bugging you.”

Everyone mooed a lowing sound, like those were catty, and daresay, fighting words. Lily looked up, shocked. “What? I didn’t mean it like that.”

Cheyenne smiled still, but her brow lowered and she studied Lily carefully, looking stung. She said, “I meant we had a chance to stay out of trouble with the dares and now the game’s back on.”

Scarlet said, “Easy, tiger.”

Cheyenne looked at Scarlet, vexed, bothered that she was the one being warned. Scarlet cocked her head (like she was tightening the warning) and Chey’s shoulders slumped.

Chey said, “Sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean it like that, either.”

“It’s okay,” Lily said, still screen-swiping.

Sully groaned, the silence and the tension growing too big.

Lily said, “I already installed the app, whoever did that rude groan sound—Sully—so you can take it back now. See”—she presented them her phone screen—“I’ve got the spinner ready to go.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Someone’s getting too horny,” Lily muttered, turning the phone to herself now and tapping the screen. “All right then, we’re onto Team C and C—”

“Like the Music Factory,” Byron said.

Lily kept going. “No, like Cody and Carla. And they have to...” She touched her screen and waited. “Do something with . . . Oh, Philippe and Paloma.”

“P and P Music Factory,” Byron said, matter-of-fact. Only Chey laughed.

“No one knows what you’re talking about,” Sully called out over the table between them.

Byron said, “I like it better that way. These jokes are for me.”

Scarlet nudged him and asked Lily what it was they had to do to each other. Lily read the screen, her eyes narrowing to slits, her phone getting nearer to her face until her nose almost touched it. She shook her head and turned to show Arlo. Arlo rolled his eyes and shook his head side-to-side, smiling wide.

Cody said, “What is it? What do we have to do?”

Lily looked a little bothered now. “It says this one’s for the guys. That’s kind of gender specific. What year was this made?”

Arlo looked at the box, scanning the fine print, looking for a publication date for Lily.

Cody said again, this time a little more adamant. “What is it? What do we have to do?”

Arlo thought about it. “It’s not gender, Lily. Just a body part. We’ll treat it that way. ‘Guys’ can mean a lot of things.”

Lily’s brow furrowed, and she raised her eyes up in consideration. “Oh, yeah. I guess that’s okay. Is that okay, guys?”

No one knew what to say or how to respond and all just shrugged shoulders, looking at each other and waiting for an objection. None came, but Byron said what everyone was thinking: “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Arlo gestured to his wife. “Lily...?”

When Lily paused too long, Scarlet said, “Lily, tell the gentlemen what they’ve won.”

Lily cocked her head and looked from Cody to Philippe and back again, saying, “Mush your mushrooms.”

Paloma’s brow furrowed. She said to Philippe, “Mushrooms?”

“Oh my god, no,” Chey said and laughed into two hands cupped on her mouth.

“Fellas,” Lily said, dropping her phone to her thigh, showing a big, big smile, “you gotta mush”—pause—“your mushrooms.”

There was a ripple of light but unsure sniggering. Philippe said, “You mean penises, right? That’s my takeaway here.”

Scarlet said, “Yes, penises. Do you have mushrooms elsewhere?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, then. Penises. Head to head, as they say.”

“A real tête-à-tête,” Byron said.

Sully called out again, “No one knows what you’re talking about, Byron.”

“A real meeting of the minds,” Chey said, and then looked at Byron for approval, both of them chuckling in kind of a sweet way that was good to see.

Arlo said in a cool, drawling tone, thick with mocking admiration: “Check out the big brain on Brett.”

Lily asked, “Who’s Brett?”

Byron said, “What, you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction?”

Lily scrunched up her face. “I don’t remember penises in Pulp Fiction.”

Philippe stood up, confident, smiling, saying, “Cody, looks like you’re off the bench, my friend. Time to get in the game.”

Cody stood up, looking unperturbed, one eyebrow raised to a wry angle. “Philippe, looks like we’re on.”

Philippe said, “Is this the main event, do you think?”

Cody stepped around the coffee table and met Philippe. “Something tells me Lily’s little game is only getting started.”

Philippe met Cody eye to eye, and they both looked at each other like gunfighters, both of them smirking, less than a foot apart from each other. Philippe said, “How are we doing this?”

Cody smiled wider, kept looking at Philippe, but saying to Lily: “So, what, Lily, like a simple boop and we’re done?”

“You wish,” Lily said, passing the phone to Arlo, who read it now, too.

Arlo said, “Thirty seconds of mushing.”

Philippe sucked his teeth, said, “Thirty seconds, huh?”

Sully laughed and said through cupped hands, “First guy that squirts has to suck the other guy off to completion.”

Scarlet said, “I’d watch that.”

He looked at her, shocked and frowning, hands dropping to his lap, eyes like MRI radio beams searching for a sign she was kidding. No sign detected, he turned up his nose. “You’d enjoy watching that?”

Scarlet only smiled, and beyond her, Carla sipped her drink. “I’d watch the fuck out of that,” Carla said in a sly, humorous confession.

“You guys are creeps,” he said.

Both women looked at him in mock offense and bewilderment, then at each other in commiseration. Scarlet said to Carla, “You see what I have to put up with? The Prudenstein monster over here.”

Sully thumbed toward Paloma, seeking to redeem himself. “Are you kidding? You just watched me...” Then stopped, realizing they were getting a kick out of fucking with him, and rubbed his forehead. “You guys are such assholes,” he said and took a deep breath.

Scarlet and Carla laughed, and Scarlet fell into Sully, leaning her head on his shoulder and looking up into his eyes. “You did say you would do anything, Sully-baby. Remember? You don’t back down.”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar,” he muttered.

#

Chey wasn’t sure how much enthusiasm she should show right now. Byron sat right next to her, and things between them had gotten weird. Not terrible territory yet, but definitely in an unsure and shaky section of ground that she didn’t like. But it wasn’t an easy thing to shake off. What she did; what he did.

Problem was, the enthusiasm she felt for this current spectacle was through the roof. Two hot guys with big, sexy schlongs about to sword fight?

She crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. Hated that position (too far away), then sat forward, elbows on knees. Her back was getting sweaty and the back of her neck itched with sexual anticipation. All the other girls were having fun with it. Scarlet’s cheeks red, eyes shiny; Carla, all sly-eyed and sipping her drink; Paloma with legs crossed, too, sitting forward, expression electric. Even cute and shy Lily, who’d somehow popped out of her prudish shell in a newly formed expression of sweet yet sadistic, was enjoying the show.

The two men unzipped their shorts, taking their time with it, doing this eye-thing where they stared each other down. Philippe reached into his fly and finger-hooked his massive dick, tugged it out and let it swing. It was a gnarly looking thing, lots of foreskin, wrinkles, hair. Cody popped his big boy out, too. His a perfect, gorgeous, man-model of a penis. Almost as big.

Scarlet—who Sully allowed to enjoy herself—said, “Get those shorts right down, boys. We want to see some cheeks.”

Chey couldn’t help laughing. But then felt bad, knowing it might make Byron uncomfortable. She leaned into his arm, and sweet Byron accepted her, putting his own arm around her shoulders. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they were both making them out to be.

