SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 36

From the hand railing above the swimming deck, Byron peered down to see Cody and Philippe hanging out in the sunshine, having a good time. Cody’s back was to him, but Philippe leaned the small of his back on the railing, smiling at whatever Cody was telling him. Philippe’s eyes trailed up to see Byron watching and the smile waned. He gave Byron a good morning nod and then made a face to Cody, nudging his chin up to Byron. Cody turned, shielded his eyes from the sun, saw Byron, and said, “Morning.” They all knew it was time to talk.

Only thing was, Byron didn’t want to face Cody and Philippe one-on-two. He’d rather talk to them individually. But this was the way he found them and there was no time to be squeamish. Plus, two birds with one stone and all that. At least he’d only have to go through this once.

Cody said, “Hey Byron, stay there, we’re going to come up.”

Byron nodded, grim-faced, then assumed a spot on one of the loungers. Then changed his mind, not wanting to be too horizontal—that wasn’t a power position. Instead he got up and took a spot that had him sitting up right, his back to the view. The sun was in his face a little but it was better than to be seen taking it easy while you were chastising two guys who were bigger than you. From this angle he could see into the yacht’s third floor cabin, Chey engaged with Carla somewhere beyond. Cody and Philippe appeared, the two of them mounting the steps then coming around through the lounge to join him out in the sunshine.

Already, Cody’s expression had contorted to a look of apology. There was no doubt they both knew what the conversation was to be. It would cut down on introductions. Philippe sat on the lounger on the left, and Cody the one on the right. Not sagging on them, but sitting on the footrests, elbows on knees, leaning towards Byron.

Cody put up a hand to pause anything Byron might want to say. “Before you start, man, right away—I’m a let you go off on us—but I gotta say first, for me”—touching five fingers to his chest—“I fucked up, Byron. I fucked up big time. But, look, it wasn’t malice, it was carelessness. It slipped my mind how this was your guys’ first time.”

Philippe was right on Cody’s heels: “Me too, Byron. It was really not cool to not throw you a signal, let you know Chey wanted that.”

Byron scowled a dubious expression at Philippe. “Don’t try to tell me she asked for that.”

Philippe was the one contorting into apology. “Oh man, no, I didn’t mean she asked for that. Cody just thought—”

“It was like spur of the moment, Byron. I know it looks like we shit on your chest here. I’m trying to think of the best way to convince you— Look, I forgot about you. I admit it. You matter, man, you totally matter. For real. But, Cheyenne, was like—” Cody puffed out his cheeks as he struggled to explain himself.

Byron said, “You guys usually disparage a guy’s wife when you apologize? Sounds like you want to blame Chey for your fuck up.”

Cody showed a pained expression, then sagged. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Byron studied the guy’s good-looking masculine hand—then thought how it had smoothed itself all over Cheyenne’s naked flesh last night and how two—maybe even three—of those fingers had gone inside her. A sudden surge between his legs got him gulping in a hiss of air and raising his eyebrows. What an awful fucking thought.

Cody said, “You’re right, man. That’s how it sounds.” He looked up now, lowering his hands, clapping them together between his knees and locking fingers. Now when he spoke, he moved the clasped hands up and down for emphasis, pleading with Byron. “I’m terrible at this, I guess. What I mean is, I was tuned into Cheyenne and—”

“And she was just so hog-wild, you took her for a swapping veteran?”

Cody winced. “Man, you’re really mad.”

“Of course I’m mad, Cody. I did what was expected of me with Carla. And what the fuck did you do?” In his periphery, Philippe grimaced, a conciliatory suggestion that Cody had indeed done terrible things to Cheyenne. Byron continued: “You brought in a stranger. Not to me, I know Philippe, but I had no idea he would know what was going on. So not only did you break my trust, you exposed what Chey and I were doing—a really private fucking thing—to someone else that I never agreed to.” Then to Philippe, he said, “No offense.”

Cody pinched his nose again. “Fuck, you’re right, Byron.”

Philippe said, “Me knowing is like no one knowing, Byron, cross my heart.” He drew an x on his chest with the point of a big index finger.

To Philippe, he said, “But that’s up to me to decide, wouldn’t you agree?”

“A hundred percent,” Philippe said.

“So how does it happen? How do you do something so wrong?”

Cody saw there was no excuse, no explanation Byron was looking for. Byron only looked for one thing. Cody said, “You’re right, Byron. I fucked up big time. Carla let me have it this morning. I know I’m an idiot. Dude, I am sorry. That fuck up is all on me.” He rested his hand over his heart and nodded once, solemnly, his eyes meeting Byron’s. The sunlight kicked up a sparkling Caribbean blue in Cody’s eyes, and the sudden revelation of deep and beautiful color hit him in the gut. Cody was kind of beautiful, for a man, and for sure he turned Cheyenne on.

There was a awkward expanse of silence for a long moment, and Philippe broke it. “Normally, Byron, you can totally trust Cody with this kind of thing. I swear it. He fucked up.”

Byron’s head swiveled toward Philippe. “And what about you?”

“I should have known better.” He exhaled and looked at the floor between them, eyebrows tented like he was forlorn. “Truth was, Cody texted me and I was so fucking excited I jumped out of bed.”

“No time to think.”

Philippe looked up. “Honestly, no.”

“Any chance to get a look at Cheyenne.”

“Pretty much.”

Something about that tightened his stomach and made him uneasy. “Have you guys talked about Cheyenne before? I mean about luring her into this?”

Cody and Philippe exchanged uncomfortable looks and each made a funny croaking sound in their throat—both of them obviously wanting to answer in the affirmative but unwilling to commit to it.

“Really? You fucking lusted after my wife for years?”

They both looked caught and guilty and looking for his understanding.

“How come it took you so long to make a move?”

Cody said, “Carla does have a crush on you, dude—”

“Oh shit. I didn’t even think of that. Like I was an afterthought. That this was all about getting Cheyenne into bed with you two.”

“Hey, not me,” Philippe said. “I’m only guilty of thinking Cheyenne is hot. This was Cody’s idea. Not a me and Cody idea.”

“For real, Byron,” Cody said. “We’re not some sex cult or something. I really, really like Chey, and Carla really, really likes you. Philippe ended up in the room last night only for Chey’s sake. This is what I’m saying: I wasn’t trying to include Philippe—though buddy here is in a long ass dry spell—I was playing along with Chey. I tried to rope you but she wasn’t into it—”

“Not yet at least,” Philippe said.

Cody said, “Yeah. It’s her thing. I mean it. She’s a little reluctant. I tried bringing you in. Chey’s an exhibitionist, Byron, I swear. It’s her fantasy.”

Byron’s fingers tingled with cold. There was a great fear that Cody wasn’t bullshitting, that Cody was right. Chey had sexual desires she’d never have discovered and enjoyed if left to Byron. He never would have lured this sex demon inside his wife to the surface. She’d have been happy without it, but was happier with it. Or at least more satisfied.

“I thought she’d be cool with Philippe because she hung out with us all day. She’s a good sport, you know, tossing the ball with us, swimming and all that. Plus, you know, she went dipping with us—no suits, right? So I figured maybe she’d be cool with Philippe rather than you—to begin with.”

“And Cheyenne responded,” Byron muttered.

Both guys grumbled with lecherous affirmation. That charged Byron up even more. Two men who’d been with her last night acknowledging how hot his wife is and how horny she was. Paired with all the things Cheyenne had told him about what happened, his cock hardened painfully, and he squashed his thighs together on it. All of a sudden he had a strange urge to do it all over again. To get to tonight as fast as possible and maybe all five of them could get together in a room and they’d have a wild orgy and he’d get his cock sucked by Carla and he’d watch Cody pound the shit out of Chey while she bawled sexual nonsense and Philippe watched them all, stroking his monster cock.

Byron exhaled, squeezed thighs tighter agains his throbbing erection and swallowed, dry and hesitant. “Yeah, she told me.”

Philippe said, “Told you what?” His tone was dull and clipped, showing no inflection. They didn’t want to rat Chey out by accident, not spilling all the bean just because Byron told him he knew what the beans were.

“You’d cover up for her?”

Cody said, “We’re just being considerate.”

Byron sat back, thighs still clamped on his cock so they wouldn’t see it. “I don’t like that.”

Cody and Philippe exchanged looks again, their eyes darting over one another’s trying to communicate without words. Cody leaned forward, hands clasped again, head bowed. Then he looked up. “I fucked her while Philippe watched.”

God, his cock just about sprang up with the excitement of hearing his wife referred to as a function. He said to Philippe, “And what about you?”

Philippe looked up, like he was embarrassed. “Well, I watched.”

“Just watched?”

Philippe looked from side to side. “More than watched.”

“Did you join in?”

Philipp jolted. “What? No. Did she say—”

“Easy,” Byron said. “No, she didn’t say that. She told me what you did.”

Philippe eased. “Okay,” he said, satisfied.

But the talk existed Byron and he couldn’t shut up. “She watched you do it?”

Philippe nodded. Both Philippe and Cody had looks on their faces that probably mimicked. All three guys turned on by Cheyenne. Cheyenne Bishop. Byron’s wife. An urge to find his sweet little woman tugged at him. Find her, grab her hand and march her into their estate room. Fuck her again. And again. Fuck her all day long. It had been years since they had a day like that. Maybe they hadn’t even had one day like that since they were married.

He faced Cody. “What happened to the condom?”

Cody bit his lower lip, then slowly let it plop out. “Sorry, dude. Cheyenne took it off me. I didn’t stop her.”

“I didn’t either,” Philippe said. “But I didn’t know it was a rule.”

“It wasn’t,” Cody said. “We just used them. I brought them but Cheyenne didn’t make me. Was that a hard rule, Byron?”

Byron sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes and his cheeks like he was using soap and water, though his hands were cold and dry as a bone. He ruffled his own hair, stretched back so far in his chair he could look straight up at the sky. His cock ached and was as hard an iron bar. He could strike it on the hand railing and it would ping out like metal on metal. His balls rolled around in his sack and he could feel himself leaking pre-come. He thought of sunset and Carla and Carla’s mouth and, oh God yes, putting this iron bar between her milky jugs and ejaculating on her face. But foremost on his mind was Cheyenne. Watching the things Cheyenne wanted to show him.

He leaned forward and regarded both his friends. “Rules are made to be broken,” he said soberly.