Ship Shape (Patreon)

Several nautical miles off the coast of Spoonerville, Pete has begrudgingly invited Goofy along for a little off-shore fishing, due in part to no small amount of nagging from his wife. Peg, however, has ulterior motives for inviting their neighbor along…none of which involve cutting bait or casting fishing poles.

Out on the bow of the boat, clad in the most revealing bikini she owns, Peg lays on her stomach sunning herself as they cruise along. She can almost feel Goofy's constant stare, watching as her jiggly bits undulate and heave from the pounding waves. As if by design, back in the wheelhouse Goofy stares in disbelief as the buxom housewife unties her bikini top, flipping the strings aside so as not to get any tan lines.

Goofy: (almost silently) Ohh, Garsh.

Pete: You say somethin'?

Goofy: Errr... Uhhh... I mean... Garsh, it was awfully nice of you two to invite me along, Peter.

Pete: Uh-huh.  You can thank her for that.

If she didn't have his full and undivided attention before...a little smirk crosses her lips as she reaches down to untie her bikini bottoms...she definitely has it now. Pete, however, pays her little attention. Knowing full well what she’s up to, he tries to concentrate more on not running his uber-expensive pride and joy over some unseen reef rather than his ever-de-clothing wife. Unbeknownst to Goofy, Peg and Pete have been swingers for years...and the husband knows exactly when his wife is on the hunt.

Why she chose this buffoon is beyond him.

Goofy visibly swallows, making a gulping noise as he does so, watching as Peg flips her bikini‘s bottom flap off of her butt cheeks. From his vantage point, he can clearly see her puffy, untanned labia…Peg nonchalantly spreading her legs a bit to give him a better view. Out of the corner of his eye, Pete can't help but notice his neighbor's jaw drop, practically bug-eyed as he stares at Peg's ample ass.

Pete: Hey, sweetie? Would yuh mind getting us men-folk a beer?

Peg: Why certainly, dear.

Standing up, her bikini remaining on the deck, the naked housewife makes her way back through the wheelhouse. Passing between the two, Peg smiles at their slack-jawed guest, making a point to reach up with her index finger and physically close Goofy's mouth. Stepping into the salon, ever aware that Goofy hasn't taken his eyes off her, Peg bends at the waist, arching her back theatrically as she fishes a couple of beer cans out of the cooler.

Returning to her husband, Peg opens the can and hands it to him, making a point of wrapping an arm around his bicep as she tosses the second can toward the dumbstruck canine. Goofy bungles the catch, juggling to retrieve the wayward can. The recovery a success, Goofy's attention returns to Peg...just in time to see her biting her lower lip, her eyes fixed on the extremely pronounced bulge in his Hawaiian-themed surf shorts. Looking up, one eyebrow cocked, the redhead gives Goofy a hedonistic smile as she points toward the bow.

Peg: Care to help a girl put on some suntan lotion?

Goofy merely blinks at her, Peg waggling her finger at him in a come-hither gesture as she struts past him and back onto the deck. Goofy's eyes dart from her to Pete, and back again...watching as the full-figured woman pops her hips, practically stripper walking to the front of the boat.

Pete: Jesus, Goof. Does she have tuh spell it out for yuh?

Goofy: I... I... Uhhh... R-really, Petey? Yuh mean yuh...? Me 'n her...?  You're not gonna, like, keel haul me or fit me for concrete galoshes are yuh?

Pete: (under his breath) The thought had occurred to me.

Goofy: P-pardon?

Pete: I said... She likes tuh have her poop deck swabbed, if'n yuh know what I mean.

Goofy stares at him, having clearly -not- understood the reference.  Pete closes his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation.

Pete: Just...  Just get out there and eff'er already.

Several hours later and several thousand feet up, the Sea Duck does slow orbits over the Pete's yacht.  Baloo, never missing the opportunity to ogle at some sun tanning hottie...or in this case, some suburbanite fox getting spit-roasted...he queries Kitt as they both stare out the pilot-side windows at the boat below.

Baloo: Say...  Isn't that the tourist Beckers was hittin' on a coupla months back?

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Original Sketch by Wicka

Colors and Edits by Phillipthe2