Summer Swap 6-15

Cody laughed at her harassment and grabbed his dick to hide it. “I’m not getting hard, Scarlet.”

Philippe didn’t touch his, just said, “Mine’s adapting to the change in temperature.”

Cody agreed. “Yeah, mine too. Mine’s wondering why anyone would drag it out of its sleepy spot when it was so comfy.”

“Mine, too,” Philippe agreed. Two big shots with great equipment acting all confident because they didn’t know what else to say, standing face to face with another bottomless dude.

She looked at both their dicks (Cody letting his go now) and said, “Philippe, I hate to say it, but yours is kind of ornery.”

Philippe laughed, but behind him, Paloma was confused, maybe even miffed or insulted, saying, “Or-nair-ee? O que é aquilo?”

Philippe said over his shoulder, “Like a bad attitude, Paloma.”

“Ah,” Paloma said, reconciled, nodding in full agreement.

Looking over at Paloma put Sully in Scarlet’s periphery, and Sully boy was scrutinizing her. She asked him why he was looking at her.

He said, “You and that dick.”

She sighed and hid her face for a second, but decided shame and submission didn’t work for her and it didn’t work for Sully, either. Sully liked it when she was naughty. She snuggled into his side again and he accepted her, holding her close.

Carla got up and went around to stand behind Byron and Chey’s sofa because she could only see her husband’s bare ass from where she’d been sitting, bringing her wine and getting a better view of the showdown’s principal players. Lily joined her, sidestepping her way behind the sofa as well.

Carla said, “Pull up those T-shirts a little, boys. We want a good show.”

Cody looked at his wife, shaking his head. Both he and Philippe lifted their T-shirts up to their sternums, showing themselves off, their big pendulous genitals getting close to touching.

Scarlet fanned herself, and Sully pushed her away like he was disgusted—but her man was letting her have her fun, not seriously bothered. Byron, on the other hand, looking to be growing perturbed. No smile, watching these two grade-A specimens getting all the girls hot and bothered. Including his wife. Including his wife big time.

Lily, with her phone in one hand still, made a motion of bringing two hands together and touching the points of her index fingers, saying, “let’s get going, guys, you gotta make ‘em touch.”

Carla said, “Make ‘em kiss each other,” then sipped her chardonnay, smile curling up on one side.

Arlo looked over at Sully and they both shook their heads. Then Arlo left his sofa and went to join Byron, sitting next to him, and though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could tell they were pretending to talk about sports. Byron was relieved by the company and he even nudged Cheyenne’s elbow with his own, jutting his chin toward the action, meaning go get a good look if she wanted. Byron was good to Cheyenne. Cheyenne looked at Byron and there was some sort of communication there, no words spoken, just looking at each other. Then Chey stood and stepped to the side so she could get a better look at these two men touch their sexy penises together. Arlo and Byron got comfier on the small sofa and pretended they didn’t want to look at all, but both of them kept shooting over quick glances.

Cody held his piece in a weird overhanded way and stretched it and tugged it, getting it looking its best, Scarlet figured. Philippe held his at the base with a thumb and finger and waggled it, slapping it on his thigh—also plumping it up so it would look its best.

Cody said, “What was it, twenty seconds?”

“Thirty,” Chey said.

“That seems like a really long time,” Cody said.

Philippe said, “it really does.”

Sully poked her, then said to the guys, “Bunch of chickens here. Look at this, round one, and they’re backing out already.”

“We’re not backing out,” Philippe said. “And you’re welcome to come bring your pecker over here and join in if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll be right over,” Sully said drolly, sitting back and putting his feet up on the coffee table, lacing fingers behind his head.

Lily clapped her hands. “A lot of talking, not a lot of mushing, fellas.”

Sully leaned close to Scarlet. “Where has this Lily been?”

“Crazy, huh?”

Lily touched fingertips together again, saying, “Let’s get them touching.”

Both Cody and Philipp grumbled like they weren’t into it, but it looked like they weren’t that unsettled. They shook out their dicks a couple more times, then took them and held them out awkwardly, still about an inch apart.

“A little closer, guys,” Carla said. “You’re almost there.”

Tittle by tittle, their soft cock heads came toward each other, and at last they met, their grayish shapes osculating, flattening.

Cody and Philippe each made groans of discomfort, feeling their friend’s dick on their own, both of them looking up now at the starlit night beyond the yacht’s canopy.

Sully thrashed in his chair suddenly, like someone had made a toddler eat a mouthful of spinach.

She said, “You can’t take two guys touching tooters?”

“Nope,” he said, voice tight, face turned away, toward her, his features scrunched up. He fell against her, and she cuddled his head to her bosom like a mom protecting her child. She did not look away.

He said, “Are you still looking?”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

Cody said, “Is anybody counting down?”

Arlo said, “I got you guys. Twenty-eight . . . Twenty-seven...”

Philippe sighed. “Can’t he count any faster?”

Paloma stood, brining her wineglass along, slinking up behind Philippe and grabbing his bare ass. Philippe jolted, the act of jolting thrusting his penis into Cody’s. All the girls laughed, and Paloma went to join them, four ladies standing across from her and Sully and enjoying the show.

