Spouse Swap

Chapter 7

Trish waited until she heard Felix drive off down the lane before she whirled to face Bruce, claws bared for battle. She started to read him off for inviting Elke Lockridge to the ranch, changed her mind. Her brain clicked with computerized precision as truth struck. This was not the time for her to get teed off over something already done. To do so would be stupid. Pissing him off might result in her own eviction. This she didn't want. Not yet. She shook her head. No, better to play it cool. She had this guy wrapped around her finger, and until she and Gabe found the missing loot, she wanted to keep the prick there. Anger sagged. A happy man was not a threat to her or Gabe, and with this in mind she forced a semblance of that enigmatic thing called joy into her voice and said, "It will be nice to have someone around I can make girl-talk with again, lover."

"You mean it?" She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "Have I ever lied to you."

"No."

"Well, I won't start now. I mean it. Thank you for making me happy."

Bruce grinned boyishly. "That's precisely what I was attempting to do before Felix arrived… make you happy."

"You were trying to make me, period," Trish said as she wrapped her arms around Bruce's neck and insinuated the length of her curvaceous body against his. "So pick up where we left off and add ten more inches to my happiness."

Bruce felt his cockshaft hardening as he smiled into her eyes and said almost angrily, "We've been playing it straight with each other ever since I brought you here from the Atomic Club, so don't start catering to me out of gratitude now. Understand?"

"All right, I won't." Trish reached down between them and found his lengthening prick. She traced its pattern along the inside of his left thigh until her fingers touched the egg-sized knob. A smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. "Down with gratitude. Let's do our thing for the same reason we've been doing it these past few weeks… because we love each other."

Bruce was all for it. His big hands quaked slightly as he unknotted Trish's belt and opened the terrycloth robe. Breath belched out of his throat as her naked breasts and copper-colored pubic mattress came into view; then he croaked, "Damn, you look so delicious in those spikes, nylons and garter belt, I don't know where to start grabbing first."

Trish licked her ripe red lips in a moistening gesture. "Want me to take the initiative?"

"Right on."

Trish took a step to the rear and shrugged all the way out of her robe. She toed it aside and shivered as the cool air rushed against her hot, pink nipples and stiffened them. She waited until the delightful tremor passed, then went to work on disrobing Bruce. She unbuttoned and removed his shirt with maddening slowness, causing him to croak warningly, "Better hurry before I lose control and cream in my jeans, wanton."

"That I'd like to see."

The corners of his mouth pulled down. "You just might. The way my balls are aching, I'm damn near desperate enough to do anything to get relief, so do your stuff before I make good my threat."

I wish to hell you would pop in your pants, Trish's inner voice needled. After the way you fucked up by inviting Felix's current shack-job out here, I wouldn 't give a damn if you shit yourself.

Trish laughed softly and reached for his belt buckle. She loosened it, unzipped his fly and followed his pants down to his ankles. Bruce lifted one foot, then the other, and he was standing naked before her, his cock jutting like a sore thumb in a room filled with sadists. Trish's face was alive with a mixture of passion and contempt as she trapped his veined organ in both hands and dipped her head to plant a gentle kiss on the velvety tip of it.

"Ah," Bruce said, nothing more.

Trish palmed his overheated scrotum and kissed the head of his cock again. A faint trace of perverted amusement spread across her slightly flushed face as she looked up at him and said, "Want me to stay down here?"

He chucked her under the chin. "Do whatever turns you on, little rabbit."

"Don't worry about me, lover. I can get my kicks just from staring at a man's dong."

"Stare away."

"I'd rather do something else."

"Like what?"

"Like gobble you up."

Amusement edged his voice. "Gobble? How about translating that into plain English."

"All right, I will. I'm saying that I wouldn't mind sucking the cream out of this big cock of yours… if that's your pleasure. Is it?"

Bruce made no answer.

Trish winced inwardly. This idiot wants to play games again. Christ, he was worse than a little kid when it came to toying with her emotions.

