Spouse Swap

Chapter 9

Elke Lockridge felt her own vagina turn wet as she lay in the smothering darkness and listened to the sounds of lust coming from an adjoining room. She took a deep breath that shook her breasts and asked the ceiling, "How many more times do you think Bruce will be able to take Trish before he collapses from exhaustion?"

The ceiling made no answer. She envisioned Bruce panting his way toward a coronary and grinned. Talk about a vagina hound. Earlier she had listened to Trish lick and slurp him into a moaning orgasm, but now they were bucking and fucking… again. Shivers shot through her system. She clenched her thighs together and silently wished she could do some heel-clicking of her own… with Joe Dooley.

Only Joe Dooley wasn't here. The lanky man who had beat Felix Wellman to her cherry by one night and the man in the next room by even less than that, wasn't due to meet her at the cabin in Lonesome Valley until… when? She glanced at the travel clock on her dresser, grimaced. It would be another two hours before he showed. Could she stand the agony in her vagina that long? She doubted it. Listening to Trish and Bruce going at it in the next room, she would probably lose control and end up taking a ride on her finger. She giggled and kept listening. "I'm almost there!" Elke heard Trish shrill passionately above the protesting bed springs. "Close. So damn close! Take me all the way to the top! Ram that big dong of yours deep in my pussy and make me cream all over it! A cum! Give me a wild cum! One more stab should do the job! Ah, no, it didn't! Try again. Batter me! Yes, yes, like that! Ah, I'm bombing, I'm bombing!"

Trish's voice died, the bed springs stopped creaking like rusted hinges on the front door of a haunted house and a few seconds later there was nothing but the silence for Elke's ears to feed on.

Peace. But not for long. There was an almost instant renewal of activity; then she. heard Bruce croak, "You made it; I didn't. Don't leave me dangling, little wanton. Shift those hips and that pretty ass of yours into overdrive so I can get my rocks off. Fuck, baby, fuck!"

"Like this."

"Faster!"

Trish responded…

Damn! Elke thought as she slipped a hand under the blushing-pink nightie she was wearing and touched her tingling tush. I knew I'd end up doing this to myself! She shuddered. Then she removed the hand from her wet snatch and slipped out of the warm bed. No, by God, I won't play stink finger with myself! I can hold out until I see Joe. I know I can. Then she heard Trish and Bruce come to life again, and added, But it won't be easy.

"Enough," Elke heard Bruce rasp. "I've had it."

"I know. I even remember when you took penicillin to cure it."

Bruce laughed. "I ought to pluck every hair out of your pussy for saying a cruel thing like that to me."

"Why don't you screw me instead?"

"Not interested."

"You will be. I know how to turn you on again. A bit of conversation always does the trick. It's doing it now. Take a good look at yourself. See? You're getting another hard-on. A few more spicy words, a few more strokes with my hand, and you'll be ready to go again."

"What's with the hand bit?" Elke heard Bruce ask as she crossed over to the window and stared out at the moon-bathed night. "Hand is singular, and far from being correct in this particular instance, because you've got both hands on my whang."

"Stop complaining."

"Who's complaining? I'm enjoying the way you're jerking my pud. Hell, little wanton, I could even cream from the tension in your fingers."

"Maybe you could, but you won't. That cock juice of yours is too good to waste on the ceiling. I want it any way I can get it. In the mouth, in the cunt, even up the ass."

Surprise edged Bruce's voice, and Elke could almost see his eyes bulging in their sockets as she heard him say, "You'd let me poke you in your asshole?"

"Why not? You've poked me there before."

"Yeah, but only once, and then you bitched about the pain while I worked to get my gun off."

"You shouldn't have shoved it in all at once, you bastard. Damn, even drunk I thought I was being attacked by Manny Black that night."

Bruce chuckled like a prairie dog, then said, "So much for ancient history. Now stop chattering like one of Felix Wellman's bribed witnesses and keep stroking my prick. I'm starting to lose my erection."

"Lying bastard. You're harder than a pimp's heart, and you know it. A few more pumps and the juice will start flowing from the nozzle of your hose. Mmmmm, I can't wait to get at it."

"Be my guest."

"Pass me a napkin. I loathe sloppy eaters."

Another shiver rippled through Elke as she envisioned Trish's yawning mouth dropping to devour Bruce's massive organ, and a moment later she muttered, "I wish I had Joe here so I could do the same to his."

Wish in one hand…

She turned away from the window and crossed over to the rumpled bed. Breasts heaved, nipples tingled, and her pussy ached for the sweetness of release from torment. She glanced at the travel clock again and sighed. Between eavesdropping and watching those damn hands crawl around the face of the clock, she was getting wound up tighter than a cheap pocket watch.

