Spouse Swap

Chapter 6

Bruce Cord's face crumpled in a pleased smile as he watched Trish emerge from the bathroom clad only in spikes, nylons and a black garter belt that contrasted sharply but enticingly with her flawless white skin. He shook his head in a gesture of awe and remarked, "Nearly two months of fucking it up with you, and I still can't seem to get enough of your hot little body. A minx, that's what you are." He paused to feast his hungry eyes on her lush curves, then growled, "Come here."

Trish stopped in the middle of the elaborate bedroom. She stood with her shapely legs slightly scissored and treated him to a generous glimpse of her copper-colored cunt mound. She dug her hands into the flesh of her slender hips and moistened her ripe red lips with the tip of her tongue. Amusement danced in her eyes as she shook her magnificent breasts at him and said, "Why should I come to you? It would be a wasted walk, and you know it. You talk a good game, but that's about all. Look at what happened last night." She made a derisive sound. "Some cowboy! One ride and you hung up your saddle." "One ride was enough," Bruce said on the heel of a healthy chuckle. "I fucked you for over twenty minutes. Every time I'd get ready to shoot my load, you'd stop wriggling that pretty tail of yours to keep me from doing my thing."

"You lie like a rug, clodhopper," Trish retorted as her glance dropped to the prominent bulge in the crotch of Bruce's sand-colored pants. "What happened was your own damn fault." A sharp intake of breath rocked her breasts. "Do you know why it took you so long to get your jollies?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me. Go ahead; let it all hang out."

"You asked for it," Trish purred, her eyes never leaving his cloth-covered erection. "I'm telling it like it is. It's a case of your eyes being bigger than your libido. In short, I think you're over the hill."

Bruce reacted instantly to her teasing aspersion against his virility.

"Over the hill am I?" he growled as he sprang forward and trapped her in his arms. "Let me bury this stiff bone of mine in that tight little twat of yours, and then tell me I'm over the hill, you sexy little bitch. Only try to do it with a straight face huh?"

Trish felt his stiff cockshaft make contact with her exposed quim, and an unexpected shiver of excitement charged through her system. Laughter rippled past her slightly parted lips as he scooped her up in his powerful arms and started toward the king-sized bed, but a moment later she sobered and hissed, "No, you maniac. Not now. There isn't time for a long-winded game of hide the baloney."

Bruce lowered her writhing flesh to the huge bed and reached for his belt buckle, then said with mock truculence, "I don't want to hear it, lady. Mrs. Singing Rabbit won't be back from visiting her sister on the reservation until some time this evening. As for that pussy-whipped joker I hired so I could spend more time with you, Gabe will probably try to dick every damn one of Stella Roller's house girls before he decides to come back to this ranch and make like a foreman." He grinned lewdly, smacked his lips. "So save your breath for panting, Trish. There's time. When it comes to going the passion route with you, there's always time."

That's what you think, Trish told herself as she watched Bruce's pants drop down around his ankles, and his impressive cock sprang into view. There's time, all right, but not much of it left for you. One break, and you'll be going to Stella Roller's for your pussy. Any day now Gabe will find that bag of money Hank Lockridge salted away, and when it happens, you can lick the egg from your face while we cut out for the bright lights.

"Lecherous beast," Trish shrilled, getting back to her game of pretend as Bruce finished undressing and stretched out beside her. "I knew you'd end up doing this to me."

"Correction," Bruce retorted as he raked the heel of his right hand over her jutting pink clit and made her shudder. "When you walked out of the bathroom half-undressed, you were hoping I'd end up seducing your pretty ass."

Hoping had nothing to do with it, you dumb hayseed, Trish's mind retorted. I knew what I was doing. When it comes to keeping your ass out of the fields, especially the section you call Lonesome Valley, I always know what I'm doing. With you, that's easy; you're so goddamned predictable it makes me want to puke.

And aloud she said, "You're pretty smart for a country boy." She coiled her warm arms around Bruce's neck and drew his passion-flushed face down to her naked, heaving breasts. "I guess that's why I love you so madly."

Bruce licked her coral-pink nipples into full blossom, then raised his head and smirked at her. "I know you admire my brain power, but why else do you love me?"