"Well?" she asked with forced calmness. "Do you want me to suck you off, or don't you?"

"That's what I want, but not while I'm standing up." Bruce removed his hard-on from her warm hand and crossed over to the sofa. He sat down and stretched his long legs out before him, then parted them. "Do me here."

Trish needed no second invitation. She wanted to soften his cock and get it over with. She scooted into position between his scissored legs and grasped his rigid rod once more. She unsheathed his cockhead, smacked her lips and murmured, "If anyone interrupts us before I drain your tank this time, I'll kill them."

"And I'll help." He reached out and placed a gentle finger on her lips. "Meanwhile, do your thing, hon; suck and gnaw me into a wild cum."

Trish answered him with motion. Her crimson lips stretched and formed an O, her head dipped and the awesome knob of his oozing organ vanished inside her mouth.

"Ah," Bruce sighed, "these suck jobs before breakfast are what I call living."

You might call this living, but I sure as hell don't, Trish thought as she tightened her lips over his throbbing cock stalk, then relaxed them. Her mood remained acid. Wilting on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, or trying to let my hair down in a whistle stop where the sidewalks get rolled up for the night when the sun goes down, isn't my idea of living. Your ranch, your town; take them, shove them. Give this kid the bright lights of Fun City anytime. Living? Bruce, my man, you wouldn't recognize living if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.

"Get with it, bitch," Bruce rasped as he pressed against the back of her head and forced two or three inches of his shaft inside her mouth. "Show a little enthusiasm and start sucking. Do it. Eat me fast, eat me good."

Trish sensed the urgency that rode him and responded. She hooked a slender finger around the base of his cock and went to work. She milked his whang with her lips, raked it with her teeth, licked with her tongue, and in a few seconds Bruce was puffing and twisting his buttocks all Over the sofa.

A cum.

Soon he would reward her with a hot, juicy, wild cum.

She kept sucking.

Turning him on.

Trying for a complete wipe-out.

"That's the ticket," Bruce croaked as he gripped her shell-like ears and attempted to cram the entire length of his dick down her throat. "Keep working. Yes, Yes, like that! Beautiful! It won't be long now. A few more drags and nips on the old cock should do the trick. Ah, this is what I call really living! So nice. So damn, damn nice! Don't stop! Take me like you mean it! Go, baby go!"

Baby went.

Speedily.

Eagerly.

Hating him while simultaneously enjoying every drop of jizm that dripped from the tip of his cock-shaft.

Nectar, Trish told herself as her head glided back and forth over the slobbering sausage that filled her mouth. Cock juice… is truly the nectar of the gods.

"One more time should do it," Bruce panted as he dug his fingernails into her ears and thrust more of his meat inside her mouth. "The tingling in my nuts tell me I'm almost there! No, I am there! Ah, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

And he did.

Abundantly.

Copiously.

Hot cream spattered against the back of Trish's throat as he erupted, and for the next few moments she was preoccupied with the hot unpleasant task of swallowing… and thinking, Maybe I won't miss you very much when I cut out, but I'm sure as shit going to miss these meals of cum you've been feeding me these past few weeks. And how I'm going to miss them!

Climax completed, Bruce relaxed against the sofa cushions with a longwinded sigh, then drawled, "I hate to sound like a bad echo by repeating myself, but I still insist nobody can hold the proverbial candle to you when it comes to swinging on a limb."

Trish made a slight gurgling sound as she permitted his withering whang to slither out of her mouth, and a sly quality edged her voice as she looked up at him and asked, "Does the nobody include the play-for-play girls at Stella Roller's whorehouse in Lone Pine?"

Bruce helped Trish to a standing position and treated her to a playful slap. "Tricky little piece of baggage this morning, aren't we?" His voice turned gruff. "You know damn well that making it with wind-up dolls is Gabe Penner's bag, not mine. You also know damn well that I've never had strength enough left to go to Stella Roller's after you finished using your cunt, mouth and asshole on this poor prick of mine."

