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SUMMER SWAP 2 // Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2022-08-10 00:00:05 +0000 UTCWhether Scarlet would sleep with Philippe was as yet undetermined. Still debatable. Or more accurately: could she sleep with Philippe? She had a distinct attraction to the man’s genitalia, but they may be incompatible. The thing was truly gargantuan. She’d watch it from her lower periphery, pretending to engage Philippe in conversation while they talked, laughing, smiling, nodding, her eyes flicking downward every once in a while to look at it dangling over the edge of the pool toward the water. But the way Philippe was sitting—with his legs out wide, his balls and cock hanging right before her eyes, it was like he more than welcomed her gaze, he encouraged it. He knew he had something to be proud of.
She’d never known this about Philippe. Of their gang he was the least likely to show up at a function unless Cody and Carla were there. He was Cody and Carla’s friend. And his wife Paloma wasn’t unfriendly, just not as tight as the rest of the girls were—plus English was Paloma’s second language, and Paloma sometimes must have felt left out even when they did their best to enjoin her in their fun.
Maybe the breakup between Paloma and Philippe was a result of the guy’s penis. Like it was just too big. She couldn’t take the day-after suffering.
She’d had a boyfriend once who had nine inches. Vinnie. Sometimes if they got too acrobatic, she’d be sore the next day. And that didn’t ease over time, it was almost all the time after lively lovemaking. But, yeah, when Vinnie took his time and they played around a little, she’d loved that thing he’d had between his legs. Philippe had more than nine inches. He looked eight inches sometimes even when he wasn’t hard. Sometimes while they were talking it would shrink up a little, one ball would go up or down, his penis would shorten. Other times it sagged and lengthened. It had a mind of its own. Vinnie had a long cock, but it was a normal girth. Sully was pretty thick. Her husband had a pretty great dick, truth be told. But Philippe’s was wider than her wrist, just sitting poolside with a lazy dick, not hard at all.
If she ever got the will to actually for real swing with Philippe, it would just be foreplay. She’d like to get between his hairy, muscular legs and play with his big floppy dick, get it hard, run her tongue on it, peel back his foreskin and—
Cheyenne’s voice: “Don’t you think?”
Scarlet said, “What?” Totally lost in her own world. No, the world of big penises.
“He’d kick us off,” Cheyenne said.
Now Philippe laughed. “No way. We paid to be here. No one cares, Chey.”
“Back me up, Scarlet,” Chey said, brows knitting.
“About what? What are we talking about?” She laughed and shook off her reverie, totally embarrassed. Her nipples had hardened and she’d grown damp sitting here thinking about dick. A married woman. Thank goodness her legs were crossed.
Philippe smiled at her knowingly, and it unnerved her—like he knew her thoughts, knew he’d spellbound her with his big penis presented the way it was, swaying back and forth like a hypnotist’s pendulous pocket watch. He said, “Chey thinks the captain will kick us off the yacht if he catches us all naked.”
She laughed and shook her head.
Chey said, “He’ll think we’re shooting a porno.”
“Where are the cameras, Chey? Back me up, Scarlet, we are definitely not the first people who’ve been naked on the ship this way.”
She regarded Chey, her friend with anxiety, out of her shell and swinging, but now reverting to her old fretful ways, worried about getting in trouble by the authorities and how embarrassed she’d be.
She hooked an arm around Chey in support for this woman she cared about so much—a thing she had done a hundred times—only now that they were naked, the act thad their breasts touching, her hard nipple batting against her sorority sister’s hard nipple. They both realized it and laughed, reeling back from each other, scooting their butts apart on the pool edge. She could still feel the tickle on her nipple where Cheyenne’s had touched it. They laughed and showed each other icky expressions.
They still chuckled but shared an awkward moment together, getting through it and shrugging it off, but at the same time, in this sexually charged morning, she couldn’t help feeling like this was too strange, and too far. There were lines not to cross and that was one of them. This wasn’t a free-for-all. Hell, really, it was nothing—it was just her setting off some firecrackers to make Sully jump, not her stepping foot into the world of swinging and bacchanalian orgies.
Breasts not touching, sitting now a foot’s distance between hips, she held the back of Cheyenne’s neck and caressed it. “Chey can get worked up. She doesn’t like to do the wrong thing.”
Philippe threw up his hands. “That’s what I’m saying, Scarlet. There isn’t a wrong thing. Not on this yacht. We can do whatever we want and the captain’s not going to care. As long as we’re not smashing the furniture up with axes or commandeering the yacht and steering it into icebergs, the guy won’t care. He’s not even going to come aboard, anyway. Not without a warning.”
Scarlet continued to caress Cheyenne’s tense neck, saying, “We do need a warning from the captain before he boards. I don’t know if you know it, but back in the sorority, Chey and I used to worship Moloch. We would definitely get kicked off if the captain caught us naked and preparing a human sacrifice to our god.”
Cheyenne at last relaxed and loosened, and put a hand on Scarlet’s wrist, smiling. “We promised we would quit sacrificing,” she said.
“It’s kind of addictive,” Scarlet said. “And promises are made to be broken.”
