Summer Swap 5-10

Arlo riffled the cards again, looking at her from under his brows with a small measure of malevolence. He said, “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

Lily sighed, then lamented theatrically, “A-gain,”

“It keeps happening to us.”

Still lamenting, Lily said, “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

“Why do you think that is?”

She shrugged one delicate shoulder and bit her lower lip. He told her to come and sit on his lap, patting his thighs. Lily smiled, looked around to make sure Cody and Cheyenne weren’t returning, got out of her chair, and came around to his side of the table. He swiveled his chair to allow ample access to his lap. She set herself down, hunching her shoulders forward and looking at him to see what he would ask of her next. His hand went to the middle of her back and rubbed up and down, getting her to smile.

He said, “Is your diaper dry?”

She nodded, pleased with herself that she could provide a happy answer. But now his expression shrank to one of duty and responsibility, and Lily’s smile faltered.

He said, “Did everything go okay?”

Unsure, stalling for time, she said, “Okay where?”

“You know what I’m asking, Lily.”

Lily said, “I did what you asked me.”

“And did it go okay?”

Her lips pooched, and she looked down, like she struggled with something. “I don’t... I don’t know what you mean by okay. I did what you asked.”

He asked her, “Were they good to you?”

She nodded convincingly, eyes wide.

“Did you help Cheyenne?”

She nodded again. Then took a breath like she would say something else, but chickened out, lips coming together again.

“What is it?”

“I did. I helped her.”

“But...?”

“Uh, um, I, uh... I touched Byron’s penis.”

He grumbled. “You what?”

She whispered, “I touched his penis.”

“Lily, you were supposed to hold the shave cream, or aim a light or something. How on earth did this happen?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

Arlo scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. “I’m shocked.”

She looked at him, eyes filled with worry, lips almost blubbering. “Am I... Am I in trouble?”

“I think you should go to your room.”

Lily whined, “But I did what you told me.”

He warned her. “Lily...”

She made a small grunt of rebellion, a teen amazed at how unfair the world was. “I did what you told me,” she whispered again in a futile, petulant disclaimer.

He said no more, just fixed his wife with a stern gaze. Lily slumped, slid off his lap and stood facing away from him. She wiggled her butt, then with one hand adjust her crinkly diaper. She turned her head over a shoulder, saying to him, “Are you coming to my room with me?” The peaked corner of a smile showed.

* * *

With his shorts and a T-shirt on, Sully met Cody and Scarlet in the hall, returning to his room. They had Cheyenne with them, Cheyenne looking frazzled but putting on a brave face when she saw him in the brighter light of the hall, saying, “Hi, Sully,” smiling ear to ear. Her eyes were like cartoon eyes, like Marge Simpson or something.

“Hey, Chey,” he said, putting up a hand in greeting.

Chey walked supported between Cody and Scarlet, a thin blanket cowled around her shoulders, still wearing what she wore to dinner underneath.

Sully walked backward, opened the door to his suite and shoved it wide. Scarlet gave him a funny but comforting look as she passed into the room. Cody stayed in the hall.

“You’re not coming in?”

Cody put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Seems like a lot of people.”

“What’s going on with Chey?”

“Scar said panic attack. Chey seemed fine when we were setting this thing up tonight with Carla and Byron—most of it was Chey’s idea—but now...”

“Now she’s not so sure?”

Cody shook his head. “No, I think she’s okay with it, but she can’t stop thinking about it and, I don’t know, worrying or something.”

“Panic attack,” Sully said, nodding.

“Bingo,” Cody said, scratching an eyebrow. “You want to go watch a movie or something?”

Sully looked back into the dark of his room and could see Scarlet helping Chey into their bed. He had unfinished business with his wife, but that wasn’t looking good now. He and Cody could go watch a movie or see if there was a game on somewhere. But still, he said, “Nah, I better get in with Scar. If she kicks me out, I’ll come find you. You’re all on your own?”

“Arlo and Lily probably packed it in, yeah. I’ll find something to do.”

They parted ways and Sully went back into the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Chey and Scarlet lay in the middle of the bed, but he heard Scarlet say to Chey, “Scoot over, make room for Sully, baby.” And Chey did. It made him feel welcome.

But now Chey would be in the middle, lying between him and Scarlet. And that was a problem. Or at least could be. He’d had to find the baggiest T-shirt he’d packed because his throbbing erection would not go away even though the circumstances around here had grown serious.

He got into bed and lay on his side, drawing his knees up, his cock poking himself in the belly trapped in the fly of his shorts. Chey lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling, eyes open and blinking, hands laced on her tummy, one thumb drumming on her stomach at a hundred miles an hour.

He asked, “How you doing, Chey?”

