SUMMER SWAP // Part 1 // Chapter 2

When they returned to the top deck, their friends were waiting for the result. It was Carla up ahead of him, hopping up on the deck and waiting for him to join her.

Scarlet said, “Well?”

“Drumroll please,” Carla said, and Arlo abided her, drumming his fingers on the table top. There were less people on the top deck then there should be. Byron scanned, looking to see who was missing. Cheyenne wasn’t here. Was there someone else not here? He said, “Where’s Cheyenne?”

Carla said, “Byron is longer than a toilet paper roll.”

Scarlet exclaimed, “Yeah,” and clapped her hands, winking at him. Lily joined in, smiling at him affectionately, clapping her hands. Arlo laughed.

Cody said, “You guys were sure down there long enough.”

Carla squeezed in behind Amy, saying, “What?—we had to fuck, Cody, what do you think?”

“Such a bitch,” Cody laughed, and Carla leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He rested a hand on her bare thigh, thumb stroking her skin.

Byron said again, “Where’s Cheyenne?”

Scarlet said, “Girth?” leaning back in her chair to get Carla’s attention. “Carla— girth?”

“Not so good,” Carla said, and Scarlet laughed.

“Aw, you guys are so cruel,” Cody said.

Byron squeezed in past Arlo, and took a spot on the bench seat leaning back on the aluminum railing. “Did you miss the part where I’m longer than the toilet paper tube, dip shit? Where’s Cheyenne?”

Scarlet said, “Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“You guys were down there so long we played the next hand. She’s off doing her dare.”

“Oh yeah?” Byron said. “What’s Cheyenne’s dare?”

Cody said, “Touché, pal. Toilet tube test or whatever you call it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cheyenne lost her hand just like you,” Cody said.

Scarlet waved at him. “Sorry, buddy. I picked the same thing.”

“What do you mean? Toilet tube test with who?”

“With Philippe.”

“Are you serious?” Byron said. “Wait, she’s down doing the toilet tube test with Philippe?”

Sullivan thought this was uproarious, holding his stomach and laughing. “Oh how the tables have turned. This guy practically fucking tripped over himself trying to get down stairs to do it with Carla.”

Byron said, “I didn’t even know what it was, Sullivan.”

Scarlet said, “Well, if it makes you feel better, Cheyenne doesn’t know what it is either.”

“How long’s she been down there?”

Cody said, “You know how it is. Long enough to fuck.”

“Are you guys fucking with me? Is this part of my fucking dare? See how long I can keep my shit together?”

They all laughed, and while he liked provoking humor, he was scanning their faces. It had to be a joke. “You’re joking right?”

“What? No we’re not joking. Cheyenne’s doing the toilet test thing with Philippe.

Cody nudged his arm. “Just go down there, kick the door in.”

Carla put two fists in front of her mouth milking and circling, miming the act of sucking a cock.

“Oh my God,” Cody said, mimicking Cheyenne’s voice, “you’re so much longer and thicker than a toilet tube.”

“I’ve never seen anything thicker than a toilet tube,” Carla said in the same voice, almost unintelligible because she was laughing so hard.

Arlo groaned and sat back saying, “You guys are fucking twisted. I mean seriously. Holy shit . . .”

“What?” Steve said. “We’re only joking.”

Arlo said, “Yeah, but seriously, miming that, like she’s down there blowing him? It’s funny, but seriously, that shit hurts.”

“I can take it,” Byron said. “There’s no way Cheyenne—”

Cody said, “Is sucking his cock?”

Sullivan said, “Oh my God, what an asshole.”

“I’m still joking,” Cody said, acting incredulous that nobody else thought this was funny.

“Who’s next, anyway?” Scarlet said.

Arlo said, “I’m up,” and took his spot in the chair for the guys’ side, waiting for Scarlet to shuffle cards.

But now Byron’s leg was jumping, trying to act casual, leaning back on the cushy bench seat of the top deck on the boat. He was looking out into the blackness, listening to the soft breeze pinging the wind chime hanging on the deck below them and the soft lapping of the waves against the boat’s hull.

Cheyenne right now was downstairs in the bathroom with a guy he hardly really knew, and this guy had his dick out. They were going to measure his dick together. Cheyenne was going to see if Philippe’s dick was bigger than a toilet paper tube.

What if it was bigger? What if it was way bigger than toilet paper tube?

Or what if it was smaller?

What if tonight when you got into bed Cheyenne realized how lucky she was? That was possible too.

He chewed his cheek and shook his head. Every time his mind wandered and fell onto the thoughts of what Cheyenne was doing right now in the bathroom with a guy who’s shorts were probably down mid-thigh.

But Cheyenne was only doing what he had done with Carla. Nothing that happened between him and Carla. Although Carla did show him her tits. He should tell that to Cody right now.

Oh yeah, smart mouth, your wife showed me her tits so I could get hard. Oh sorry, did I hurt your feelings? How about this one: showed me her cooch too. How about that buddy? Flipped down her bikini bottoms to show me her pussy. Your wife wants me to fuck her so bad.