Then she turned, smiling at Philippe, who also was chuckling. Only something had changed, and she couldn’t help her eyes widening. That thing between his legs, dangling toward the pool water, had grown. It had gone through different iterations while they’d talked, shrinking and extending, but this new turgid growth was definitely from arousal. It had thickened as well as lengthened, and it had begun to levitate from where it emerged from his body, lifting up from his sack in a heavy arc, the coronal rim of his large cock head pressing out against the foreskin.
This time Philippe caught her looking at it and the moment was awkward for both of them. Her cheeks went hot and Philippe did a sort of sly but sheepish smirk, and right away she knew what had provoked it: when she’d hugged Cheyenne and their breasts had touched.
That strange and uncomfortable knowledge made her fingers tingle in an unexpected way and her heart raced faster. Now she smiled at Philippe, too, a sort of sympathetic expression, showing him she understood the troubles of a high-testosterone male witnessing two hot sorority sisters accidentally squash breasts together. It also charged her up with an unexpected feeling of power over Philippe, he of the massive weapon, who probably had girls jumping into his bed whenever he wanted.
Philippe lifted his butt off the pool edge, muscles in his shoulders bunching, and pushed off, slipping into the pool, feet first, giving her a wink on the way. Somehow the wink didn’t come off as arrogant—she interpreted it as a tip of the hat, like he knew she’d been playing around with him, teasing her husband, and he didn’t think she’d get the better of him. Maybe he even thought she’d squashed breasts with Chey for his benefit. But she had got the better of him. That also meant that the whole time he’d been sitting with his legs wide apart, he’d been doing it for her benefit, showing off to her the thing he suspected she liked.
Her icky expression returned, but with it also came a shiver of arousal. That had been a strangely intimate exchange between her and Philippe. She’d only been doing this to rile Sully, to see how he might react, to make him a little crazy—but there had been an odd connection she shared with Philippe in that moment, like the two of them were sizing each other up and enjoying this dance of flirtation, both of them thinking they were better than the other.
She chuckled and faced Chey, Philippe in the water under their feet, doing a breaststroke and crossing to the far side. His naked ass—a really nice one—visible under the sparkling water’s surface. She leaned close, their sun heated shoulders touching. “I won.”
Chey said, “Won what?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlet said. “But I know I won. Did you see the size of that thing?”
Chey nodded, her mouth squished to one side, her expression a little bewildered.
“You only saw it soft, huh? I wonder how big it gets.”
Chey’s eyes widened, turned down to the water but unseeing. Her mouth opened and she took a breath like she would say something, then changed her mind. She chewed her cheek nervously and looked around.
Scarlet asked her what she was thinking but Chey shook her head and said, “Nothing. I’m not thinking anything.” Her cheeks had blushed.
Scarlet whispered to her, “Okay, don’t make a big deal—I want you to kind of peek over my shoulder, take a look at Sully, tell me how he’s taking this. Do not let him see you.”
Chey chuckled and nodded, began untangling her hair and shaking it out. She leaned closer to Scarlet and let her eyes flick back to where their husbands stood behind them by the railing. Their sides pressed together and Chey whispered, “He looks pretty green. I don’t think it’s sea sickness. Did you talk to him about this at all?”
Scarlet whispered, “About what?”
“Swinging.”
Scarlet shook her head. “No. We’re not going to swing, baby. I just want to drive my man crazy. A jealous husband is easier to manage and isn’t going to stray. I want it so all he’s thinking about is me.”
Though—if they were to swing, if she did want to put her hands on Philippe and play with his huge penis, Sully would also get to play, and she sure didn’t want him going to Carla’s bedroom. Carla might break Sully in two. Or worse, give him things she couldn’t. Though she had no idea what those things might be.
Her eyes went up and down Cheyenne’s naked body. Her sweet friend, her beloved sorority sister. God, Chey was beautiful. The way her skin took color from the sun made Scarlet envious. And they looked quite the same, too. Similar height and build and features. Cheyenne wouldn’t rock Sully’s world. It would be much like Sully was sleeping with his own wife.
Cheyenne would be a back pocket play. If she decided to spend some time with Philippe, and, of course, if Sully allowed it, she could encourage Sully to go to Cheyenne instead of Carla and her vast repertoire of sexual tricks.
Cheyenne said, “Why are you making that face?”
“Oh,” she said, relaxing her features. The distaste she had for Sully being with any other woman showed on her features. “Just thinking.”
“You’re not going to do it? Swing, I mean.”
Chey was worried if her buddy Scarlet had the restraint not to indulge, it meant she thought Chey was weak or perhaps immoral. And she didn’t think that at all. “I want to,” she admitted, nudging her chin to the big, hairy, muscular man coming up for air on the far side of the pool, swiping his black hair away from his rugged, bearded face. “I’m just playing around for now. I’m trying to torture Sully.”
Chey smirked sideways, hiding it from their husbands. She said, “You’re so mean.”
Scarlet chuckled, fluttered her feet in the heated pool water. “Yeah, I’m so mean. Right. Tell me this: if I’m so mean why are you laughing?”
Chey hid a bigger laugh behind a graceful hand. “Because it’s pretty funny.”
Scarlet said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” slipped into the pool, buck naked, and swam toward Philippe.
Comments
Tracey52
Oh Oh.
