Summer Swap 3.13

More than ten inches, they discovered. Sully guided her hands, never touching Philippe’s erection, but comfortable working close to it with her, almost hand-over-hand at times. She’d pushed the tape’s zero end into the bushy seam where Philippe’s enormous penis emerged from his body, gripped it thee, her hand C-clamped around the ultra-thick base. The other hand, Sully’s light grip on her wrist, ran the tape up to the bulbous head of Philippe’s cock. It was a plump and might knot, smooth and sexy, its lone and deep-set eye looking up at her while she whispered the number she read off the tape. “Ten. More than ten.”

The whole time, Philippe lay comfortable and placid, hands behind his head, smiling, watching them work, enjoying the respect they were showing to the mighty totem of his masculine power.

And while her small hands worked over the bulk of his shaft and corpulent head, her husband had one hand shoved down the front of her shorts, his fingers plying the curled wet folds of her opening. He’d encouraged out her swollen clit, and the pad of his thumb would sometimes squash it against the inside bend of his fingers, and when he did, her lashes would flutter, her head would rock, and her sight would blot with phosphorescent pleasure.

Sully whispered, “How thick is it?” His fingers curled and breached her insides and she gasped and moaned a wild sound she’d never heard before. Philippe unfolded his hands from behind his head, going up on an elbow to support his weight while he coddled one breast, his thumb brushing over a sensitive nipple.

She began to hump against Philippe’s crotch, making his balls squash outward each time she did, and Sully’s fingers eased deeper with her motion. She was breathless by the time the tape measure circled the girth of Philippe’s cock. She could barely make out the numbers; her heart rate jostled her vision, and the excitement had brought a sheen of wet to her vision.

“Almost... almost eight,” she panted.

Sully whispered, “Satisfied?”

“Very.”

Philippe took hold of the tape measure, threaded it from around his cock, and tossed it off the side of the bed. “We should get down to business now.”

Sully said, “We should,” plunging gentle thrusts with bunched fingers, plucking her nipple, Philippe doing the other. She’d lost control of them and they were taking over. There was little she could do to fight back; the pleasure was wonderful. She’d held them at bay, under the heel of her control, by the ruse of wanting to measure Philippe’s penis. Who cared about the number? Fourteen inches, ten, twelve, a hundred, five, four, three, two, what the fuck ever. It was a beautiful thing; it was big and attractive and that’s all that mattered.

Philippe said, “Get her naked. Show me what she’s got.”

“I have a name, you know,” she gasped.

Sully laughed and bit her neck right where it swooped to her collar. It turned her to warm butter, and she slumped on Philippe, both men now working on getting her on her back. Philippe rolled, Sully guided, and Philippe and her husband lay her on the bed on her back, her shirt off, her breasts rolling around. Then her knees were up to her chest, and Sully was shimmying her shorts and panties off.

“Hey,” she said with a weak voice, pretending to bat away her husband’s hands, like he was offending her dignity by showing what she had to this other man.

Sully tossed away her shorts and gathered her panties in a fist, holding the bundled fabric to his mouth and nose. “She showered and cleaned just for you, man.”

“Coming down here, knowing what she wanted.”

“What a bad girl,” Sully said. “She’s soaked them, though.” He handed the panties to Philippe, who did the same motion, holding the panties to his nose and breathing in her scent. How humiliating.

“She’s so fucking hot,” Philippe said.

“Uh-huh,” Sully said, cupping his hands on the points of her knees. She’d held her thighs together, but now her husband parted them so Philippe could get a look at that most secret part of her. She’d walked around naked, but he’d never got so close a look at her innermost secret. But now he saw it, admiring it, brow lowering, cocking his head one way then the other as he looked at her bared pussy with unabashed enjoyment.

Philippe asked Sully, “Can I touch it?”

“Be my guest.”

“Hey,” she said, closing her knees together. “I have a name. And you’re supposed to ask me if you can.”

But even with her knees closed, her privates were still bared, and now Philippe’s beefy finger stroked along her wet slit, and she emitted a quavering, awful sigh of dirty pleasure.

“She’s acting awful feisty for a woman so overheated,” Philippe said.

“She thinks we don’t notice,” Sully said.

She rolled her eyes as if they were talking crazy, but they weren’t. An overpowering urge to copulate twisted her frame like there were horses pulling at four points, trying to tear her apart. She’d never intended to have sex tonight, but it would be dishonest to say she’d thought it was impossible. Especially if she’d been able to coax Sully to join her—and she did.