"Ha!" Trish snorted, her eyes probing the depths of his as she continued to give him the needle. "You'd fuck a rock pile if you thought there was a snake under it." She gave him a twisted smile, held up her hand for silence. "Don't bother to deny it. And don't bother to deny that you've been seen entering and leaving Stella Roller's cat-house on more than one occasion since I moved in with you, either."

There were times when Bruce didn't understand Trish. His expression told her that this was one of those times.

He said defensively, "I went there on business." A cruel smile split her lips. "Sure, monkey business, I bet."

Bruce flushed, shook his head. "Making it with a bunch of mechanical moneymakers isn't my idea of a good time, little wanton."

She eyed him speculatively. "Then why do you keep going there?"

"To see Stella. She's an old friend of mine, remember?" He chuckled suddenly. "Hell, there's no need for you to be jealous of her; you're the only bedroom beauty in this man's life."

Trish lost interest in jabbing Bruce with her tongue and shifted the subject. "Speaking of bedrooms, I'd better roust Mrs. Singing Rabbit's fat ass out of her sister's place and get her back here to help me make one ready for Elke Lockridge."

Bruce placed a hand on her right breast and gave it a gentle pat. "You do that, hot stuff. You'll find Jenny Lone Arrow's number in the phone book." He glanced at the ceramic, guitar-shaped wall clock, then gave her jutting nipple a firm tweak between thumb and forefinger and stood up. A labored sigh hissed out of his throat. "As for yours truly, I'd better get my own rear in gear and head for Lone Pine."

Trish took a look of her own at the cheap wall timepiece she considered a carnival giveaway, then frowned at the clown who owned it. "What's with the early trip to town, lover? Is something important shaking there that I know nothing about?"

Bruce shook his head and proceeded to gather his scattered clothing. "You know better than that, sweet lips. Nothing important ever happens in Lone Pine. In Boise, Twin Falls, Pocatello, maybe even Weiser, but never in Lone Pine. Hell, I wouldn't be going in at all if I hadn't made a half-assed date to have lunch with someone today."

She watched him closely. "Stella Roller?"

He grinned. "Yep."

She wrinkled her nose. "I thought so."

"Jealous?"

"A whole heap," she lied.

He slipped his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. His voice licked at her. "Don't be. Stella I like; you I love."

Love? Christ!

"You're sweet." A faint trace of disgust crawled over her face. She was suddenly impatient for him to hit the road, but she took the time to ask, "Will you be making a day of it?"

He thought it over. "Might as well. There's no sense in coming home, then driving back to pick up Elke."

"That's true," Trish agreed solemnly. Then her voice turned teasing as she added maliciously, "It's going to be a long day for you, but I'm sure Stella Roller will shoot her best lick to keep you from dying of boredom."

Bruce stared at her, a puzzled expression in his eyes. "You've got a dirty mind, wanton. All I'm going to do is have lunch with her."

"Ha! Knowing you for the sixty-niner you really are, you'll probably force that blonde bitch to eat your cock while you gobble her snatch."

He leered at her. "What makes you think I'll have to use force on Stella?"

She grimaced. "Ouch!"

Bruce chuckled like a partially clogged drain and left the room. Ten minutes later he reappeared fully dressed, freshly shaven and smelling like a successful Broadway pimp she had once toiled for. She steered him toward the front door and said, "I'm almost out of booze, lover. Pick up a case of my favorite champagne at the Atomic will you?"

Bruce nodded. "Anything else I can do for you while I'm in town?"

"There is." She patted his crotch. "Try to keep this juicy cock of yours out of strange holes until you come back to me, huh?"

"I've got a better idea," Bruce said as "he made a sudden grab for her heaving breasts. "Why don't I forget about having lunch with Stella and stay here to do my thing with your hole?"

Trish forced a laugh and brushed his hands aside. "Not now. Much as I'd enjoy having my pussy massaged, there isn't time. I've got a million things to do before our guest arrives tonight." She opened the door. "Go!"

Bruce went. Reluctantly.