My aching ass, Trish thought with an inward groan. Here we go again! Every damn time we fuck this damn idiot makes like a bad echo of himself with that why-else-do-you-love-me routine of his. Ah, well, I won't have to listen to or put up with his shit very much longer. Gabe will find that bag of money any day now, and then it will be- Bruce cut into her thoughts by asking again, "Why else do you love me, wanton? "He sounded like a little boy in need of a titty to suck on. Trish stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll never tell."

Bruce smiled wickedly. "No? We'll see about that, little bitch. You've got five seconds to change your mind and talk."

She moistened her lips. "What happens if I let the clock run out?"

"I'll take this cock of mine to Stella Roller's house of ill repute for softening, that's what will happen." His glance moved to the dresser clock, then back to her. "Your time's almost up. Why else do you love me?"

Shadows of secret amusement danced in Trish's eyes as she dropped one arm from around Bruce's neck and groped for his turgid organ. She knew how to play this silly game of his; she was the one who had taught it to him. She gripped his rock-hard prick at its base and murmured, "Here's the biggest reason of them all, lover, and I do mean big. So fucking much hard and delicious sausage. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yep."

She tightened her grip on his pulsing cock. "All right, you heard it. Now maybe you'll stop acting like a bashful kid on the verge of losing his cherry long enough to scratch the itch you put in my tush with this juicy muscle I'm holding in my hot little hand."

Trish wanted to put an end to the silly game.

Bruce wasn't ready to end it. He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Thought you said there wasn't time for hanky-panky.''

"Stop teasing me, damn you!" Trish hissed. "I've got the heat, and it's up to you to cool me off!" She spread her legs and tugged on his drooling dong until he climbed between them. She expertly guided its velvety knob to the dampening lips of her pussy and whispered harshly. "Do your thing, cowboy. Climb into the saddle and ride me. Now, now!"

Bruce continued to play the teasing game by hesitating and drawling, "I can't, I'm over the hill, remember?"

Trish cupped his perspiring scrotum in her right hand and applied pressure. She forced a calmness she did not feel into her voice as she said with quiet menace, "One more stall and I'll turn you into a gelding."

"You wouldn't dare!"

She smiled malevolently. "Don't tempt me, you horny bastard. I've wondered many a time during these past few weeks we've been shacking up together how you'd sound as a soprano."

Bruce brayed a laugh. Then he came to a kneeling position between Trish's yawning legs and palmed her now twitching hips. Breath hissed out of his throat as he prepared to insert his whang into her cunthole, but a moment later he sucked air back as a car horn shattered the morning silence and echoed through the nine rooms that made up the headquarters of his Walking C Ranch.

Mild annoyance traced its pattern across Bruce's face as he looked down at Trish and asked, "Were you expecting company this morning?"

Trish released the grip she had on his shaft and moved her head against the pillow. A derisive smile curved her lips. "I'm not that friendly with the natives in this neck of the woods. Exchanging recipes isn't my bag."

Bruce's cock remained hard as he climbed out of bed and crossed over to the window that overlooked the ranch yard. He took his look and spoke without turning, "I'll be go to hell. It's Felix Wellman!"

Trish's full-blown breasts trembled as she bounced out of the rumpled bed and reached for a white terrycloth robe hanging from the open closet door. A frown wrinkled her brow as she wondered what had brought the normally trip-lazy attorney all the way out from Lone Pines so early in the day.

Bruce was wondering the same thing as he located his pants and stepped into them, for momentarily he grumbled, "Sit tight and stay hot; I'll see what the ambulance chaser wants."

Trish laughed suddenly and pointed a slender, red-tipped finger at his erection. "You can't go out like that, lover. Why don't you run some cold water over that big cock of yours and soften it while I admit our unwelcome caller?"

Bruce grimaced. "Water won't help. I'm so hard it will take a meat mallet to make me limp."

"Want me to fetch you one from the kitchen?"

"You're a cruel bitch!"

Cruel? Trish thought as she belted the robe into place and sailed out of the bedroom. You'll never know how right you are!

Knuckles rattled the front door as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she called out irritably, "Don't break the damned thing down. I'm coming!"

Felix Wellman was getting ready to use his knuckles for the second time when Trish unlocked and opened the door. Irritation mounted at the sight of him. The big, balding attorney whose face resembled an amateur sculptor's first failure with silly putty was sweating like a butcher on a busy day, but it didn't keep him from attempting to devour her breasts with his hungry eyes before he complained, "A man could collapse from this damned heat before a door gets answered around here."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch."

