Tasha first saw Leilani at the Monday morning staff meeting, halfway through a boring quarterly update about shipping metrics, sipping burnt coffee and wondering if anyone else in the room was hungover. And then Leilani walked in with their manager as she was introduced as a new hire.

She was small. Quiet. Creamy bronze skin, that looked Southeast Asian. Big, dark eyes that looked innocent, too innocent. Long, glossy hair pulled back in a neat low ponytail. Pastel cardigan. Modest dress. She looked like a secretary from a Sunday school.

Tasha was instantly obsessed.

As she got to know her Leilani proved to always be soft, always sweet. The kind of woman who said “gosh” unironically and apologised if you bumped into her. But Tasha knew better. She’d been around long enough to sense it: the heat hidden beneath the soft. And Leilani was hot in the way that begged to be discovered. The kind of sexy that didn’t need to try. It just was.

Tasha shifted in her chair, suddenly far more awake.

She’d always loved contrasts. Her own dark skin gleamed in the harsh office lighting, sharp lines, strong posture, confidence built over a decade of knowing exactly who she was. Leilani was the opposite. Subtle, understated.

The moment Tasha saw her, all she could think about was Marcus, her husband. Specifically, she pictured Marcus fucking her. Bent over their sofa at home, his large hands gripping those tiny hips. Her polite little whimpers muffled by the sofa cushions.

She and Marcus had been swingers for years. So the idea of her bringing home someone for him wasn’t entirely new. They’d done hotel parties, private events, that one wild night in Miami that neither of them liked to talk about because it always ended in orgasms before the story was done. Tasha loved sex. But what she loved more was knowing Marcus was fucking someone else. He was big. Really big, and he knew how to use it. Tasha had seen it make women gasp, whimper, come too fast, cry. It was her favorite toy. And she loved sharing.

So when she met Leilani, that image, her husband, stretching this soft little innocent wide, stuck. It was almost intrusive. She’d find herself zoning out during budget meetings, imagining the sound Leilani would make when Marcus first slid into her. Would she beg? Try to take it all? Or just tremble and thank him?

Of course, none of it mattered if Leilani wasn’t game. And at first, she didn’t seem like the type. Tasha flirted gently, nothing too bold. A compliment here. A casual joke there.

Then came the printer comment.

During a particularly rushed day the printer jammed as Tasha was trying to get a set of handouts printed. “Aghh,” Tasha screamed. “It’s jammed again. I’m about to lose it.”

Leilani, eyes wide but amused, sipped her coffee and replied, “That’s just what I said last night.”

Tasha almost dropped her pen. It wasn’t much but it hinted at a dirtier side to Leilani. Over the next few weeks, she pushed harder. Slowly revealing that side of her new friend. After a few weeks she was sharing stories of her and Marcus’s various escapades. Describing past nights. