A Summer Vacation: A Wife-Swapping Novella

by Arnica Butler

  His eyes wandered to her ass, to the stripes that curled where her ass rose and fell.

  “It looks great,” he murmured.

  “The lipstick,” she said. “Not my ass.”

  Steve snapped back at her face.

  It looked great. The lipstick. And her ass.

  “I...is it a little bit...?” he stammered.

  “What?” she said, turning around and looking at him.

  But the question was not tinged with her usual lack of confidence. She was not holding a tissue in her hand, ready to wipe it off. She was almost challenging him.

  Steve stared at her.

  She shrugged at his silence and turned back to the mirror. “I like it,” she said. And she gave herself a smile.

  The party was just as Steve had both feared and hoped it would be: full, throbbing, boozy and fleshy, and ready to tip over any moment into wildness. It had that vibe from the moment they arrived. Skirts were short, very young girls were floating around in the pool and shrieking, and nothing was standing still.

  Helena left Steve alone almost immediately after arriving. “You're okay here, right?” she said, but she seemed distracted. Her eyes were on the pool, almost as though she were searching for something. Or perhaps it seemed more like she was at a frat party for the first time in her life. “I'm going to go look for Zahra.”

  Steve leaned on the bar and attempted to look as cool as everyone else did. There were a lot of Persian-looking people at the party, and quite a few people who looked much younger than Reza and Zahra. He scanned the guests on the side of the pool. He could see that some of Reza's business partners or law partners or whatever else he had his hands in, were here as well. But they had the relaxed look of being well into the bottle and ready to let loose.

  Steve ordered a drink from a bartender, and was shocked and pleased to find out it was an open bar. Jesus. The money on these two.

  Then he saw them. His wife and Zahra, standing together, laughing near the edge of the pool.

  It surprised him, because it was actually his striped wife's figure that pulled his eye to where they were standing. from the distance, her figure was silhouetted and looked flawless. Like a stretched hourglass. Even standing next to the very sexy Zahra, she looked incredible.

  But she also wasn't alone. Steve watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as Helena put an arm on a man's bicep, tipped her head back and laughed, and then tipped a shot glass of clear liquid into her throat.

  As if she did that all time.

  Steve had a thought, and it burned as much as it excited him: perhaps this was his real wife. The real Helena. Maybe she had always been like this, always flirting, always doing naughty things with Zahra. Maybe she had always been misbehaving, and hiding it from him. Maybe what he was seeing here was not a conversion of his wife, but a dropping of the facade.

  Steve swallowed. Helena was standing close to the man, and then she moved even closer, her breasts brushing against his body as she leaned in and told him something in his ear.

  Steve felt his cock pulse to life. It was too good to be true: this was his fantasy coming to life.

  He should be happy.

  But he felt a current of pain running through him at the same time. She was actually doing this. He blinked. Someone had put on some music, and the guests were starting to dance. Including Helena. The man she had been flirting with slid his arm around her waist, and they began to move to the music. It was a fast, upbeat tune, with some kind of Eastern-sounding tones to it, so they weren't dancing dirtily.

  They were just very, very close.

  The stripes of Helena's dress accentuated the sexiness of her swaying hips, her bouncing breasts, and her grinding ass.

  Was he actually seeing this?

  And the worst part, or maybe the best part – it was hard to tell – was that Helena wasn't even looking around for her husband. She was just grinding against the crotch of another man, right there in front of everyone, and she wasn't even looking around for him.

  The man had his hand across her stomach now. She had turned to shake her ass against his hips. The back of her dress dipped low and showed off her bare skin, and that man's breath was probably against her spine right now. His eyes were dipping right into the fabric, looking through it to imagine what her ass looked like underneath the dress. She had one hand up and he was holding it, and her ass was bumping into him occasionally. He had to have a hard-on, Steve thought. She had to feel it, against her ass when she rubbed against him.

  Did she like it? Was she doing it on purpose?

  Steve tore his eyes away from his wife, and to the other guests at the party. Everyone was dancing. Everyone was dancing like that.

  It was just for fun, he told himself. Everyone was just having fun. Flirting. Engaging in a little summery fun. That was all.

  He caught sight of Reza, though. Speaking in low tones to a man by the bar cabana.

  With his eyes, inarguably, on Helena as she danced.

  That same, intense, possessive expression on his face.

  Steve felt like he was getting punched in the stomach while someone stroked his cock. The feelings were clawing at each other and tearing him apart.

  He moved to an empty table that had been pushed into a darkened corner by a raucous group. Around him, the music began to get louder, and so did the people, as they became drunker.

  He watched the scene unfold. Soon enough, someone pushed a scantily-clad blonde into the pool, and then more people went tumbling in after her. People began to peel off their clothes, whether they were headed into the pool or not. The dancing got closer, dirtier.

  But mostly Steve was watching his wife. In all honesty, he was sort of enjoying being tucked away in at the shadowy table, forgotten about and free to be a voyeur. Free to watch as the pretty girls began to strip off their clothes. Free to watch his wife, who seemed to have forgotten him, as she danced with one man after another. His cock was hard and oozing with precum already by the time a guy, who seemed very young, began dancing with Helena in nothing more than his wet swim trunks.

  Helena was still clothed, but in that skin-tight dress there was nothing left to the imagination. And she was pressing herself flirtatiously against his bare chest, her head back, her cherry-red lips open as she laughed at whatever he was saying.

  Quite a few men had positioned themselves on a low wall next to where everyone was dancing, and they all had their eyes on Helena. After a while, it was only Helena and one other couple dancing in the patch of grass. Steve watched as his wife swayed her hips and bucked her ass and put on a show that would have made a stripper proud.

  Surely she knew everyone was watching her.

  He knew he should probably do something else besides sit there, watching her, and watching the men who were watching her. He knew he should do something besides idly ponder whether or not his wife, all these years, had only been submerging her true self, and was now just being who she really was.

  And why he liked that so much.

  But he was paralyzed. His cock was solid and aching, and if he was honest, he was enjoying the scene more than he was hating it. He had a curiosity – a painful, almost sickening one – to see where this was going to go.

  At some point though, after dancing quite wildly and sexily, Helena saw Steve and walked – a bit unsteadily – toward him. She pushed her sweaty hair from her face. “What are you doing over here all on your lonesome?” she slurred.

  Steve shrugged.

  “Well,” she said. “I'm going in.” Then she spun around and walked toward the pool.

  It took a few moments for the words to sink in. Steve gave an uneasy glance at the pool, where quite a few girls were getting naked, and at his wife's low-dipping dress, and the lack of lines that might be underwear.

  He was suddenly compelled to act: this was all fine and good when she was dancing clothed, but naked in the pool was too far.

  He stood up and trotted behind her. As he did, he rea
lized he was a little more buzzed than he had thought. Helena was standing by the edge of the pool, and Steve saw one of the guys grin as he looked up and probably caught a glimpse of what was – or wasn't – under her dress.

  Steve grasped Helena's elbow. “You're not -”

  She looked at him strangely, then rolled her eyes. “Oh god, of course not. I have a bikini in the cabana,” she said, and started to wrench her elbow away from him.

  Steve wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Even as Helena had started to say “of course not,” he had been imagining her peeling her dress from her body, right then and there. No underwear on, just stunningly naked. Still in her heels. Colored lights splayed across her breasts.

  Helena slinked away to the cabana, and Steve stood there, looking and feeling a bit like an idiot, as the many guests around him began tossing their clothes about and jumping into the pool.

  He sensed someone standing next to him, and he turned to see Zahra, topless, holding a drink and looking out at the pool with amusement. Without taking her eyes off the many laughing, splashing girls, she held her drink close to her chest and said:

  “You aren't getting in, I take it.”