Philippe and Cody shook their heads, but both men had no problem being the center of all the ladies’s attention. They unbuttoned their shorts and pushed them and their underwear right down. From Chey’s angle, she got a great view of Cody’s pert man-ass. This might be the hottest thing she’d ever had upfront access to. And she’d seen strippers at bachelorette parties. Philippe’s balls hung low, one lower than the other. Then that ball climbed up high all on its own, his whole sack then tightening up under his massive hog. It also went through some changes on its own, lengthening, thickening, the shape of his cock head starting to push through his shrinking foreskin. Cody’s too. Also starting to plump up, even jiggling a little with each heartbeat.

Scarlet said what Chey was thinking. “Oh my goodness, these two hunks are getting hard.”

Summer Swap 6-15 (Patreon)

Cody laughed at her harassment and grabbed his dick to hide it. “I’m not getting hard, Scarlet.”

Philippe didn’t touch his, just said, “Mine’s adapting to the change in temperature.”

Cody agreed. “Yeah, mine too. Mine’s wondering why anyone would drag it out of its sleepy spot when it was so comfy.”

“Mine, too,” Philippe agreed. Two big shots with great equipment acting all confident because they didn’t know what else to say, standing face to face with another bottomless dude.

She looked at both their dicks (Cody letting his go now) and said, “Philippe, I hate to say it, but yours is kind of ornery.”

Philippe laughed, but behind him, Paloma was confused, maybe even miffed or insulted, saying, “Or-nair-ee? O que é aquilo?”

Philippe said over his shoulder, “Like a bad attitude, Paloma.”

“Ah,” Paloma said, reconciled, nodding in full agreement.

Looking over at Paloma put Sully in Scarlet’s periphery, and Sully boy was scrutinizing her. She asked him why he was looking at her.

He said, “You and that dick.”

She sighed and hid her face for a second, but decided shame and submission didn’t work for her and it didn’t work for Sully, either. Sully liked it when she was naughty. She snuggled into his side again and he accepted her, holding her close.

Carla got up and went around to stand behind Byron and Chey’s sofa because she could only see her husband’s bare ass from where she’d been sitting, bringing her wine and getting a better view of the showdown’s principal players. Lily joined her, sidestepping her way behind the sofa as well.

Carla said, “Pull up those T-shirts a little, boys. We want a good show.”

Cody looked at his wife, shaking his head. Both he and Philippe lifted their T-shirts up to their sternums, showing themselves off, their big pendulous genitals getting close to touching.

Scarlet fanned herself, and Sully pushed her away like he was disgusted—but her man was letting her have her fun, not seriously bothered. Byron, on the other hand, looking to be growing perturbed. No smile, watching these two grade-A specimens getting all the girls hot and bothered. Including his wife. Including his wife big time.

Lily, with her phone in one hand still, made a motion of bringing two hands together and touching the points of her index fingers, saying, “let’s get going, guys, you gotta make ‘em touch.”

Carla said, “Make ‘em kiss each other,” then sipped her chardonnay, smile curling up on one side.

Arlo looked over at Sully and they both shook their heads. Then Arlo left his sofa and went to join Byron, sitting next to him, and though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could tell they were pretending to talk about sports. Byron was relieved by the company and he even nudged Cheyenne’s elbow with his own, jutting his chin toward the action, meaning go get a good look if she wanted. Byron was good to Cheyenne. Cheyenne looked at Byron and there was some sort of communication there, no words spoken, just looking at each other. Then Chey stood and stepped to the side so she could get a better look at these two men touch their sexy penises together. Arlo and Byron got comfier on the small sofa and pretended they didn’t want to look at all, but both of them kept shooting over quick glances.

Cody held his piece in a weird overhanded way and stretched it and tugged it, getting it looking its best, Scarlet figured. Philippe held his at the base with a thumb and finger and waggled it, slapping it on his thigh—also plumping it up so it would look its best.

Cody said, “What was it, twenty seconds?”

“Thirty,” Chey said.

“That seems like a really long time,” Cody said.

Philippe said, “it really does.”

Sully poked her, then said to the guys, “Bunch of chickens here. Look at this, round one, and they’re backing out already.”

“We’re not backing out,” Philippe said. “And you’re welcome to come bring your pecker over here and join in if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll be right over,” Sully said drolly, sitting back and putting his feet up on the coffee table, lacing fingers behind his head.

Lily clapped her hands. “A lot of talking, not a lot of mushing, fellas.”

Sully leaned close to Scarlet. “Where has this Lily been?”

“Crazy, huh?”

Lily touched fingertips together again, saying, “Let’s get them touching.”

Both Cody and Philipp grumbled like they weren’t into it, but it looked like they weren’t that unsettled. They shook out their dicks a couple more times, then took them and held them out awkwardly, still about an inch apart.

“A little closer, guys,” Carla said. “You’re almost there.”

Tittle by tittle, their soft cock heads came toward each other, and at last they met, their grayish shapes osculating, flattening.

Cody and Philippe each made groans of discomfort, feeling their friend’s dick on their own, both of them looking up now at the starlit night beyond the yacht’s canopy.

Sully thrashed in his chair suddenly, like someone had made a toddler eat a mouthful of spinach.

She said, “You can’t take two guys touching tooters?”

“Nope,” he said, voice tight, face turned away, toward her, his features scrunched up. He fell against her, and she cuddled his head to her bosom like a mom protecting her child. She did not look away.

He said, “Are you still looking?”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

Cody said, “Is anybody counting down?”

Arlo said, “I got you guys. Twenty-eight . . . Twenty-seven...”

Philippe sighed. “Can’t he count any faster?”

Paloma stood, brining her wineglass along, slinking up behind Philippe and grabbing his bare ass. Philippe jolted, the act of jolting thrusting his penis into Cody’s. All the girls laughed, and Paloma went to join them, four ladies standing across from her and Sully and enjoying the show.

“That’s it, you gotta really mush ’em, guys,” Lily said, bent over like a third base umpire, hands on skinny knees, trying to get a good look at the action. “I want to see them go all like flat against each other.”

More groaning, but Philippe and Cody obliged them, putting their hips forward until their two heads mushed the way Lily had described, the guys holding their member just behind their glans’, their shirt hems tucked under their chins.

Scarlet rose and circled the table, going around to join the girls, not wanting to be left out. She had a contribution already in mind, getting up next to Carla and saying near her ear, “Philippe should have that turtleneck back, right?”

Carla agreed, brow lowering, nodding. “Yeah, hey guys?”

“Now what?”

“Yeah, you gotta pull that turtleneck back, Philippe. They need to be hole to hole.”

“Oh my god,” Cody sighed, rocking his head back on his muscular neck. “Arlo, what’s the time?”

“Twenty . . . Nineteen...”

More groaning. Scarlet and the other girls laughed. Sully curled up on the sofa, covering his head. Byron and Arlo pretend not to look, Arlo looking at his phone counting down, but eyes flitting up to check out the action, too.

Lily said, “If they come apart when you do it, then you have to start from thirty all over again.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Philippe muttered.

“You can’t change the rules mid-mush, Lily.”

Lily sauntered up close, almost between them, looking up at Cody.

“You have to play the game right,” she said. “You like playing games, don’t you, Cody?”

“I guess,” he said.

Philippe worked his other hand into the fray and crawled his finger son his shaft to pull back his foreskin, his shiny bulb showing now, still mushed against Cody’s. Lily turned her face down to make sure they didn’t come apart.

“There,” she said, looking at Cody, “was that so hard?”

“I’m not the one with the turtleneck,” Cody said, laughing.

“No,” she said, putting her hands on hips, up on her toes, narrowing her eyes on Cody, who looked at her and flinched, seeing her so close and mean-mugging him like that. Lily said, “For a guy who loves playing games, you sure do kick up a fuss when it’s not going your way.”