“That’s it, you gotta really mush ’em, guys,” Lily said, bent over like a third base umpire, hands on skinny knees, trying to get a good look at the action. “I want to see them go all like flat against each other.”

More groaning, but Philippe and Cody obliged them, putting their hips forward until their two heads mushed the way Lily had described, the guys holding their member just behind their glans’, their shirt hems tucked under their chins.

Scarlet rose and circled the table, going around to join the girls, not wanting to be left out. She had a contribution already in mind, getting up next to Carla and saying near her ear, “Philippe should have that turtleneck back, right?”

Carla agreed, brow lowering, nodding. “Yeah, hey guys?”

“Now what?”

“Yeah, you gotta pull that turtleneck back, Philippe. They need to be hole to hole.”

“Oh my god,” Cody sighed, rocking his head back on his muscular neck. “Arlo, what’s the time?”

“Twenty . . . Nineteen...”

More groaning. Scarlet and the other girls laughed. Sully curled up on the sofa, covering his head. Byron and Arlo pretend not to look, Arlo looking at his phone counting down, but eyes flitting up to check out the action, too.

Lily said, “If they come apart when you do it, then you have to start from thirty all over again.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Philippe muttered.

“You can’t change the rules mid-mush, Lily.”

Lily sauntered up close, almost between them, looking up at Cody.

“You have to play the game right,” she said. “You like playing games, don’t you, Cody?”

“I guess,” he said.

Philippe worked his other hand into the fray and crawled his finger son his shaft to pull back his foreskin, his shiny bulb showing now, still mushed against Cody’s. Lily turned her face down to make sure they didn’t come apart.

“There,” she said, looking at Cody, “was that so hard?”

“I’m not the one with the turtleneck,” Cody said, laughing.

“No,” she said, putting her hands on hips, up on her toes, narrowing her eyes on Cody, who looked at her and flinched, seeing her so close and mean-mugging him like that. Lily said, “For a guy who loves playing games, you sure do kick up a fuss when it’s not going your way.”

Cody laughed at her, his shoulders shaking, trying not to let his dick come away from Philippe’s. “‘Kick up a fuss,’ Lily? You’re from New York, not Tennessee.”

Lily kept on with the mean-mugging, being really cute about it, and Scarlet looked to Carla, who just shrugged. No one could have expected stuck-up Lily could be this fun and quirky.

Lily said, “You’re playing games with me now, cowboy. We’ll see how much you like games when you’re playing them with a player.”

Cody looked at her, all suspicious, eyebrows wriggling quizzically. He laughed again. “What does that mean? Why do you keep saying that? Playing games.”

Lily went to her tippy-toes and met him eyes to eye, Cody still laughing. She said, “I think you know what it means, mister,” dropped back down to her heels and returned to the group of watching ladies, winking at Chey.

Philippe said, “What’s the time, Arlo?”

“Eight . . . Nine...”

“Slowest thirty seconds ever,” Philippe muttered.

Sully still covered his head, curled up like a prawn, but began guessing the time, calling out, “Six . . . Five...”

Carla said, “I’ll drop a hundred if Philippe docks him right now.”

Both guys broke up laughing and their dicks came apart. Lily shoved her hand out, angry finger pointing at their dicks, proclaiming, “Thirty more seconds!”

Both guys covered up their junk now in two hands, their shirts dropped down, trying to talk their way out of it. “Hey, come on, that’s not fair. It was on time, it was on time. It had to be.”

Lily looked to Arlo and Arlo winced and held up a shaky hand, meaning it was iffy whether it was truly on time.

“You gotta give it to us,” Cody complained.

Carla said, “We’ll give it to you for five seconds of docking.”

Cody groaned and sighed, head rocking back again once more. Both the guys looked really good right now, with their muscular bodies, shorts pulled down, beefy tanned forearms and big hands cradling their generous baby-making apparatuses.

“I don’t know what docking is,” Scarlet said, “but I think I’d drop a hundred to see it.”

“Me too,” Chey said.

Paloma looked to Lily like she was the main arbiter. “O que você acha?”

“Okay voca what?”

“You’re the judge, Lily,” Carla said. “What do you think?”

“It does seem fair,” Lily said, considering it and rubbing her dainty chin with the wisdom of Solomon. “I’ll allow it.”

Cody said, “What if I don’t want to get docked?”

“Then you better like holding your dick to Philippe’s for thirty more seconds, chief,” Scarlet said. Carla laughed and slid Scarlet a low-five.

Chey whispered to Scarlet, “What’s a dock?”

“Beats me,” Scarlet said, shrugging.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Carla said.

Cody stared at them all, looking so manly and yet boyish somehow at the same time. A veteran; a surprise apparel mogul who’d somehow moonwalked himself into a multi-million dollar fortune. He studied them, deep in thought, handsome mouth tucked to one side, thick blond hair framing his angular face, both hands supporting his ample man-meat. He said, “How about this: first of all, you can all keep your hundred dollars—”

“Good,” Chey said.

“But,” Cody continued, “I’m going to need to see a little something, you know? For the effort.”

They grumbled in out-of-sync unison, “Like what?”

Cody looked at Philippe, and they both smiled.