Felix continued grousing as though she hadn't spoken. "Why in hell don't you talk Bruce into hiring a live-in maid?"

Trish's voice frosted as she stepped aside to let Felix enter. "Who can afford extra help? Christ, by the time he pays your legal fees out of that dole he gets from Uncle Sam for doing the soil bank thing, it's a scuffle for him to keep me in champagne and other goodies."

A cold smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe you should switch to beer."

Her voice tightened. "And maybe you should drop dead."

"Ouch!"

Trish laughed harshly and turned away. She felt Felix Wellman's hot eyes on her lazily swinging derriere as she led the way into the bar-sized living room. Aware of the attention he was paying her rippling haunches, she silently concluded that the lecherous attorney, who had recently attempted to seduce her during one of those outdoor bashes the locals called a barbecue, wasn't getting all the gash he wanted from his cow-faced wife. Or, for that matter, from the late Hank Lockridge's jailbait daughter. For a wild moment she was tempted to drive his libido farther up the wall by grinding her hips a bit faster, but she didn't. Fuck turning him on. Instead she motioned him toward the sofa and queried, "Can I fix you something cold to drink?" Felix sat down, shook his head. He stopped staring at her robe-covered breasts and became all business. "I didn't drive all the way out here just to get a free can of beer, Trish."

She studied him intently. Ice returned to her voice. "Why the hell did you come?"

"To see Bruce. Would you mind calling him?"

Before Trish could reply, Bruce made his presence known by saying, "Save your breath, hon. I'm here. What's the problem, Felix? Joe Dooley in jail again?"

Felix managed a thin smile. "Don't drop dead from shock, but our boy is keeping his nose clean these days. Actually, I'm here about someone else. Elke Lockridge. With her old man gone for nearly two months now and creditors starting to bug her, the kid is ready to climb a wall. Only first she has to find a wall. She got evicted from hers two days ago. I put her up at the hotel, but that's no place for the girl. Taking her into my house is out. You know Alma and that damn jealous streak of hers." He paused, then continued. "Elke needs a place to stretch out, and that's why I'm here. Think you can put her up in one of your extra rooms until Hank gets back?"

Trish felt a knot start forming in the pit of her stomach. The last thing she wanted or needed was an unwelcome guest on the premises, especially the late Hank Lockridge's daughter, but before she could get her tongue in gear, Bruce said, "No problem, Felix. Elke can move in and stay as long as she wants."

"It will only be until Hank gets back." That won't be until the day after forever, Trish thought, simultaneously damning Bruce for rolling out the welcome mat while aloud she said with forced cordiality, "We'll do our best to make her feel like one of the family."

"I'm sure of that," Felix said, his eyes again glued to the nearly exposed breasts that quivered behind Trish's yawning robe. "In fact, I'm counting on it. And now, I have one more favor to ask."

Bruce nodded. "Ask away."

Felix continued to ogle Trish's almost naked breasts, but his words were directed at Bruce. "Elke knows I came here to bum a room for her. She told me that if you went for the deal, she would like to move in tonight. There's only one hitch when it comes to getting her here. I'm leaving for Boise this afternoon."

Trish spoke up. "Why don't you ask Joe Dooley to bring her?"

Felix shook his head. "Joe's jeep is laid up for repairs. Worse, by tonight he'll probably be in no condition to walk, let alone drive." He locked glances Bruce. "Think you could pick her up?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

It may be your pleasure, Trish seethed inwardly, but it sure as shit isn't mine. Why couldn't Elke have waited until Gabe found the bag of bread her old man squirreled away before he dropped dead? Damn! As if we don't have troubles enough with that Dooley bastard prowling the hills to bug our asses!

Felix Wellman lurched to his feet with a labored sigh. "I'd better be getting back to town. Thanks again, Bruce."

"What are friends for? I'll show you to the door."

"Don't bother; I know the way out." Felix took a final look at Trish's exquisite breasts, licked his lips, then turned and wheezed his way outside.

Break a leg, you goddamn sheep fucker, Trish's mind shrilled after Felix Wellman. Better still, miss one of those hairpin curves on the way back to town and break your fucking neck!