Cody laughed at her, his shoulders shaking, trying not to let his dick come away from Philippe’s. “‘Kick up a fuss,’ Lily? You’re from New York, not Tennessee.”

Lily kept on with the mean-mugging, being really cute about it, and Scarlet looked to Carla, who just shrugged. No one could have expected stuck-up Lily could be this fun and quirky.

Lily said, “You’re playing games with me now, cowboy. We’ll see how much you like games when you’re playing them with a player.”

Cody looked at her, all suspicious, eyebrows wriggling quizzically. He laughed again. “What does that mean? Why do you keep saying that? Playing games.”

Lily went to her tippy-toes and met him eyes to eye, Cody still laughing. She said, “I think you know what it means, mister,” dropped back down to her heels and returned to the group of watching ladies, winking at Chey.

Philippe said, “What’s the time, Arlo?”

“Eight . . . Nine...”

“Slowest thirty seconds ever,” Philippe muttered.

Sully still covered his head, curled up like a prawn, but began guessing the time, calling out, “Six . . . Five...”

Carla said, “I’ll drop a hundred if Philippe docks him right now.”

Both guys broke up laughing and their dicks came apart. Lily shoved her hand out, angry finger pointing at their dicks, proclaiming, “Thirty more seconds!”

Both guys covered up their junk now in two hands, their shirts dropped down, trying to talk their way out of it. “Hey, come on, that’s not fair. It was on time, it was on time. It had to be.”

Lily looked to Arlo and Arlo winced and held up a shaky hand, meaning it was iffy whether it was truly on time.

“You gotta give it to us,” Cody complained.

Carla said, “We’ll give it to you for five seconds of docking.”

Cody groaned and sighed, head rocking back again once more. Both the guys looked really good right now, with their muscular bodies, shorts pulled down, beefy tanned forearms and big hands cradling their generous baby-making apparatuses.

“I don’t know what docking is,” Scarlet said, “but I think I’d drop a hundred to see it.”

“Me too,” Chey said.

Paloma looked to Lily like she was the main arbiter. “O que você acha?”

“Okay voca what?”

“You’re the judge, Lily,” Carla said. “What do you think?”

“It does seem fair,” Lily said, considering it and rubbing her dainty chin with the wisdom of Solomon. “I’ll allow it.”

Cody said, “What if I don’t want to get docked?”

“Then you better like holding your dick to Philippe’s for thirty more seconds, chief,” Scarlet said. Carla laughed and slid Scarlet a low-five.

Chey whispered to Scarlet, “What’s a dock?”

“Beats me,” Scarlet said, shrugging.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Carla said.

Cody stared at them all, looking so manly and yet boyish somehow at the same time. A veteran; a surprise apparel mogul who’d somehow moonwalked himself into a multi-million dollar fortune. He studied them, deep in thought, handsome mouth tucked to one side, thick blond hair framing his angular face, both hands supporting his ample man-meat. He said, “How about this: first of all, you can all keep your hundred dollars—”

“Good,” Chey said.

“But,” Cody continued, “I’m going to need to see a little something, you know? For the effort.”

They grumbled in out-of-sync unison, “Like what?”

Cody looked at Philippe, and they both smiled.

Summer Swap 6-16 (Patreon)

“Put our breasts together? That’s what you come up with? What are you guys, like eleven?”

Sully sat up. Now it was getting interesting.

Cody and Philippe regarded each other, plain-faced, shorts hiked down, both hands cupping their junk. Sully blocked out his view of their bare asses. Cody said, “Yeah, basically.”

Cheyenne looked at the other women, all of them smirking in some manner, shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Sully got up and scooted over to the other side, sitting next to Arlo on the sofa’s arm.

Cody said, “And, hey, you just had us put our dicks together and you were all lined up to watch.”

“Yeah,” Chey said, “but we didn’t think about anything like that when we were eleven.”

Scarlet scrunched her eyes and wriggled her nose, like she was thinking really hard, or recollecting. “I think I might have thought of that.”

“You did?”

Scarlet shrugged, did a sheepish look up and to the right. Chey laughed, then said, “Well, whatever, despite what weird Scarlet says”—Scarlet, offended, elbowed her—“what we watched was pretty adult, wouldn’t you say?” She elbowed Scarlet back.

Now Lily’s head peered past Carla. She said, “Are you trying to talk them into making it worse? You’re negotiating for their side.”

“Ah, shit. You’re right,” Chey said. Lily made a good point.

Carla said, “Okay, so what do we get for this, uh, mashing our breasts together thing? We get the docking, right?”

Cody and Philippe conferred in close-headed whispering again. Chey said to Carla, “What is docking? What am I agreeing to?”

Cody held up a hand and showed them four fingers. Chey’s eyes dropped to his half-uncovered man parts. He said, “Four seconds of docking.” He covered up again.

Carla: “We said five.”

“This is a negotiation,” Philippe said.

“So we’ll do it for four seconds, too, then.”

Philippe and Cody got their heads (with the ears) closer together and conferred quietly. They nodded in solemn agreement after a few hushed exchanges, then Cody turned, the duo’s spokesman, saying, “Ten seconds. Breasts to breasts . . . and you kiss each other.”

“Oh my god,” Chey groaned.

Paloma said, “Sim, sim, and you kiss each other too, yes?” She spoke hurriedly, like she was eager to see such a thing.

Cody’s handsome face wriggled in total bafflement, like he’d been stunned with a taser. “What? We’re not kissing each other.”

Carla waggled a thumb at her girl gang. “Then why would we kiss each other?”

Cody, all serious now, like his retort should be obvious for all: “Because none of you can dock or get docked. That’s why. God.” Napoleon Dynamite levels of disdain.

Chey said, “What is docking? We can’t dock?”

Carla went on her toes and cupped a hand to Cheyenne’s ear and whispered something. Cheyenne’s expression assumed the pose of a wolf howling at the moon, but in stunned silence. When Carla went back to her heels, Cheyenne stayed stunned, eyes wide and rolling, her slack mouth staying open. She shook her head to return some sense to her and said, “Yeah, okay, we’ll do that. I mean, I’ll do it.”

Cody and Philippe looked at each other again, then Philippe said, “With who?”

Lily put a hand on each girl’s shoulder, like she was a madam presenting prime brothel girls to some rich businessmen, saying, “Carla. Chey and Carla will do it. How about that?”

This was getting good. Sully would have picked Paloma and Carla, but it would be neat (and, yes, juvenile) to see Carla and Chey do it, too.

Cody frowned as he considered it. “Carla will like it too much. And I can see Carla’s, 24-7.”

Carla said, “This is true.”

Lily said, “Then who?”

Cody smiled. “You.”

Lily jabbed a thumb to her chest. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re not backing out of your own game, are you?” He narrowed his eyes and jutted his face toward her. “You know what I have to do?”

Lily smiled, raised her chin, making cute faces at the sky. “Okay,” she said at last, dropping her face down to look at Cody. “But you guys are all very weird and kinky.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed further. “We’re playing your game.”

“Exactly,” Lily said.

There was something fun and cute about the way Lily was behaving. Sully had never looked at Lily through a lascivious lens, but he couldn’t stop himself now. She’d always seemed morally upright, maybe even prudish, and definitely a good girl who would never behave like she was behaving now. Her whole personality changed when she was having naughty fun. There was something impish or childish about her, and he didn’t know if it was okay or not to get these funny feelings he was having for her.

