A Summer Vacation: A Wife-Swapping Novella (4 page)

4

Helena was home already when he came home from work, and she was busily cleaning in the kitchen.

“How was it?” Steve asked. He didn't really have to hear it to know: Helena was relaxed, flushed with the freshness of a day in the sun, and humming a pleasant tune.

Maybe a little
too
relaxed?

Steve tried his hardest to dismiss the thought. Helena was on vacation, and there was no reason to let his mind wander off thinking accusatory, mean, terrible...erotic...thoughts.

There
was
something different about her, though. Even from behind, even with nothing more than her back to go on. Her hair was swept up in a loose ponytail, but that wasn't unusual. She was wearing her swimsuit cover-up, a sexy number of black crochet full of tantalizing holes and knots...but he had seen that before.

“Lovely,” Helena said.

She turned around, and the “something” that was different met Steve right in the face: underneath the swimsuit cover-up she was wearing nothing.

Well, almost nothing, he realized as he looked harder. A few blue strings criss-crossed her skin and came together in a knot at the top of her neck, and he could see little patches of blue fabric beneath the cover-up. Very little patches. Mostly her saw the curve of her flesh as her breasts rose from her chest. Her abdomen was bare, and he couldn't see lower than that because of the counter, but if the top of her swimsuit was anything like the bottom, well...

It was a long way from the tankini she'd modeled for him a month ago, before she knew she'd be spending every day at “Palace Tehrani.”

He stared, and his mind went to the Tehrani's house. He wondered if the usual consortium of men were there, watching Helena in her tiny bikini. Lusting after her. Looking at the underswell of her breasts.

It made him both aroused and bitter to think about it.

She looked down at where his eyes were planted and smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Zahra made me get a new suit,” she explained, as if the explanation were of the sort that one could not argue with or ask questions about.

Which really, if anyone knew Zahra, they knew it was true. If it occurred to Zahra to “make you” get a new suit, then there wasn't much you could do about it.

“It's...” Steve said. It was hot. Fucking hot. Hotter than he had seen Helena dress in...well, ten years. But the another, competing emotion got the better of him.

Jealousy. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he heard his voice saying:

“Did you...drive home like that?” he said.
Or go somewhere else?
he thought. A shudder flashed through him as he pictured his wife slinking through the grocery store in that get-up.

He instantly regretted it, and he knew he had it coming when Helena's eyes flashed at him in anger. “And what if I did?”

She turned around and began to place dishes angrily into the dishwasher, her body rigid. Steve, instead of trying to save himself, craned his neck to get a better look at the bikini bottoms.

Dear god. Definitely a Zahra creation. At the very least, they were not a thong. They barely met that distinction, however. Only a tiny triangle of material covered the sweet hollow between her buttocks, and the tiniest portion of her rounded butt.

“No. No,” he said quickly. “You look great. You look
fantastic
. Just...it's very...you know. Risqué.”

Helena dropped a dish into the dishwasher carelessly. “Right. Risqué. Too risqué to drive in a car with tinted windows from one place another?”

Steve rolled his eyes skyward. Dear god, he wished his brain would catch up to his mouth one of these days. Just a one-second lead would do it.

“No, you're right. I'm sorry I said that. I just...it took me by surprise...” He was flailing. Desperate, he flung this at her:

“Your ass looks
great.
”  

She dropped another dish into the dishwasher without saying anything, but he felt like she did it more humorously.

Somehow, he could feel a thaw.

“You need a filter,” she said, finally.

Relief.

She turned toward him and tapped her fingers on the counter. “And my ass does look great, doesn't it?”

“Yes.”

Helena took a step toward the counter, and Steve felt like pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, because she seemed to do it
sexily,
and she seemed to be
flirting
as she leaned on the counter toward him. Her breasts pushed together to make a full, poofy ledge of fleshy pillows, and the motion pushed her skimpy bikini down, revealing the tops of her nipples. Not only that, she seemed to
know
that's what she was doing. She smiled provocatively.

Now it isn't to say that Helena
never
did this sort of thing, she just didn't do it usually at seven pm on a weekday.

“And that's not all,” she said. “Zahra made me do something else, too.”

Like any man would, Steve felt a rush of lust pour over him like a cauldron of boiling oil. The things that went through his head, naturally, were of the dirtiest kind, and Steve had a whole bank of images that included his wife and Zahra, ready-to-go since the Tehranis had told them they were moving back to the area. The first one that flashed through his mind was of Zahra's long, sharp tongue sliding expertly along the very wet inner folds of his wife's cunt.

It went on from there.

“Did -” Steve coughed. His voice was coating the back of his throat like syrup. “Did she?” He punched himself in the chest.

Helena smiled. And it was very evident, from the type of smile that she smiled, that she was smiling at the dirty thoughts she seemed to know had just gone through his head.

Unusual.

But like any man, Steve wasn't going to spend too long remarking to himself on how unusual it was or pondering what was going on.

No, Steve was marching bravely forward to whatever dirty, bad thing Zahra had made his wife do, hoping it was as dirty as he imagined.

Of course his wife hadn't been splayed on Zahra's lounge chair, getting her pussy licked while she sucked Reza's cock.

And yet...

Just before she pushed herself away from the counter, the black crochet sliding over her bare skin and the scraps of blue fabric, she seemed to...

She did, didn't she?

Wink at him?

“Let's go out in the sunroom,” she suggested suddenly. On her way out of the kitchen she snatched two wine glasses and a bottle of wine – sitting there ready – from the counter.

