Summer Swap 3.10

Both men presented their shrouded genitalia to her. Two confident men who were fun and easy to talk to. Shit, she married one of them, and loved him to bits. Her hands tugged their waistbands downward in synchronized fashion, tugging on the left, then tugging on the right, like climbing a ladder. Her most-familiar friend popped free first; upright and raging hard, parting the fly of Sully’s shorts and shooting forward like the figurehead prow on a nation’s mightiest warship; Sully’s erection was a finely carved acrostolium, the fluted lip of its helmet head flared and pronounced, thick and meaty; a testament to her husband’s maximal hardness. This was her Sully at his most engorged; a totem of his highest arousal. A silvery stream shimmered in a long liquid line from the urethral snick, down the belly of his turgid shaft, staining dark the fabric of his fly.

On her left, the lowered shorts had revealed the mighty bough emerging from Philippe’s muscular trunk, an implausibly wide limb buffeted by coarse black pubic hair, bent downward by his suffocating cotton shorts. It had grown harder and larger, straining against the material and lengthening down his shorts leg. Philippe didn’t sport underwear.

“Hang on one second, love,” she whispered to Sully’s eager penis, touching a finger pad to its slippery point and tracing down his penis’s sensitive underside. Sully moaned and shivered, and more lubricant pulsed.

She turned her attention to her marriage’s invited guest, taking the shorts’ waistband and, instead of tugging downward, tugged them upward, snugging the fabric against Philippe’s swelling member. A fleshy knot of wrinkled foreskin and fat cock head bulged naked below the hem of his shorts’ leg. She whispered, “Wow,” truly awed by the freakish size of his penis.

With thumb and forefinger she squashed a gentle effleurage, rolling the pads together, Philippe’s abundant foreskin between. He also pulsed his lubricant. she guided the foreskin upward to reveal an enormous porcelain-smooth purple-gray glans.

She let Philippe’s cock head go and pushed back, feeling overheated, cheeks flushing. She fanned her face and smiled up at both sex-hungry men, liking the expressions they showed her; it revealed her sexual power over them. Poor Sully, smart-mouth husband and loving co-conspirator: thinking he had the upper hand, toying with her, turning over prop tables she’d set up for him to flip, thinking he could knock out a stuntman cowboy with the candied glass she handed him. She’d riled her man into the red zone and then let him take the wheel, let him show off what a bad ass driver he was. Like she cared. All that interested her was their destination.

As she pulled her hair back from her face, neither man needed further instruction, both of them shooting their shorts down and stepping out of them, then returning to the poses they’d had, hips jutted forward, showing her what they had like they were at the urologist.

Philippe’s growing penis was a true marvel; an unreal and equine tubiform, a heavy, dangling pound of meat. It was wider than her own wrist. The thing could comfortably sport the Gucci watch Sully bought her at Christmas. She’d like seeing that; her black leather band circling Philippe’s beefy girth, the circular gold face showing the time, resting center—but not eclipsing—Philippe’s broad brown-skinned tenderloin.

Even Sully looked sideways, regarding Philippe’s dangling flesh club, assessing the thing with a look of admiration and maybe awe.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, still pulling her hair back like she would make a ponytail, though she had no binding for one. “I have never seen anything like it.”

Her hand returned to her husband’s bounty, gripping it mid-shaft, a surge of his warm pre-come spilling over the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Though her eyes remained on Philippe’s penis, she had a fear of touching it. So far this had mostly been a fun bit of gameplay; yeah, she’d rubbed on his foreskin, but the act of gripping his penis still seemed out of bounds. But she wanted to. Wanted to grip it, play with it, study it. Sully had brought down her tape measure, too. And speaking of Sully, her husband was rock hard in her stroking grip; she’d dirty talked him her fantasy of playing with Philippe’s monster cock and he’d responded with extreme lust; and, hell, she’d put her hand on Cody’s impressive pipe and all it did to Sully was make him wild for her. When it was all over with Cheyenne that night in Cody and Carla’s bedroom, Sully didn’t say much about her sorority friend. All he could talk about was her and her hand on Cody’s penis.

She looked up to meet Sully’s eyes. He smiled. She said, “We’re really doing it.”

“No, we’re not,” he said, plain-faced and distant.

“We’re not?”

“No, you’re just sitting there talking about it. What are you, chicken?”

When Philippe chuckled at the way they talked to each other, it made his heavy member sway between his legs like a stiff pendulum. It had lengthened even further; she swore it was only a hand’s breath from the top of his knee.

She scoffed and backhanded Sully’s erection, making it wag. Sully gripped it and held it still as she swiveled on her chair to face what she came to this room for.

* * *

The anticipation was killing him. His wife now faced the biggest penis he had ever seen in his life. From locker rooms to the thousands of hours of porn, he’d never seen one bigger. It was a thing of legend. Scarlet’s pretty, feminine hands rested on Philippe’s hips, her eyes going over every millimeter of Philippe’s endowment, a sly and satisfied smile on her perfect face. She even nibbled her lower lip. When she was brave enough, her right hand slid down Philippe’s hip, between his legs, her grip circling his enormous shaft. It looked pretty hard, like he was erect, but it was too heavy to fight gravity, doing its best, but remaining down and outward like a metal detector scanning the beach. Scarlet’s circling thumb and forefinger didn’t meet around its girth. There was a gleam in his wife’s eye. She really enjoyed this. Was turned on by it. Not to the point of wanting this other man inside her, but to the point of a sexual curiosity. What he liked best about it was that it put her in this weird perspective he’d never considered his wife in before: one of youth and puberty, his wife as a horny teenager, before he ever knew her. Who were her girlfriends back then? When she talked to those girls, what did she wonder about sex? What wild claims did she make? It brought him near the point of laughter, considering this woman he loved from a whole new point of reference. It was almost like a gift to see her this way, to share this with her.