Chey stepped up to the front of the pack, looking like she was ready to take her top off. Sully leaned close to Arlo, saying, “These are the best seats in the house.”

Both guys looked over at him and stared. “Oh yeah,” he said, smiling wanly. “Those are your wives. Should I see myself out?”

Arlo smiled a little at last and patted his knee.

Cody waved Cheyenne off like he didn’t want her to disrobe. Chey’s face dropped, like he’d hurt her. He said, “No, I think we should go first, me and Philippe.”

“Oh-h, well, well,” Scarlet said. “How generous.”

“Yeah, well, we might not be in the best state to dock after we watch that.” Cody raised his eyebrows and looked at them all, giving them the old ‘you-know-what-I’m-saying?’ face.

Chey said, “Why not?”

Lily said, “Boners.”

Cody shot a quick finger-pistol from his hip at Lily, winking and double-clicking his tongue on his cheek. “Yup. Boners.”

#

Cheyenne had a front-row seat. Somehow she had ended up right where she wanted to be, in the fray, ready to rumble. Cody and Philippe were right in front of her, and she was part of the action. Part of the show. This was an exhibitionist’s wet dream. Who knew she liked so much to have so many eyes on her when she should feel at her most vulnerable? Like having to submit to a dirty task such as pushing breasts with Lily and making out for five seconds.

Everyone was behind her, and they would have to look around her to get a peep at the docking action. Except Sully, who obviously wanted nothing to do with the docking action, curled up on the sofa again, hiding his face. Philippe and Cody squared up, hands cupped between their legs, looking at each other. It might be the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. The sexiest showdown, that was for sure.

“Four seconds,” Cody said.

“Four seconds,” Philippe repeated. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Female bodies closed in behind Chey, everyone settling in to get a good look.

Both men let their genitals go and they fell and swung with beautiful heft. They were both chubbed. Cody rolled his eyes up, not wanting to look, while Philippe took his mighty tool and stretched it and tugged it, then pinched the foreskin and pulled and stretched.

“Here we go,” Philippe said.

“Here we go,” Cody said, looking down now, taking his own dick and holding it by the throat, choking it, stretching it out and readying his cock head. It had plumped up.

Philippe held his about the same way, and steadied it to meet Cody’s, retracting his foreskin, that chubby head of his squeezing out. Scarlet’s hand closed on Chey’s arm just above the elbow and her nails sank in. Scar whispered, “Oh my sweet golly,” and Chey giggled, feeling a wave of delightful lightheadedness.

The guys mushed their supple helmets into one another, and then Philippe let his foreskin go. It rolled outward to swallow his glans, and then he coaxed it further, guiding it to snug up against Cody’s. Then he rolled it further until it climbed over the swelling shape of Cody’s glans.

Chey’s mouth dropped at the ridiculous juvenile spectacle; the sheer libertine exercise of daring and then watching; all the participants pretending to be of a reluctant measure, but deep down everyone here was ready for the worst—they just wanted the excuse to do it.

“There we go,” Philippe said, taking one hand away so everyone could see his foreskin had consumed the end of Cody’s cock. Cody’s glans stretched against Philippe’s foreskin, the coronal ridge rippling under Philippe’s elastic (and veiny) extra skin. Chey had to cover her mouth, stifling a wicked gale of laughter that thumped up her throat. She glanced to the right to see Byron leaning to the side to get a peek, his eyes widening in horror, and her husband let out a disgusted groan, scrunching his eyes shut and retreating back to Arlo’s side. Chey did not shut her eyes, shot them back to see two big beautiful dicks docked before the short amount of time ran out.

At the count of five, Cody stepped back and their two penises disconnected and fell to swing between their legs. Cody gathered up his junk in two hands again and scrubbed them against his hip like it was itchy. He made an ‘ick’ face, and both he and Philippe burst out laughing. Chey turned to see Scarlet’s cheeks blazing red, her eyes wide and shocked. Chey and Scarlet looked at each other and burst out laughing, just like Cody and Philippe. Carla smiled; Lily looked devious and horny, eyes wide but brow lowered.

Both guys rubbed and jostled their junk and walked around in circles, gathering themselves after the wild ordeal, then hiking up their shorts and zipping the flies closed. They shook out their hands and rolled their heads around. Then Cody clapped his hands together and pointed at her with two combined index fingers. “Now it’s your turn, little lady.”

She smiled and bounced her eyebrows, her weight on her toes. “I guess it is,” she said. “You ready, Lily?”

“Uh-huh,” Lily said brightly, pivoting to face her.

Chey said, “Do we have to be topless, or can we put our breasts together under our shirts?”

Cody looked irritated. “What do you think?”

“Just making sure,” she said, crossing her arms over and pulling up her top. Lily did the same. Neither of them wore a bra. They both looked at each other’s breasts and Lily had nicer ones than she’d expected. A debilitating shimmer of shame washed up her back, and it weakened her knees. She loved the feeling. Wished the guys would make her do something way worse. She would do almost anything they asked.

A look to her right showed Sully awake again, watching from the other side, standing up now, wanting to get a good look. Chey looked back to see Arlo and Byron standing; even Carla and Scarlet and Paloma wanted to see.

Arlo said, “You got this, baby.”

Lily said, “Thank you, Da—” She bit her lips and smiled. Lily’s big blue eyes had gone dreamy.

Maybe they were both into this.

Chey said, “Any words of encouragement, Byron?”

Byron said, “Use your tongue.”

Everyone laughed, and that was nice, but she was left wondering if that was a barb from Byron, meaning he thought she was a bad girl who was going to go too far with this. She shook the thought away. If that’s what Byron thought, he should just say it.

As she squared up with Lily in about the same way Philippe and Cody had just done, Philippe said, “Nipple to nipple. Line them up first.”

Cody chuckled. Chey hefted her bosom and steadied them, getting closer to Lily, who did the same. They kept their hands in place until their breasts came together, then slid the hands away. It felt so strange to have a stranger’s breasts touch your own. She did not hate it at all. Lily had soft breasts. Her skin was like silk. But boy, her nipples went hard and she could feel her own nipples pushing into Lily now too. They were face to face and very close, both of them smiling, and neither of them showing any of the hesitation she had expected.

“We can do this,” Lily whispered.

Chey said, “Yes, we can.”

Then Lily pushed her soft mouth against Chey’s, and they both held their breath. And fucking Lily grabbed two handfuls of Chey’s ass in an unexpected clutch and hauled their pelvises together. Chey gasped, and when she did, Lily slid her slippery little tongue right inside Chey’s mouth.

Summer Swap 6-17 (Patreon)

The kiss seemed to go on a lot longer than five seconds, and the tension of it all began to curl Byron’s lip corners into a sly smile. Chey was Miss Big Shot around here these days, flouncing, carefree, but here she was in the clutch of the yacht’s previously most innocent passenger and now set back on her heels, stunned into silence. Or maybe the silence stemmed from Lily’s tongue plugged into Chey’s mouth.

Cody and Philippe watched with bright, joyful faces, and Cody clutched Philippe’s muscular arm for support, like this was far more than they’d hoped for. Lily’s slim hands clutched Chey’s ass cheeks like claws. Pulled and lifted. Chey was on her toes. Lily was on her toes. Their naked breasts were mashed together. Once this kiss was done, Byron’s interior apparatus demanded he get Chey in their bedroom so he could celebrate this wicked escapade.