Her brow creased in a frown. Maybe a drink would calm her down a little. She nodded. Yes, a drink would help. So would a move to another part of this big house.

Elke slipped out of her sheer pink nightie and tossed it on the bed. She turned toward the dresser, opened the top drawer and selected a white half-bra and matching bikini panties from her multicolored assortment of unmentionables. She dropped the half-bra on the dresser top and shook the skimpy briefs out of their fold. She knifed forward to step into them. She lifted one leg, then the other, and momentarily the elastic waistband was tugged into place around her hips and beneath her pouting navel. She patted her crotch, smiled, reached for the bra. She reversed the half-cups so that she looked as though she had breasts on her back, locked the snaps, then twisted the hammocks around and under her full, cherry-tipped tits. Bra in place, she told her mirror image, "Joe will go off his stick when he sees my titties in this rig."

Sparks of smug satisfaction glinted in Elke's dark eyes as she whirled away from the dresser mirror and crossed over to the spacious walk-in closet. She removed a pair of sand-colored Levis from a white plastic hanger and stepped into them. The pants hugged her hips, thighs and buttocks as though they had been sprayed into place, and she knew without checking that the rim line of her panties was being outlined through them. A smile curved her lips. The too-tight jeans were being worn for Joe Dooley's benefit, for occasionally he enjoyed spanking her without wanting to disrobe her. If the mood hit him tonight, she wanted to be ready… for anything.

"The way I feel right now," Elke murmured as she donned a sweater and gave her pointed breasts an affectionate pat, "it wouldn't take more than two or three whacks across the fanny to make me cream my kitty."

She laughed as she sat down on the edge of the bed to cover her dainty feet with white socks and black Justin walking boots, and she was still laughing when she heard Bruce roar, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

You're coming, Elke thought as she slipped out of the bedroom, and I'm going.

She picked up a bottle of vodka on her way through the living room and carried it into the barn-sized kitchen. She mixed herself one of Bruce's favorite drinks at the kitchen sink, then carried it over to the table and sat down with a weary sigh. She was getting ready to light a cigarette when she heard the clearing of a throat, and turned to find Trish Asher standing in the doorway, watching her with narrowed eyes.

Elke forced a smile to her lips and asked, "Where's Bruce?"

"In bed," Trish answered as she crossed over to the cabinet above the sink and plucked a glass from the middle shelf. "That last suck job did him in; he was too weak to scratch a match to light my cigarette by the time I drained his tank."

Elke laughed. "I'm not surprised. I didn't expect him to last as long as he did."

Trish went on as though Elke hadn't spoken. "An hour from now he'll probably be pawing the floor again. But for the time being he's had it." She kept chattering while she opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of champagne. "I'm sorry if we kept you awake, hon."

Elke glared at the naked redhead's beautiful backside and thought, I doubt that, you dirty bitch. I don't think you've ever been sorry for anything or anyone in your entire life.. You've never had the time. You've always been too busy reaching for the old brass ring. Well, I've got news for you, doll. You missed catching it the night Daddy died and got his ass dumped in that well in Lonesome Valley, and when you and that prick partner of yours find the money… you're going to miss it again. Sorry? Don't try to con me, you greedy bitch!

And aloud she said, "That's all right. Maybe Gabe Penner will tranquilize me when he gets back from town."

Trish joined her at the table. She frowned as she glanced at the wall clock. "Damn, it's nearly midnight. Gabe should have been back by now."

Worry clouded her face. "I'd better make a few calls to see if he's all right." The telephone rang before she finished speaking, and without thinking she added, "That's gotta be him."

It was.

"Trish?"

"Yeah, Gabe, it's Trish. What's up?"

"My dander, mostly. I had to call a tow truck for my pickup. Someone sabotaged it."

Trish's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Care to take a wild guess as to who did the job?"

Gabe sucked wind, then said menacingly, "If you're looking for another dumping, that's a good way to get it, puss."

"Sorry."

"Fuck the sorry bit. Just get your ass over here to pick me up, okay?"

"Sure, Gabe. Where will I find you."

"At the bus depot."

"I'll be there in an hour."

"Make it sooner than that."

"I'll try."

"Don't try, do it."

Elke saw the anger that masked Trish's face and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Trish snapped as she walked out of the kitchen.

Nothing? Elke's lips curved in a sneer. Who does the bitch think she's fooling?

Elke waited until Trish took off for town in that knocked-up roller skate Bruce had bought three summers back from a local lemon peddler who called it a sports car. Then she finished her drink and slipped out her rendezvous with Joe Valley. the back door to keep Dooley at Lonesome