He said, “That’s a great piece, huh?”

“It’s amazing,” she said without regarding him, her hands more comfortable handling another man’s penis while her husband watched, moving this enormous dong left to right, checking out all its angles, lifting it upright and laying its bald length in the black scrub grass of Philippe’s hairy abs. The end of the thing was a whole inch or two above Philippe’s navel. He said to Philippe, “You must be pretty used to this.”

Philippe shrugged and cocked his head, like maybe Sully would be surprised by the answer. Philippe said, “It’s always different.”

Scarlet said, “How many girls have run out of the room screaming when they saw it?”

Philippe’s expression wasn’t so enthusiastic now, and it reminded him that Philippe was a man with feelings and thoughts and fears and desires, just like anyone else. Just because he had between his legs what every man in the world dreamed they had, didn’t mean it was all sunshine and roses. Philippe said, “Quite a few.”

Scarlet was too entranced at the moment to register Philippe’s look Sully had seen, so Sully stepped in before his wife accidentally said something she thought was funny but could be interpreted by Philippe as callous. He cupped the back of Scarlet’s silky head, stroking his wife’s hair with love, saying to Philippe, “I think Scarlet’s a fan.” Perhaps there’d been a girl a long time ago, or maybe even recently, one Philippe loved, who’d unzipped his pants and treated him like a circus freak. Not every girl in the world was a horny little cock fanatic like his wife. Fuck, he’d love to say that to her right now just to make her mad, but he wanted to preserve the buoyancy of the moment, and maybe save Philippe from hurt feelings. He said, “Look at her admire it. I wish she paid this much attention to mine.”

Philippe chuckled, and Scarlet shot Sully an indignant look. “I went over yours pretty good when we started dating, buddy.”

Sully wagged his hips and made his cock tick back and forth. “That was a long time ago. What about right now?”

“Aw,” she said, pouting, tenting her brows to taunt him like he might cry soon if his wee-wee didn’t get any love, “did I ignore my little baby boy?” She ran her grip up his shaft and he got so faint at her heavenly touch his knees went soggy.

“Baby boy?” He grunted and dipped, trying to grip consciousness again. “Hardly.”

“Sully’s got a great piece,” Philippe said. “You’re lucky to have it.”

“You tell her,” Sully said, putting his hands on his hips and jutting them forward, showing off to them both every inch he had. Scarlet laughed, stroked him a little more—fuck, had he ever gone slippery.

“I love his piece—by the way, I hate the word piece—I wouldn’t be with him if it didn’t do all the things I wanted it to.”

“That’s a high commendation,” Philippe said. “What word do you prefer?”

“I’m more of a ‘cock’ girl.”

“I’ll say,” Sully said, laughing.

She batted his cock again, then re-gripped it, laughing with him. Now her brow furrowed, and she said, “I can’t help ignoring one more than the other with you so far apart. I need you guys closer.” Scarlet’s grip on his and Philippe’s penis tightened, and she began to tug them, making him and Philippe face each other. They smirked at one another, and Sully moved his eyes around, feeling awkward.

“That’s better,” Scarlet said, but still with a slight sound of dissatisfaction. “Closer,” she urged, squeezing his dick harder, tugging him closer to Philippe. He shuffled closer and—

The tip of his penis touched Philippe’s.

“Hey,” he said, jolting, squirming.

Scarlet said, “Sorry, baby, I need you guys closer, and Philippe, well, he’s just so darn big.” She met his gaze and right away he saw a thrill there. Like maybe this had been part of her plan all along: get him down here in Philippe’s suite so she could do freaky shit with their penises. But what was wrong with that?

Philippe said to Scarlet, “If he doesn’t want to...”

Scarlet said, “He wants to make me happy.” Then she looked up at Sully again; his wife holding two dicks lined up facing each other, her hands stroking and gripping them. He was so fucking turned on right now he couldn’t remember a better sexual experience in his life than this crazy one here with his own wife.

“Whatever floats your boat,” he murmured, and Scarlet smiled.

She tugged them closer and the spongy end of his cock squashed against the spongy end of Philippe’s cock. The head of Philippe’s cock dwarfed his own. A full and corpulent army helmet—leaking seminal fluid just like his, their two shiny knobs squirming all over each other, shining wet, so sensitive and succulent.

“Hoo,” he sighed, getting lightheaded again, knees going to jelly. He buckled, his cock slipping away.

Scarlet said, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, gulping air, surprised how insane the erotic feeling he had just accelerated when their cock heads touched. He jutted his hips forward again, pushing his cock against Philippe’s, and Scarlet beamed. This was so fucking crazy and they hadn’t even started yet. His wife still had her clothes on.