Carla and Paloma and Scarlet laughed and cackled, swaying with each other, never taking their eyes off the Lily-Chey spectacle. Sully was wide-eyed and exploding with excitement. Arlo watched, but held his hand over his mouth, shaking his head in light wags, a smirk showing between his thumb and forefinger.

Then at last it was done, and Lily retreated, stepping back on her heels and looking to Philippe and Cody, backhanding kiss-spittle from her shiny pink lips. Chey turned, woozy, red-cheeked, eyes wide like Sully. Her eyes were dazzled. Her girl pack laughed even harder. Chey was so stunned she didn’t even think to cover her bared breasts. Her nipples were hardened to raised buds, her swaying breasts flesh blushed from excitement.

Scarlet snapped her fingers before Chey’s face like she was trying to break a friend out of a sideshow hypnotist’s spell, saying, “Chey, Chey—get your top on, hon. Don’t give the show away for free. We gotta make them beg for it.”

Chey looked Scarlet’s way, mumbling, “Yeah,” and putting a forearm over her chest, stooping to retrieve her top. She shimmied it on, looking at Scarlet. “Lily put her tongue right in my mouth.”

“It was kinda hot,” Scarlet said, laughing, taking Chey in for a hug.

But Lily was past it now, unaffected, the sexualized kiss with Chey a thing of the past, covering her chest, snatching her top and putting it on. She clapped her hands, saying, “All right, all right, next round, everybody.”

Carla looked to Chey and Scarlet, her eyebrows high, smile curling. She mouthed, “What the fuck was that, Chey?”

Chey said, “I guess she likes to kiss. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.”

Sully said, “Chey looks like she’s in love,” and Chey gave him the finger.

Lily clapped again, now getting a little bossy and shooing them all with her hands. “Come on, let’s go, show’s over. Everybody back to your seats.”

The mood had definitely changed. They were all people in their late twenties now transformed into silly, hyper over-sexed teens. Byron stayed where he was, Arlo went back to his spot. Sully patted his head as he walked behind the sofa. Everyone got back to their original seats. Chey plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“Did she really put her tongue in your mouth?”

“Byron, I mean, like right away, she did. She kissed me for real. I thought we were just going to goof around and make a show of it.”

He said, “Well, you certainly made a show of it. You entertained the heck out of us.”

“She really got me off guard.”

Yes, he figured Chey had thought she would be the one in charge of that spectacle, but Lily turned out to be top dog. Lily grew leaps and bounds before their eyes; from timid, polite mouse to capable sex-circus ringmaster.

He squeezed his hugging arm to her tighter. “Your cheeks are red.”

“Both cheeks,” Chey said. “Did you see her grab my ass?”

“No, I missed it,” he said.

Chey looked at him in disbelief and he couldn’t hide his laugh. She batted his chest and laughed too.

The game was only beginning, but seeing his wife so riled and set off balance, and feeling her warm lithe body against his, had him anticipating the game’s end. His cock was throbbing with his heartbeat and he had a hot desire to get Chey in bed right now and go to town.

Lily stood while they all sat, holding her phone and readying her finger to initiate the digital spinner.

Byron said, “How many more rounds, Lily?”

“Oh, we’re only getting started, Byron. Like, maybe a hundred rounds. Why, you getting antsy?”

“Maybe,” he said.

Lily hadn’t even looked at him, talking and smiling, but her attention on her phone screen. “Arlo, are you ready? It’s our turn, Da—”

She touched the screen and waited. “Here we go,” she said. “Arlo and Lily versus... Uh-oh...”

Philippe said, “Who is it?”

Lily pointed a finger out, aiming at them all in clockwise turns, then skipped Sully and Scarlet to jab a quick index finger at Cody and Carla. “Ah-hah!”

Carla said, “Us?” and lay a hand on her tanned and ample cleavage.

“Yes, indeed,” Lily said, then checking her app again. “We’re going to need a closet.”

Philippe said, “Seven minutes In Heaven again?”

Lily said, “I’ll probably only need five.”

Carla watched Lily through narrowed eyes. She looked at Arlo. “You and me, Arlo, what do you say—the two of us alone in the closet?”

Arlo chuckled.

Lily said, “No,” with no humor, totally deadpan and serious.

Carla bounced her eyebrows. “You and me then, baby? You want to make out and grab my butt? I wouldn’t hate it at all.”

Lily pointed at Cody. “Me and him. Me and Mister Cody.”

Cody said, “Me again?”

“Yeah, me again, too,” Lily said. “What are you, chicken?”

“I’m not chicken,” Cody said, ready to rise.

Sully complained: “Do we all have to go down again and wait outside the closet?”

Lily shook her head. “No, you guys wait here. We’ll be real quick. Five minutes.”

Philippe said, “Do you need a toilet roll?”

Cody rolled his eyes. Carla sang, “Bigger than,” like doing the toilet roll test would be a waste of time.

Chey fidgeted in Byron’s clutch. He couldn’t help a sickly jealous feeling. Chey had sown so much mistrust that the first thing he thought was that Chey wanted to get in the closet with Cody, or that Chey was jealous that Lily would spend time in the closet with Cody.

Chey sat up and ran her hair from her face, watching Lily and Cody. Cody stood, eyeing Lily, and Lily eyed him right back.

Sully said, “Are we going down with them or not?”

“I said you’re not,” Lily said, keeping her eyes on Cody.

Cody scrutinized Lily, face getting closer to hers, then he laughed and stepped back. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m getting in your head,” Lily said.

Cody looked unbothered, crossing his arms. “No one gets in my head, Lily.”

“I’m in there already,” Lily said, wagging two pronged fingers back and forth between their faces like she was John Cena or something. Cody laughed and tried to grab her fingers, but Lily was too quick for him.

“You ready, cowboy?”

Cody said he was ready and for Lily to lead the way.

Lily said, “We’ll use that closet downstairs where Philippe and Scarlet were.”

Scarlet looked up and away, embarrassed by the reminder of what she and Philippe had done down there while everyone waited for them on the other side of the door.

Lily wouldn’t walk first, gesturing with a hand for Cody to lead the way. Cody said, “No, you go.” Lily said, “Ladies first,” and everyone started laughing. Cody looked bothered.

But then he put on the charm, eyeing Lily slyly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Lily, but you sure are a lot of fun.”

“We’re not even in the closet yet,” she said, and when Cody laughed and walked ahead of her, she scooted past him, elbowing him out of the way.

They disappeared down the steps to the floor below.

Everyone looked at Arlo and Arlo just shrugged, laughing to himself.

Sully said, “How long do we wait until we see if they’re okay and one of them hasn’t thrown the other overboard?”

#

Lily beat Cody to the empty room where they’d all played Seven Minutes in Heaven before, then stopped at the closed door. Cody almost ran into her. She elbowed him again and opened the door, darted in and tried to close it, leaving him in the hall. Cody stuck his knee in and stopped her from doing it. She giggled and ran away, hiding in the closet and shutting the closet door now.

Outside the closet, Cody said, “I know you’re in there, Lily. Aren’t I supposed to be in there, too?”

“Not with your clothes on, you’re not.”

“Are your clothes off?”

She said, “Take your clothes off and come in and see.”

Cody muttered, “You are a lot of fun,” and she listened to him taking his shorts off and slipping the shirt he wore over his head.

She said, “You have to turn off the room light.”

“Hold on.”

She waited, then the room went dark. Cody returned to the closet door. “I’m comin’ in.”

