Spouse Swap

Chapter 2

Instant terror shocked Trish's system as the turbulence around the steps snatched and started to suck her upward. For a hairy second she expected to be splattered against the tail, but the maddening moment passed, and she exhaled in relief and she felt herself dropping downward.

Doing a free-fall at night didn't bug her, but freezing her ass off while dropping at the approximate speed of two hundred miles an hour was something else. The chill factor was a bitch. She felt numb all over. Blackness threatened. She shook her head and muttered. "Easy does it, Trish baby. Don't blank out now. You won't have to put up with this stinking cold very much longer. This jump for the money is almost over." She stopped talking to herself and pulled the D-ring. The chute opened beautifully, and a relaxed laugh ripped past her lips as she watched the earth come rushing up to meet her.

She landed a few yards off target and missed getting her body smashed against a giant boulder by inches. She struggled free of the chute, stared at the king-sized boulder and thought, Damn! A few more inches, and my partners wouldn't have found enough of me to fill a flea's vagina.

A sudden frown wrinkled her brow. Hank and Gabe. Where the hell were they? Her eyes started prowling among the trees and shadows that. I crowded this isolated valley Hank had chosen as their landing target. She looked, listened. Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled at the moonless night, while off to her immediate left she could hear Axehandle Creek slapping at the rocks in its bed, but, outside of this, there was nothing to see or hear.

She started calling. "Hank? Gabe?" Nobody answered.

She took a deep breath that shook her breasts and called again, louder this time. Her voice echoed off into the darkness. A few seconds passed, then the silence erupted; bushes rattled at her back, and she whirled to find Gabe Penner lumbering toward her, his arms loaded with spent parachute. She heaved a sigh of relief and said, "Man, am I ever glad to see that ugly face of I yours! Where's Hank?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. The last time I saw him he was fighting a losing battle to stay on target. I think the weight of the money sack had a lot to do with pushing him off course."

"How far off?"

Gabe shrugged. "Hard to tell."

Concern mirrored on her face. "I hope he landed in one piece."

Gabe grinned. "Stop worrying, puss. Hank is an ex-paratrooper who knows every trick in the book when it comes to avoiding getting hurt. Hell, he's probably on his way, or already at the cabin by now."

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"From here? About ten minutes."

Trish gathered up her parachute. "Let's roll."

They waded across the icy creek and moved side by side across the valley. A sickle moon slid out from behind a cloud when they reached a stand of cedars, and Trish saw the ancient log cabin many seconds before Gabe pointed and said, "There it is, puss."

"Yeah," Trish said pointedly, "all nice and dark."

"Relax, puss," Gabe grumbled as he led the way inside the musty building, dropped his bundle and collapsed parachute on the floor, and scratched a kitchen match into flame. "Hank won't get lost with our money."

Trish stood quietly in the doorway until Gabe lit the kerosene lamp they had packed in, along with other supplies. Then she slipped out of her spare chute pack, and a wry smiled curved her lips as she said, "I'm still too damned cold from the free-fall to sweat anything, including Hank Lockridge."

Gabe blew out the match and grinned lewdly. "Climb out of those overalls, and I'll see what I can do to warm you up."

Trish closed the narrow gap that lay between them. She reached for his crotch and found him soft. Amusement glinted in her green eyes. "What are you going to use for a heater… your tongue?"

Gabe bared his teeth in a mirthless grin. "Get rid of that monkey suit and I'll show you."

"How about a drink first?"

"Screw the drink," Gabe said roughly, his slightly sadistic nature coming to the fore. "I want a piece of your pussy, and I want it now. Skin down, babe."

Trish knew better than to turn him down. Gabe was an unpredictable bastard. One minute he would be gentle, and the next he would blow his cool and go the dump route with the girl on hand. Trish wasn't in the mood for a dumping. Not tonight. No, better to get fucked than to get hurt.

Trish stepped back and lowered her shapely haunches into a chair that had seen better days. She unlaced and removed her jump boots. Then she stood up and did the same thing to her insulated coveralls while Gabe watched her in silence. A minute later she stood facing him, clad only in her bra and panties. She studied the sometimes cruel man and suddenly found herself wishing for an interruption in the form of Hank Lockridge's arrival, but it didn't happen.

The silence lingered on as Gabe did a fast strip of his own. Trish watched him knife forward to get rid of his coveralls. When he straightened, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his huge erection.

"Damn," she said with a forced laugh, "it certainly doesn't take you very long to come up with a hard-on, does it?"

Gabe reached for her. "You know me, puss… half alley cat and all satyr."

Trish walked into his open arms. Relief flooded her system. Gabe was gentle again. Hot to trot, but gentle. There would be no dumping tonight. His turgid cock slipped between her thighs as she insinuated the length of her body against his. She shivered, then stepped back and said breathlessly, "If we're going to fuck, I'd better lower my panties so you can get at my pussy."

"Do it."

Trish obeyed. Her fingers crooked and hooked into the elastic waistband of her bikini panties. She became motionless for a moment. Then, slowly, she folded forward like a closing knife and followed the panties down to where she could step out of them. She toed the wispy scrap of material aside and straightened. Both hands moved to the bra snaps between her shoulder blades, and this movement thrust her full and pointed breasts into greater prominence. Gabe stared, reached and saved her the effort of unclasping the half-bra; he hooked his fingers into the front of the cloth hammocks and gave a fierce yank that brought her breasts trembling into nakedness.