Cody would say But you’re not even as thick as a toilet paper tube, Byron.

Arlo won his hand and everyone shouted.

Byron looked up, lost his thought but suddenly brought back to reality, everybody laughing and clapping.

“Truth or dare, truth or dare?”

Scarlet was blushing. “I don’t know . . . I don’t know what I want to do . . .”

“Pick dare,” Cody said to her, “one of can take you down to the bathroom and measure your dick.”

More laughter, but all Byron could do was crane his neck around, trying get a peek down to the deck below to see if Cheyenne was headed up the ladder yet.

How long were they going to be down there? How long did it take for this guy to get hard and pop his dick into a toilet paper tube? What the hell were they doing?

Scarlet shook her hands out saying, “Okay, okay, I guess . . .  Dare. I pick dare. But I don’t want to go swimming.”

Cody rubbed his hands together. “Guess who’s going swimming . . .”

“It’s dark out there. Please, don’t make me do that.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what you’re doing, Scarlet. Naked, and—”

Scarlet’s husband Sullivan leaned over to whisper something in Cody’s ear.

“No,” Cody said, laughing. “That’s cruel. I think it might be illegal—”

Carla burst out of her chair. “Hey,” she said, “here they are . . .”

It was Cheyenne coming up the ladder to the deck, and Byron jolted, relief hitting him. Cheyenne was blushing bright red, her eyes a little glassy looking, coming up in her sweatshirt and bikini bottoms, flip-flops slapping her naked heels.

Cody shouted, “Well, what’s the verdict?”

Cheyenne shook her head no, and Philippe was coming up the steps behind her now with a smug smirk on his face.

“Verdict, what is it,” Carla said pointing at Cheyenne.

Cheyenne waved her hands back and forth like she didn’t want to answer. She looked his way. Their eyes met and she looked away. Cheyenne looked guilty and apologetic at the same time.

Carla said, “Sullivan, drumroll again.”

Sullivan drummed his fingers on the table’s edge, going on and on and on, waiting for Cheyenne to give them their answer. Philippe came into the group, sat at the end of the bench three spots down from Byron.

Carla waved off the drumroll saying, “Cheyenne, we need an answer.”

Cheyenne rolled her eyes, plopped down in her seat. She said, “Not even close.”

The small smirk on her face punched Byron right in the heart. Like she’d been impressed with what had happened down in the bathroom with Philippe. Impressed with what she had seen.

Everyone broke out laughing.

Carla grabbed Cheyenne’s arm, trying to get her to look her way, needing clarification. “What wasn’t even close?”

“It wasn’t close,” Cheyenne said, looking a little stunned.

“Longer?”

“Yeah,” Cheyenne said. “Yes. Longer.”

“And girth?”

Sullivan started his drum roll again. Cheyenne giggled, covered her face for a second, pressing her cold fingers to her hot cheeks. She said, “What do you mean girth?”

“Could he get it inside?”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes up, “I told you: not even close . . .”

More laughter. Arlo rolled his gaze Byron’s way sympathetically as if to say Sorry, man, I know how this must feel.

No one ever pursued Scarlet on her dare, and Scarlet blended into the background with an expression showing she couldn’t believe she’d got away without doing it. But nobody wanted to make her swim underneath the boat; it was only funny because she was so afraid. It was late, and making someone swim under the boat when they were afraid to was a dumb idea, and unsafe, and in the end they all just hung out talking on the deck, their impromptu and made-up game of hearts-plus-war-plus truth or dare becoming a memory.

Except for Byron, who couldn’t stop thinking how his wife had gone down to measure another man’s penis. And it had been bigger than his.

So—even though once Cheyenne finished her drink and went to the cooler to get herself another, came around the table and curled up next to him on the bench, cuddling in the space between his arm and his ribs—everything was still not okay.

Byron cradled Cheyenne against him, kissed the top of her damp hair and she hugged him and sipped on her White Claw. The whole while all he could think was that she had been down in the bathroom—much the one like he was in with Carla—small cramped space with a guy who’s good-looking, tall, and his dick was apparently bigger than a toilet paper tube.

And why had they been down there so long?

That was still a puzzle. Could Philippe not get it up? That should make Byron feel pretty happy, but it didn’t. It only reminded him that his wife was persistent, waiting Philippe out until he got erect. And what did she do to get him erect? Did she thumb down the front of her bikini bottoms and show this guy her sweet little pussy?

It was crazy: that thought made him hard.

With his sweet wife curled up next to him, he was shifting in his spot, lifting a leg so his bulge wouldn’t show.

Philippe drifted off, and eventually Cody and Carla fell asleep together, Carla in Cody’s arms.

Cheyenne kissed Byron’s cheek, then gathered up his hand in both hers and stood, guiding him to follow. “Come on, baby, let’s go to bed,” she said.

“Good night, guys,” he said, standing—then hunching, realizing his erection hadn’t gone away yet. It was still humped out in his shorts, and he shoved the front of his sweatshirt down to cover it, scooting between the bench and the seats, Cheyenne still holding onto his wrist.