“Your funeral,” she said. Cody laughed. She bounced on her toes with heart-racing anticipation.

The door opened and closed and the small space was filled with Cody’s tanned and muscular bulk smelling like sea salt and soap. The closet was super small. They couldn’t help touching bodies. Cody said, “Hey, you’re still dressed.”

She said, “I need help with my zipper, Daddy.”

There was a long silence, and she tried not to succumb to the throes of a giggle fit threatening to race up her ticklish sides. She shuddered, thinking how Cody tried to make sense of the situation.

Cody said, “What?”

“I said I need help with my zipper, Daddy,” all helpless little-girl cute.

“Uh, okay,” he said. “What, you want me to get it for you?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, doing big exaggerated little-girl nods even though he couldn’t even see her.

Cody got real close and his hands touched her tummy, then dropped to locate the top of her shorts. He found her zipper and began to tug it down.

She said, “I think I should have tinkled first, Daddy.”

Cody paused, her zipper half pulled down. She almost lost herself in a barrage of giggles, but clamped down on her lips to keep it at bay.

Cody said, “Daddy, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she hummed again. Cody unzipped her fly and twisted open her button.

Now she said, “Can you get my shorts down, Daddy? I’m so tired. It’s almost time for sleepies.” She yawned.

This time, Cody chuckled. “You’re a little girl who wants her panties down?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, pushing her body up against his. He thumbed down her shorts, and she pressed her cheek against his bare chest. Without needing to ask him to do it, Cody lifted up her shirt, and she raised her arms to allow it.

She said, “Do I have to have a bath tonight, Daddy?” whining, being cute still.

“I think you can skip it, Lily.”

Cody wanted to play along. She upped the ante.

She said, “I have swimming lessons tomorrow, anyway,” and made to scratch her head, purposefully moving her hand up to bat Cody’s dangling privates. Cody grunted.

She waited a beat, then full of innocent questioning, she said, “What was that thing, Daddy? What did you bring in here for me?”

“Uh... I...”

She fanned her hand in the dark, looking for it. She found it, big and soft and gummy, and gripped it. Then she gasped and let it go, bustled to the farthest edge of the closet and whimpered. “What is that thing, Daddy? What is it?”

“Um... Hey...”

“Is it... Is that attached to you, Daddy? Is that your boy thing? Why’s it... Why’s it so big?”

Cody cleared his throat. “Okay, Lily, come on. Knock it off.”

In the dark, she smiled to herself, ear to ear.

Summer Swap 6-18 (Patreon)

No one else acted like it was a big deal, but Cody and Lily were down there for more than five minutes. Chey’s knee bounced, her toes jittering on the teak floor. Byron held her hand, but her hand was all sweaty. She switched hands and wiped her palm on the sofa cushion. Sully and Byron were trading insults across the coffee table, laughing with each other.

She said, “It’s been more than five minutes.” Byron looked at her, his smile faltering. She jutted her face towards his, widening her eyes. “Don’t you want to keep playing?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyebrows raising.

It’s not that she was jealous. Not that at all. It’s just the game had reached a good cruising altitude and now they were in a boring holding pattern, doing circles over Albuquerque or some shit.

Carla looked at her watch. “Yeah, Chey, but it took them a few minutes probably to get down to the closet.”

“Yeah, I know but...”

Byron gave her a funny look again.

“You know it’s our turn next,” she said.

Now he smiled again, just a little. “I know,” he said. “They’ll be back in a second.”

Sully said, “I hope Cody’s okay. Lily seems out to get him.”

Scarlet leaned forward to see Carla, saying, “Yeah, what’s that about?”

Carla said, “Beats me,” then looked at Arlo. Arlo shrugged and smiled.

Lily had said she only needed five minutes. What did that mean? Five minutes to do what? Under normal circumstances, Cody spending time with Lily Dixon would be no big whoop, but Lily and that kiss...? What could Lily be doing now (and doing it with Cody)?

Chey said, “Should we move on to the next round?”

Byron said, “How? Lily’s the MC, and what if our challenge is with one of their teams, Lily’s or Cody’s?”

“Yeah, no, I know,” she said, slumping forward while Byron scrutinized her.

#

“A boy showed me his once, but it wasn’t like that, Daddy.”

“Okay, Lily,” Cody said, trying out the voice of reason.

“Can I touch it again, Daddy?”

“You can, if you stop calling me Daddy.”

She had to clap both hands over her mouth in the dark closet, almost snickering. The closet got hot, and she was sure it was from Cody’s intense discomfort.

“But I’m just your babygirl, Daddy. I don’t want to upset you. Don’t be mad at me.” She moved closer and softly leaned her naked body against his. She moved her hands slowly so she wouldn’t scare him away, closed them around his equipment, one hand milking his big man part, the other cupping his balls. “I guess they get bigger when you grow up.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, uninvolved, quiet, detached.

She smiled again, then turned her face up to his though they couldn’t see each other.

She said, “Daddy?”

He said, “Lily.” On the verge of scolding.

She said, “Will my gee-gee get all big when I get older?”

Cody sounded pained. “What? Gee-gee?”

“My little thing.” She held his flaccid cock upright and waggled it. “This wouldn’t fit inside my little gee-gee, Daddy.”

“Okay, seriously, Lily...” He tried to get out of her grip, but his back was already against the closet wall.

All affright, she said, “This would hurt my little gee-gee, Daddy.”

Cody made a sound of greatly heightened disgust, laughing, but still so uncomfortable, pushing her hands away and covering up his genitals.

“You don’t think it would, Daddy? Did you want to try? We can maybe put some slippery stuff on it...”

“Oh my fucking god, Lily, holy shit,” Cody said, severed from the fun, pushed too far, trying to open the closet and flee. She grabbed his hands and stopped him. “Okay, okay,” she said. “I didn’t know you were so prudish.”

“I’m not, it’s just...”

She ran her fingernails in wiggly lines from his ribs to his hipbones and it made Cody dance around and laugh.

“Oh, you’re ticklish, too, huh? You and Philippe? You big guys are maybe just little boys.”

“I’m not ticklish,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s...”

She leaped into him and hugged her arms around his back, pushing her cheek into his chest. “What is it, Daddy? What’s wrong?”

“That,” he said, laughing again, all awkward, trying to pry her off of him.

She hugged him harder, dug her chin into his thick chest muscle and whined, “What, Daddy? Are you mad at me?”

“Not mad, Lily, not mad,” he said, rushed, voice tight, chuckling, but not with humor, more out of nervousness.

She slid down his body and got on her knees between his legs, his ding dong batting the crown of her head. She pleaded, “Can I make it better, Daddy? I can be a good little girl, you know? Just like you taught me...” She launched kisses and nibbles to his upper thighs, right on either side of his frank and beans, and Cody practically climbed up the wall backward like a frightened house cat.

Now he called her name, but not so friendly, more urgent, stooping to grab her upper arms and pull her up to stand in front of him.

“You’re mad at me,” she said poutingly.

“I’m not mad, Lily,” he said. “You’re freaking me out with that little girl shit.”

She pouted and squeaked a childish grunt, pulled away from him, turned to face the closet corner like a scolded child.

Cody said, “Are you seriously pouting in the corner?”

“No,” she murmured, wondering if sucking her thumb would go too far and send him flying out of the closet altogether.

He said, “Is this the game? See how long I can spend in the closet with you before you scare me away? That’s it, right? What if I scare you out of here first, Lily? Do I win then?”