  She turned to him as he shook his head. She didn't have shoes on, so she was quite a bit shorter than usual. Steve's eyes dropped, against his will, to where she was rolling her ice-cold drink across her bare breasts as though she needed to cool down. Her nipples pebbled when the cool glass rolled over them, and the condensation kissed her skin and beaded on her flesh. A single drop of ice-cold water gathered on her left breast and slid down her skin, along her side, and into the dark fabric of her tiny thong.

  “You always were a bit of a downer,” she said, playfully. She held out her drink, and he took it from her without thinking about it – Zahra had that sort of commanding effect on people. She took three sexy steps towards the pool, before she stretched her magnificent arms over her head, and dove gracefully into the water, on the side of the group of splashing guests.

  Breasts bounced everywhere, and the ladies squealed and splashed water at each other.

  Steve looked around helplessly.

  He then saw what he had not seen before: only half the party was really this wild. Plenty of women were still clothed and sitting in deck chairs, caught up in conversations with men or a group of people, like an ordinary party. The panic that had been building up inside of him, that the party was disintegrating into an orgy, released. He also felt a pang of disappointment, but really it was more relief. Reza, who was still standing by the bar, lifted a drink toward him in salutation, and Steve raised his empty glass.

  Reza's eyes suddenly flicked away from Steve. Behind him. And Steve knew what he was looking at before he turned around.

  Helena was emerging from the cabana just then. She had put on yet another new swimsuit. This one was red, and almost couldn't be called a suit at all. Two strips of red fabric sliced down her front side in a v-shape, just covering her breasts as they cut down to her pelvis and only – only just barely – covered her snatch. In fact, of she hadn't been totally shaved, she couldn't have worn the suit. Even a landing strip would have been peeking out of the top of the “v”.

  Steve's jaw dropped, and he had the sense around him that Helena had sucked all the air out of every man's lungs. The shape of her breasts was totally visible, the neat curve of her abdomen, and the firm roundness of her ass was undoubtedly hanging out the same way from behind.

  Steve moved toward her, resisting the urge to pick up a towel from a nearby chair and cover her up.

  His mouth emitted a few syllables, wanting to tell her to cover up, wanting to tell her how hot she looked, wanting to ask if it was really her suit...but instead he just kind of grunted.

  She gave him a twirl. The back of the suit was not much better, but at least a swatch of fabric held the v-shape in place across her back, and a slightly thicker v covered – again, only just – the crack of her ass and a tiny bit of the round hump of flesh around it.

  “You like?” she asked, winking.

  “Hey Helena,” Steve heard Reza call. “Nice suit.”

  Someone else whistled.

  “You look stunning, darling,” Zahra said, from the pool below them. Her black hair was slicked back like an otter, and she was floating on her back, giving Steve a nice view of her breasts under the shimmering water.

  Just like that, Steve was forgotten. Helena sat down on the edge of the pool, and kicked her feet playfully in the water. Then she glided out to where Zahra was, and their wet bodies seemed to merge in the water, sending a ripple of pleasure through Steve.

  He wiped his eyes, and backed away slowly, toward another shadowy chair, content to watch his wife as she glided through the pool, glistening, touching other women. And to watch Reza's eyes on her, enjoying her scanty red swimsuit, and all the flesh it revealed.

  And there he sat. The party droned on around him and he let his fantasy take over his thoughts again and again, as he watched his wife in the pool. It seemed to him as though all male eyes were on her, and though he knew he was deliberately seeking out the expressions that made him the most jealous, and spinning up the intensity of his thought for his own perverse pleasure – it was also true. His wife was a gorgeous blonde, bouncing in a pool full of gorgeous women, and most men were choosing to look at her.

  Think about her.

  And imagine her suit falling right off.

  7

  “It's cool, this door locks.”