“Good-good-good,” she said, then licked the tight ring of her lips. “I’m so sorry, Sully, I-I didn’t want to disturb you guys, I didn’t want to—”

“It’s fine, Chey,” he soothed her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He wanted to pat her arm, maybe rub an elbow, but it felt a little weird since he was hard as a rock and ready for action—still in the throes of pre-orgasm with Scarlet from about five minutes ago. Scarlet stared at him from the other side of Chey, a happy sort of warm look in her eyes. She mouthed, “Thank you.”

He shrugged a shoulder. What else would he do but this?

Cheyenne twiddled both her thumbs now, jaw muscles flexing. Scarlet stroked Chey’s arm, making soft shushing noises. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re all here for you.”

Chey spoke to the ceiling. “She-she-she made a, made a suit, suit for him.

He said, “Who?”

“C-Carla.”

“No, a suit for who?”

Chey’s head rotated on the pillow like that little girl from the Exorcist, her eyes in disbelief like she couldn’t believe he was so unseeing. She said, “You kn-know what that means, Sully? You know what that means?”

* * *

Carla emitted a high feminine moan every time he entered her, a breathy sort of sound. His rhythm was slow and passionate, and their rocking bodies rustled the bedsheets. Her legs didn’t clamp him too hard. She didn’t demand more than he wanted or was prepared to give. The experience was magical. It was close and intimate. It was like they were sharing their first time together.

Carla’s head rolled on the pillow, still with her eyes closed like this first time having sex was overwhelming her. She panted things like, “It feels so good,” or, “I can’t believe it.” The urge to orgasm was gone. It was replaced with the urge to keep this going all night. Her soft breasts squashed on his chest, making him feel masculine, in turn making him feel in control. He took Carla’s hands and guided them over her head, rolling his hips into her, stirring his rod inside her, watching her face as the new movement produced a different thrill. Then he kissed her. Carla’s mouth moved to meet his before he got close. They made out and made love. Her nails dragged his back. They got hot. They got sweaty.

She cupped his cheeks one time and looked into his eyes and said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” It made him so hard. It made him so happy. It was more than playacting. At least he wanted so much to believe it. Yeah, they weren’t experiencing their first time in some dorm room, but they were sharing something. Something pretty amazing. This wasn’t a ruse, this wasn’t a manipulation. A Carla-style manipulation. Carla really wanted this. This was her desire. She’d brought an outfit for him. A private school uniform, but it might as well have been an all-leather gimp suit. She’d brought it for the purpose of having sex with him. She wanted him. And being desired was the biggest Mt. Kilimanjaro turn-on.

Soon Carla’s features twisted with confusion, looking like she was troubled. Like something was wrong. But she didn’t stop, she did the opposite. She quickened her pace, encouraging him to go faster without saying anything. Her panting breaths and her squeaky feminine sounds came faster. Her head rolled around like she was seeing pale transparent spirits flitting above his head. Then the oh my gods began. Gasping, panting, breaths chugging in soft whisks. He met her pace, gave her the syncopation she craved. Their hips bashed together. Her perfect breasts bounced and jostled. Their flesh slapped.

Carla cried out, “What’s happening?”

“We’re going to come together,” he growled.

Her eyes stared through him, lips pouted. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna come again?”

“Come with me,” he said. “Look in my eyes.”

Carla’s gaze met his, and she grabbed both of his ass cheeks, her nails sinking in for good purchase. They watched each other, fucking, humping, rolling, moiling. Sometimes the pleasure and the connection were too much, and his eyes would narrow to blurry slits.

Their breaths rose and fell in unison; their orgasms swelled in synchronicity. Carla’s mouth fell open, and she began to mewl and cry and wail. He grunted and growled, and just when he thought he should pull out, Carla’s nails sunk deeper into his rump, and her legs locked him in place. “Oh not yet, oh not yet, oh don’t pull out yet, oh, oh, mm, you feel so, so good.”

He allowed Carla a few more thrusts, her tight pussy like a liquid grip on his cock, squeezing and milking and begging for his seed.

His cock twitched at the thought of Carla wanting his come inside her, and even though he’d said he’d pull out, he exploded inside her, roaring and gasping as his brain went off like a concussion grenade inside a submarine. He collapsed on her while she wailed out in her own erupting orgasm, crying out at full explosive volume the pleasure she also felt. He filled her pussy up with what felt like another might load, another impressive deluge of pearly masculinity. Their connection went slick like oil and the thrill blotted his consciousness in white.

It left them both panting, both heaving for breath after the marathon of sexual pleasure.

Carla’s hand swept over his back. Her other hand brushed tangled wet hair from her eyes. He lifted off her, their faces a foot apart, both of them smiling. She put a hand down to their slick union and that happy expression changed.

With horror, she said, “You didn’t come inside me, did you?”