“Fat chance scaring me, buster,” she said, turning around, deciding she had him where she wanted him. Aroused and playful, but not yet erect.

“So what’s the game, then?”

“We play around,” she said, no more little girl voice, smiling in the dark where Cody couldn’t see it.

Slow and suspicious, he said, “Play around at what?”

“You like games, right?”

“You keep saying that like there’s some bigger meaning.”

“I know. There is. Games go with what...? I’ll tell you. Toys. You like toys?”

“Games and toys, huh? I like toys. Sure,” he said, more confident. “I like toys.”

“Good. ‘Cause I got one just for you when I was on the island today.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, can I show it to you? Are you . . . game?”

#

Philippe said, “Chey’s getting antsy. You were on a roll, weren’t you?”

Chey turned to Byron. “See, Philippe gets it.”

Byron said, “Gets what?”

She said, “You keep looking at me like I’m doing something wrong. I’m not doing anything.”

He said, “I didn’t say you were doing anything.”

“The way you keep looking at me,” she muttered, putting her elbows on her knees and resting her face in her hands. Her jittering foot made her head bounce. She chewed her cheek. What was it? Was she jealous? Was she eager? He knew it was a combo of both. He could be mad at her, thinking it was his wife being jealous over another woman spending sexy time with her yacht crush, but he’d also seen the way Chey’s cheeks had reddened when Lily had kissed her. Chey had an exhibitionist streak, and she loved being the naked center of attention. The more humiliating, the better. Maybe she really did just want that spinner to spin and tell her what she had to do next and with whom. But, yeah, the truth was also probably that Chey hoped the spinner landed on Cody.

And speak of the devil, the man in question’s heavy footsteps came thundering up the steps from the level below. He appeared on their deck in comical disarray. He was naked from head to toe, his long blond hair disheveled, his eyes wide like he was in shock. He held both hands over his privates. Everyone looked his way, smiles cocked, ready to laugh at whatever he might say next.

He said. “Where is she? Is she up here? Did she come this way?”

All sly and mean, Carla said, “Who are we talking about, dear?”

“Lily,” Cody said, not joking, not fun, all business. “Did she come up here?”

Philippe, with his arm hauled over the back of the couch, turning to see Cody standing behind him and Paloma, said, “Did she take your clothes?”

“Yeah, she took my clothes.”

Philippe laughed first, then they all joined in.

Cody said, “It’s not funny. That’s not all she did.” Now he turned, his perfect male body lit in starlight and fancy low-voltage halogens, going back to the top of the stairs, round butt cheeks flexing, scanning to see if he could peep Lily somewhere on the deck below or maybe in any of the windows, though they were all smoked glass.

Sully said, “What did she do, buddy? Did she steal your pee-pee, too?” Scarlet loved it, clapping her hands and falling back on the sofa in silent hilarity next to her funny husband.

And beside him, Byron was aware of Chey’s physical tension, like she wanted to jump up and go to Cody’s side, console him since he was so obviously upset, but restrained herself for her husband’s sake.

Cody stomped back. “What did she do? What did she do, Sully?” He stomped a few steps closer so Sully could see. Then in grand but angry revelation, he opened his hands up and exposed himself to Sully. Sully pulled his face away, not wanting to see Cody’s junk up so close. “You see that? You see that? That’s what she did, Sully.”

No one else looked away. There was a collective gasp of puzzled awe. Chey gawked. Byron did too, squinting, leaning closer, trying to make out what was happening between Cody’s legs.

Cody’s dick and balls were in some kind of contraption, dick held in a clear silicon case, a shiny ring circling tight around his whole deal (balls and dick). His penis was sealed inside the clear plastic sleeve, the sleeve attached to the ring, and locked in place with a small silver padlock.

Carla laughed and covered her mouth. Arlo hid his face. Scarlet’s jaw dropped. Philippe laughed and Paloma made a sound of feminine consolation.

Cody said, “Yeah, a fucking chastity cage!”

Sully laughed so hard he fell into Scarlet. Byron broke up laughing, too. Fucking Lily Dixon. Who could have seen this coming? It was an incredible move.

Carla dropped her hands to her lap. “How did she get it on you? You let her?”

“I didn’t know what it was,” Cody said, stalking back to the top of the stairs. He shouted from there: “She said it was a toy!” He stomped back, covering his locked privates again. “She had it in the closet, like on the shelf over our heads. She was like, ‘You want to see a toy? I got it just for you, Cody. I had to get a big one.’”

Carla cackled and clapped her hands. Arlo looked up to the sky and shook his head, biting his smile away.

Cody did not see the humor. “I want my dick out of this. Like now.”

Chey gasped, seeing the big picture. “Oh no, I get it—Lily’s run off with the key!”

Summer Swap 6-19 (Patreon)

They were all together in the yacht’s most frequented room on the fourth level, all of them stooped or on tip-toes, looking to find Lily wherever it might be she was hiding. Sully looked behind the couch, Chey behind the curtains. Carla wandered with arms crossed, and Cody kept shouting out Lily’s name. He’d donned new shorts and a T-shirt, but couldn’t stop playing with the uncomfortable caged bulk behind his fly, grabbing, tugging, scratching.

Byron said, “We should split up, gang.”

Philippe laughed. Chey said, “We do have a lot of rooms to search.”

Byron said to Chey, “I thought Scarlet would be the Daphne. You want to be Velma?”

Paloma said, “Who’s Daphne?”

Chey rolled her eyes. “Oh, I get it. Scooby Doo.”

Philippe explained to Paloma in Portuguese what the joke was.

Arlo stood near Carla in the center of the room, not even trying to help them look. He said, “Guys, we’re never going to find her. She can curl up really small. When she hides, she hides.”

Cody huffed, his nostrils flaring. “Is she okay? Like mentally?”

Arlo looked offended. “Yeah, of course she is. She’s having the time of her life right now. All these years we thought we were the freaks, and we had to keep it secret. Turns out we’re not so freaky after all, not in the comparative sense.”

Byron regarded Arlo from behind, in three-quarter profile. Arlo had just admitted to them all that it wasn’t just Lily who was the surprise freak, but that he was too. He said, “What are you into?”

Arlo turned. “What do you mean?”

“Your kink. You said you guys were freaks. What kind of freaks? What’s your thing?”

“Me? My thing?” Arlo scratched his arm, shifted his eyes. “Basically anything Lily tells me to be into.”

Carla studied Arlo with a measure of warmth and of admiration.

Scarlet said, “She could be anywhere. This boat is—”

Sully said, “Ship.”

“Whatever,” Scarlet said. “Yacht. This yacht is huge. There’re like five levels, all those bedrooms, the whole engine room, like, she could be anywhere. Shouldn’t we just go back to where the game was and wait for her to show up?”

“Not so urgent,” Cody said, “when it’s not your fuzzy little box locked up, is it?”

Scarlet said, “Good luck tricking me into locking up my box. You put your dick in a cage and didn’t wonder why?”

“She said it was a toy, Scarlet.”

Carla soothed her husband, stroking his chest. The voice of reason, she said, “Let’s just go back to the table and wait to see what she has planned. Okay?”

“Just get me a toolbox,” Cody said. “I’ll be out of this thing in a minute.”

“No one’s putting snips or blades anywhere near my man’s sensitive treasures.”

“I’m getting this cage off my dick, Carla.”

“Oh, no you’re not.”

Cody looked at Carla, features pinched, part disdain, part questioning. “Oh, I’m not?”