  Helena was laughing, and it was evident she was pretty drunk. The party-goers had broken off into couples after about an hour, and Steve had watched his wife with both hope and fear as she emerged from the pool with another couple. By then, he was wild with lust and imagining extremely filthy things. But Helena, to his equal relief and disappointment, had sauntered across to him and leaned over. Her skin had been cool and small rivers of water snaked over her skin and between her dangling breasts. “I know where we can sneak away,” she had whispered.

  And she had led him to one of the cabanas near the pool.

  Steve's cock was so hard he could barely walk. He reached behind him and fumbled with the lock, but he was still trying to move into the room and grasp at every part of his wife as he did it. He was also a little drunk, and he made a mess of the whole thing, tripped, and fell into the darkness.

  Luckily he had a soft landing on some kind of couch or cot or bed.

  Helena laughed, and then she was next to him. Her hands were seeking out his body, getting under his shirt, fumbling with his belt. Her skin was still wet, and she was a little cold. He felt the slap of her wet hair against his skin, and the cool fabric of her suit.

  As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he saw that there was a window above them letting in a little light, and then the nearly-naked form of his wife's body became better visible. She looked silver in the dim light, and her skin glistened. Her wet hair snaked around her neck and shoulders, and her whole body looked fresh and new. He fumbled to get his clothes off.

  “Shhhh!” Helena hissed suddenly, and she rose up on her knees to peer out of the propped window.

  Steve pulled his shirt over his head and listened.

  At first he heard nothing, but then at the same time that he saw Helena cover her mouth and drop down to rest her ass on her heels, he heard the unmistakeable sound of a couple, murmuring. Skin slapping together, moans. The sounds of people having sex.

  Helena pointed toward the wall, and her eyes were excited, but she was too...mortified by something to look. Steve rose up cautiously, and Helena slapped her hand on his forearm but not in any real attempt to stop him.

  From the window there was a view of the back of another cabana and then a slice of the pine trees that shaded the path and the area where the hot tub was. And he could see the hot tub itself.

  And the people in it.

  There was not much mistaking the slender, cinnamon-tan colored body of Zahra, or her inky black hair, even t
hough she had her back to the window and so all that he could see was the heart shape of her ass where it flared away from her narrow waist.

  This was the first thing he took in, and then the surrounding picture came into focus, piece by piece.

  It was so lewd, so unexpected and yet expected, that his mind had a hard time delivering the message to his body. For a moment he stopped breathing.

  Zahra was on her knees, and her head was moving back and forth, without shaking her wet hair, which stuck to her back. Her skin was wet and beads of water clung to it like sweat. They glistened in the low light that hung over the hot tub. Her face was bobbing over the center of a man, and when she pulled back, Steve could see his flopping balls, slapping against his own thighs with the momentum of Zahra's sucking.

  But the torso that rose over her head was pale, and covered in light-brown hair, and the man who stared down at her with his mouth open was not her husband.

  But there was more. Zahra's slender arm was outstretched, to her right, and her fingers were clasped around a big, huge, cock.

  And this man was Reza. Tan, dripping wet, shiny and completely naked. Steve stared at his cock, and Zahra's fingers moving up and down his shaft. It was a dark, fat piece of meat, uncircumcised and hard enough to push the swollen glans and foreskin tight against the veined surface of his shaft.

  Steve stared.

  Helena tugged on his arm, but he continued to watch. She rose up next to him on her knees, and her eyes grew wide as she took in the scene.

  It was only then that Steve looked over at her. He wondered what she watching. She seemed to have her eyes on Reza's cock as well.

  And then he indulged in a thought, that she liked the look of it. That she was imagining holding it in her own hand.

  He turned back to the scene. Zahra fell onto all fours and turned toward Reza. They now had an excellent profile view of his cock as it sank into her mouth and stretched her lips wide. Helena's eyes widened as the whole, huge thing disappeared into her mouth. They could both see that the bulge of his cock was pressing against her throat, sliding up and down her neck.