“Sunroom” was a tender euphemism for a strange porch the previous owners had tacked on to the house, and enclosed, but not insulated. Only two of the windows worked, so it was hot as hell in the summer and cold as hell in the winter. They had optimistically maintained a small table and a lounge chair in the space, for the two weeks a year it was actually pleasant.

Steve followed Helena to the sunroom. Her cover-up slid from one shoulder and exposed a swatch of her skin. Faint, summery smells wafted to his nose as he followed her: chlorine, coconut, and then some other, expensive-smelling shampoos and soaps.

It was a little too hot in the room this evening, but Steve didn't care. Helena set the glasses down and poured two glasses of wine. Then she stretched out on the lounge chair.

Seductively.

Steve sat down next to her in a poolside chair. There were big, waterproof cushions on the chairs, and they seemed to be from the seventies. It was always a little uncomfortable balancing on them.

“So?” he said casually. His eyes moved up and down Helena's body. Damn, she looked good.

She brought the wine glass to her lips. “So,” she said. She smiled. Her eyes were playful.

Steve felt his cock filling, his whole body pulsing with interest. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to jinx his good luck.

He watched in both fascination and shock as Helena tipped her head back and pretty much downed the whole glass of wine. Then she leaned back onto the lounge chair, her hands above her head, her whole body elongated in a feline stretch.

Steve almost choked on his wine.

“Do you want to see what Zahra made me do?”

Part of his mind raced to find a clever thing to say, but most of his mind and all of his body were paralyzed. Helena was already sliding the swimsuit cover up and over her body. For a moment Steve had a sinking sensation that Zahra might have told her to get a tattoo or something. Who knew?

The bikini looked insanely hot on her, once she was freed from the cover-up. Her new curves, layered over her wiry frame, were taut and inviting. The crochet top of the suit barely covered the round hills of her breasts, so the delicious swipe of her skin where it rose from her flawless chest was completely exposed. He drank the sight in.

But not for long, because she moved her hands down the sides of her body, dragging his eyes with them. Her fingers slid along the gentle, firm curve of her waist and then her hip, and tangled themselves in the spaghetti straps of her bikini bottoms.

She was grinning seductively as she twisted the straps in her fingers. They tied together at the crest of either hip, with frail knots that he was silently begging her to pull on his mind. She seemed to know how much he wanted that very thing, and she teased him for several moments, pressing her fingertips together on the tips of the strings and making it look as though she was going to pull on the fabric. Instead, she let the string slip from her fingers as though she were only stroking it, the way he longed for her to stroke his cock.

But finally, she tugged on the strings, and they unraveled. He watched them as they disentangled and slid along her skin, undone. But the small patch of crocheted fabric moved only slightly, slipping just a little along the smooth skin of her pubic bone.

It was at that moment that he remembered that she was showing him something, and he may have been a little ahead of what he was about to see. But maybe not. Her pretty fingers moved underneath the fabric, and he watched them, hidden from his view by only the tiniest scrap of material, touching herself, maybe even stroking her clit.

And then she gave the fabric a flick, and it fell open.

Steve sucked in his breath. Her skin, smooth and white, went on and on, forming into the soft lips of her labia, and then disappearing in a streak of bright pink into her gash. Utterly, completely bare.

He blinked.

Again he was struggling to find something to say or do. Helena, however, took the lead, and the beautiful bare pussy began to transform before his eyes: the slit of pink opened up, like a blossoming flower, as she spread her legs and held them open by the knees, her eyes large with her own excitement.

And it wasn't just her eyes that were excited, he noted: the unfolding red-pink skin of her cunt was glistening with her arousal. She let her fingers slide into her own folds, her wedding ring glinting against her pink skin.

He blinked again. Was this really happening?

“What do you think?” she said, and she said it more like a sexy growl.

The wine glass that was in Steve's hand very nearly slipped from his grasp. He caught it, but most of the wine tipped out.

Helena seemed pleased with this reaction. She smiled, and her eyes drifted down to the bulge of his cock, pressing out almost painfully against his pants.

He set the wine glass down hurriedly on a table, and fumbled to get himself out of his pants. As he did so, he was stunned to see Helena – Helena who normally wanted to read a book, wrapped in a muumuu, in bed until she fell asleep before 9:30 – sliding her finger into the wet folds of her pussy, and playing with the tight button in the center of her wet petals. Her eyes were between his legs, expectantly, the whole time.

But when his cock was freed, she reached for him, and instead of closing her hand around his member as he desperately wanted her to do, she placed her hand on his head and pushed gently. The message was clear, and it was very unlike her, but Steve did not hesitate to lower himself down to where her spread legs met in all of that raw, gushing, shaved flesh.

Her scent assaulted him halfway to her pussy: the sweet, honey-like, tangy scent of her juices. He placed his hands under her ass, and the firmness bought with her workouts greeted his palms. He pulled her to get better access to her cunt, and placed his two thumbs at either side of her, pulling apart the smooth white outer lips. For a second, though, he indulged in stroking them, and the sensation of her utterly smooth skin sent a shudder through his body.

He could feel the precum oozing from the tip of his cock. He was so hard it ached, and he felt like he was going to explode. Still, he wanted to run his tongue over the slippery-smooth inside of her pussy. He moved in, and started from the outside, teasing her. She squirmed in his hands as he ran his tongue along her outer labia: some of her juices had smeared that far, and his tongue met with the sweet tang of her excitement. He felt her breath catch in her chest and it turned him on even more.

He licked the inside of her next, where her flesh turned to silk and was soaked with her juices. He heard her gasp slightly, and she tried to moved her body to get her pulsing clit directly under his mouth. He held her firmly in place, enjoying the tease.