Carla smoothed her hands on his chest some more. “I know my big strong army man can get his dick out if he wanted, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Where’s the fun in it? The fun is that I can use my dick.”

“I thought you were up for this challenge?”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re acting like my favorite macho man, but look, baby, this is fun. I want to see where it goes.”

“Well, it’s going places without my dick. So...”

“Baby, I think you got out-played. Say it with me...”

“Say what?”

“Say it: respect.”

Cody’s mouth fidgeted around, his eyes narrowed, shifting from left to right. He began to smile. “Respect,” he muttered, seeing it now.

“Lily got you.”

He nodded. “She got me good.”

“We want to see how this plays out.”

“Okay.”

Byron said, “I wonder what she has in store for you?”

***

It was just outside in the fresh night air that Lily made her appearance at last. High above their heads, maybe twenty feet above, a dark figure appeared at the edge of the yacht’s helipad and looked down upon them. Byron spotted her first, alerting them. They all looked up.

The cloaked figure switched on a battery powered lantern and held it outward. It was Lily and the cloak she wore was just a blanket wrapped around her, right up over her head and forming a cowl-like hood. Scarlet snorted and covered her mouth. Lily set down the lantern so the light cast up on her body from below in a dramatic fashion. She held something else outward now, something small and shiny, pinched between thumb and forefinger.

Chey gasped. “The key!”

Scarlet snorted again behind her cupped hand, and then toed the back of Chey’s knee, making Chey drop a few inches. Chey shot her a dirty look. Scarlet snorted more.

With the blanket flapping in the light breeze, and the held-out key, Lily looked to Byron like some oracle in a post-apocalyptic world. Holding the chastity-cage key high above her head like a powerful magical totem, an ancient thing of power, something Sauron would amass orcish armies to seek.

Byron said, “This is the best night ever.”

He looked to see if anyone agreed. Carla was standing right next to him, face turned up, eyes dazzled by what she saw. Carla said, “This is amazing. Maybe the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sully agreed. “The drama, the theater...”

Arlo said, “She went to art school.” He shrugged, put his hands in his pockets. “Minored in theater.”

Carla made the fingers-to-mouth gesture of a chef’s kiss towards Lily, eyes up in wonder at this incredible spectacle.

Cody cupped his hands to his mouth and called up to her. “What do I have to do to get that key?”

Lily smiled, pulled the cowl hood over one eye like the Phantom of the Opera, lowered the key and popped it into her mouth. Then she enacted the cartoonish theater of swallowing, Vaudeville style, making the gulp sound and all.

Cody said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Everyone else cracked up. After a long moment of breathless laughter and some applause, Cody said, “It probably comes with two keys.”

Lily smiled and held up a finger, an instruction for them to wait. She presented another shiny key, then did the same all over again. Everyone but Cody laughed. When they all applauded her performance, Lily bowed for them, stage left, stage right, full ceremonial bows as if they were also throwing roses up to her feet on the the helipad stage.

Cody muttered, “I’m getting a fucking toolbox.”

Carla laughed and threw her arms around her husband. “You’re just going to have to suffer, handsome.”

Cody said, “Yeah, but for how long?”

Byron said, “I think you have to wait about nine hours, then find it in her poop.”

***

Scarlet greeted Lily as she climbed down the ladder from the helipad and joined them on the deck, putting her arms around her to protect her from the gathering crowd. She said, “I think you might be my hero, Lily.”

Then they were surrounded. Cody was direct. “I want that key, Lily.”

Scarlet said, “You saw she swallowed it, Cody. What do you want to do, maker her barf it up.” Lily giggled and Scarlet cuddled her.

Cody said, “My dog ate a whole bowl of cherries once, and the vet said to give him hydrogen peroxide to make him barf.”

Scarlet said, “What kind of psycho vet do you have? Did your dog barf up these precious cherries?”

“Cherry pits are toxic, Scarlet. And you’re missing the point.” Now Cody said to Carla, “Do we have any hydrogen peroxide?”

Carla said they probably did, maybe in the first aid kit, and Cody asked Byron to go fetch it.

Byron said, “Why me? I don’t care if your dick’s locked up. I think it’s funny.”

Chey said to Lily, “Were those the real keys you swallowed?”

Lily shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Carla held out her hands to get control of the anxious group. She said to Lily, “What’s next, Lily-bug? What’s the next part of your game?”

Lily hid behind Scarlet, peeking around her hair at the rest of the gang. In a strange and creaky voice, one Scarlet surmised was the voice of her blanket-shrouded oracle, Lily said, “What am I when I'm tall when I'm young, but I’m short when I'm old?”

Cody said, “Knock it off, Lily. You’re creeping me out.”

Carla elbowed Cody, her eyes still on Lily and smiling wide, eyes full of intrigue. “You’re a candle. What’s next.”

Now Lily extended an arm over Scarlet’s shoulder and curled her finger like an inch worm, each wiggle on a syllable, creaking, “Yes, my pretty one, you are correct!”

Scarlet watched Byron laugh so hard he folded over. Sully was having a hoot as well. Scarlet chuckled and it made Lily’s creepy talking-finger nod up and down.

“Quit laughing, redhead,” Lily said in the ancient oracle’s voice, “you’re making me sea-sick.”

Even Chey began to laugh. Paloma watched wide-eyed, like this was the craziest thing she’d ever seen from any of her American friends. Philippe’s smile showed white in his dense black beard. Cody’s brow furrowed and he showed a distinct worry in his eyes.

Cody pleaded, “Lily, please...”

Lily croaked now, “Yes, your treasure is trapped and it wants its freedom.” She gave him a teasing finger wiggle, still hiding behind Scarlet, who faced the rest of them just like Lily, getting the best seat in the house, Lily’s hot breath tickling her shoulder.

Cody said, “What’s wearing a blanket and about to go overboard?”

Lily giggled and taunted Cody some more. “I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost every person. What am I?”

“Uh, you’re my dick? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“You’re getting warmer,” Lily croaked. “But if I were your willy”—now she clamped a hand over her mouth and said in a muffled creak—“I would sound like this.”

Sully-boy was red-faced with laughter. Byron had to turn away. Chey was fixated, like she was intent on solving the riddles so she could free her favorite penis in the whole wide world. Arlo admired his wife, arms crossed, eyes filled with joyful mirth.

“I just have to say,” Carla said, “I think I’m in love with Lily Dixon.”

Lily croaked to Cody, “I am bullion. And you are bull. Bull dick, get it?”

“It’s not funny,” Cody said.

Lily’s finger wiggled. “Then why is everybody laughing so hard?”

Cody looked around and admonished all his friends, all of them busting up except for Chey who was on Team Cody. Cody said, “Because they’re all idiots, that’s why.”

Sully said, “And this is coming from the guy who stuck his dick in a mousetrap.”

“She said it was a toy.”

“Give us a clue, Lily,” Carla said.

Lily said now, “What has keys but can’t open locks?”

Chey said, “Is this a real clue, Lily?”

Before Lily could even answer, Cody shouted, “A piano!” And then he was gone, racing back inside the yacht’s top level, bursting past the doorway. He was gone before anyone could even react. Then one by one they sputtered their own disbelieving laugh.

“Holy shit, this is awesome,” Philippe said. Paloma spoke obvious words of encouragement aimed at Lily in her native tongue.

Carla took Lily under her arm, saying, “Are we heading to the piano, or is my husband on a goose chase?”

Lily—oracle voice gone, back to normal now—said, “Let’s see what our bull has found in the parlor.”