She looked at both men on their knees on the bed, naked, aroused, Philippe’s ridiculous oversized organ almost touching the bed. Her expression went coy, and she eased her gaze over to Sully. “I thought you wanted to see if I could get it in my mouth.” And with that, she stroked a foot against Philippe’s dangling member.

The deep breath Sully inhaled—pupils dilating, eyes widening—showed her she could get the upper hand again if she wanted, and Sully better know she could. But Sully surprised her, not recoiling from her presented sexuality; he was riled and active, indicating for Philippe to sit at the foot of the bed. She lay with her head to the side, watching Philippe take position at the foot of his bed, big shoulder muscles flexing, putting his legs out wide, his ample male beef dragging on the bedding.

She said to Sully, “What are you doing?”

Sully got over her, forehead to forehead, smiling and crazy-eyed. “You want to suck it, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Lay your head on his thigh, baby.”

“Yeah?” She kind of liked Sully instructing her, and she hadn’t thought she would have. “Show me.”

Sully guided her to crawl between Philippe’s open legs and lay on her side with her cheek on the inside of his furry thigh. His cock looked even bigger than when she’d measured it.

She peeked at her husband, looking as innocent and guileless as she could. “Like this, baby?”

* * *

Lily’s terrible orgasm rushed upward a cyclone of shame. Another man—Cody—made her come from tonguing her dirty part. And she could do nothing about it, chained in place, tied and stocked and naked. All her most naughty girl parts were spread wide for some man to take advantage of. And that dirty man—Cody—had bathed her anus with his slippery tongue, doing all kinds of perverted things to her. Shameful, awful things she’d be mortified for her Master to discover. But she was ten times worse than Cody because she’d orgasmed from it.

She bawled her shame into the bedding and the man’s leather-glove hand stroked her back. She rocked her face into the quilt. Why couldn’t he—Cody—just put his big thing in her and get it over with? Why would he try to make her come like that? Was it to make fun of her? Put her in her place? What kind of man—besides her Daddy—would tongue her most private of places? A place meant not for sex, not for intimacy. Not unless you really loved the person. But Cody was immoral, and he probably liked doing it every chance he’d get. She’d even confessed to Arlo her opinion on what kind of man Cody would be in bed. How could she have been so right? Gosh, what a horrible predicament.

She said aloud, “Please, don’t make me come again.” But the ocean sounds drowned out her own voice, and she heard no reply from the man—Cody. “Just do what you need to do and let me back to my Daddy. Okay?”

And right away, the man—Cody—put his tongue into her bottom hole again, the point practically spreading her aperture and sinking into her body. She squealed and babbled and kicked her little feet in protest, a shiver passing up her back, the threat of an even bigger orgasm.

* * *

Sully watched his beloved wife pleasure Philippe’s huge cock head with her lips and mouth. Scarlet would pull on his foreskin with her pinched lips, force the too-big glans in her mouth, her lips peeling back his foreskin, his unsheathed cock head sliding on her gullet. She liked doing it and she liked knowing he watched. His cock ached and his prostate had tightened up like a squash ball. If he wasn’t mindful, he might shoot his load over her legs while he watched her.

Her hand held a loose grip mid-shaft, Philippe’s huge organ down one leg, held in place, Scarlet using his thigh as a pillow as she treated his cock like some carnival treat. God, Philippe’s cock pumped pre-come. Scarlet had it in her mouth. She tasted the sexual product of a man who wasn’t her husband! Why the fuck was that so hot? Because it was taboo? Because it was forbidden? Probably because he loved her; it escalated the displayed sexuality into the stratosphere.

Scarlet was long and lean and fucking perfect. Seeing her stretched out across the bed, naked, sucking a sexual object she found arousing, was almost too much to bear. he hoped Philippe wasn’t kidding about going all night, because he couldn’t hold out much longer. he ached to ejaculate. Ached hard.

In fact...

He guided Scarlet’s top knee higher, scissoring her legs, and she never stopped trying to get more of Philippe’s cock in her mouth. With one leg higher, her sweet pink pussy was exposed. Philippe had touched it. That shiny little muffin belonged to Sully, for crying out loud.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he said, getting over her body on hands and knees.

“Am I?” She tried to keep a straight face but let loose a blubber wet laugh against Philippe’s cock, a strand of spittle keeping her lower lip connected to his swollen cock head bulging out the wrinkled collar of his foreskin.

“You know you are,” he said, getting near her ear.

“You wanna try?” She angled the end of Philippe’s cock toward him, like he could join in if he wanted.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got other plans.”

“Oh yeah? What are you—”

She sighed and gasped, her lashes fluttering as he thumbed his rock-hard husband cock into her groove and eased himself all the way in until his balls squashed against her in a wet and eager slurp.