Cool air rushed against her slumbering nipples and awakened them. Trish shivered again, then came alive as the beginning of passion stirred her loins. She reached down and gripped his hard prick with both hands, whispering harshly, "Do your thing, Gabe. Hit the deck and feed a batch of cream to my hungry kitty."

They melted to the floor in unison. Trish rolled over on her back and smiled at Gabe over the trembling peaks of her breasts, then purred, "Ready?"

"Yeah. Spread those sexy legs of yours so I can show you how ready I am."

Trish's legs parted to expose the pouting lips of her pussy. She was beginning to feel wet and warm with passion. Cock. She wanted his cock. And how she wanted it.

Gabe licked at the sweat that beaded his upper lip and crawled between her scissored legs. He took himself in hand and nuzzled the tip of his throbbing tool against her pubic mattress. A moan ripped past Trish's slightly parted lips as his cock-head struck her jutting clitoral spire and sent a shock tremor of delight coursing through her entire nervous system.

"Ah," she sighed, "rock my boat like that one more time and I'll come all over the floor."

Gabe chuckled and shifted his penis to the entrance of her cavern. The knob parted her pussy-lips and brought a mild grunt out of her. He looked down into her eyes and asked, "Am I hurting you?" His voice told her that he didn't really give a damn.

Trish rolled her head from side to side. "Stop talking and start fucking, you donkey-dicked bastard; this goddamn floor is colder than that stewardess you muscled into sucking you off."

Gabe snorted. Then he gripped her unmoving hips and hunched all the way home. Trish gritted her teeth against the sudden pain that always came when this cruel bastard rammed the meat to her vagina with one brutal thrust, but a heartbeat later the agony faded, and her teeth unclenched as the balm of pleasure began to soothe her dripping cunt hole. She jerked her hips at the cock that filled her copper-colored snatch and rasped, "Stop soaking this big prod of yours in my well and start massaging my tush, lover. Make it act like a worm. Fuck me, fuck me!"

'Gabe shifted his hands and palmed her buttocks. He went to work. His cock sawed in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Trish met him thrust for thrust, moving her hips in the same grinding manner she had used on stage while earning her bread and beans as a nightclub stripper.

"That's the ticket," Gabe croaked. "Fuck like the mink you really are. Go, puss go!"

Trish went. Her arms coiled around his neck, her legs circled his writhing buttocks, and they were entwined like a pair of wrestlers in a death struggle. Her open mouth searched for his, found it. His tongue darted inside; she started sucking on it. Her mouth worked in rhythm to her rotating hips for an eternity of seconds. Then she twisted her head to one side and panted, "I'm almost ready to cream, lover. A few more lunges with that lovely dong of yours should do the trick! Take me all the way! Yes, yes, like that! Ah, sweet mother of all whores, the walls of my pussy are on fire! Cool me, Gabe, cool me! Buck me into a cum!"

Gabe bucked.

Violently.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Trish tightened her legs around his haunches and shrilled, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"You aren't by yourself," Gabe muttered as he buried his whang deep into her vagina and held it there. "Soami!"

They climaxed together.

Noisily.

Until they shuddered to a standstill.

Trish's arms and legs relaxed, dropped to the floor. Her eyes stopped floating in their sockets, but distance continued to edge her voice as she said, "Thanks, stud, I needed that."

Gabe crawled out from between her legs and stood up. He palmed the sweat from his face and grinned at her. "Anytime, puss."

"How about right now?"

He shook his head. "I'm good, but not that good. I could use a bit of rest after that wild ride. I could also use a drink, so how about getting off your duff and fixing us one?"

Trish scrambled to her feet. She felt his semen running out of her pussy and laughed. She genuflected to pick up her wadded panties and wiped between her legs. Then she glided over to the boxes stacked in a corner of the room and rummaged through them. She located a bottle of premixed vodka and orange, carried it over to the plank table.

Gabe patted her on the ass and said, "We'll need glasses, babe."

She flicked a slender finger against his drooping dong and walked back to the cardboard boxes. She bent over and started rummaging again, and she was still rummaging when Gabe came up behind her with a fresh erection, grabbed her hips and said, "Hang tough while I shove this dick of mine up your ass, puss."

Trish paled, straightened, whirled and said angrily, "Not a chance, stud. I took you there once, and I've regretted it ever since. Christ, I ached for over a week. Up the ass? You, my sadistic friend, can go straight to hell."

Gabe laughed suddenly, "Pull in your claws, puss. I was only joking about the ream job." He took the carton of paper cups from her slightly trembling hands. "I'll settle for a suck job later. Right now I need a drink."

Trish's anger subsided. A smile wobbled on her lips. "You aren't by your lonesome, chum. Between your threat to shove that big dick of yours up my back hole and Hank being overdue, I've developed a sudden case of jangled nerves."

Gabe opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat as a weird sound pierced the silence that crouched outside. They exchanged puzzled glances.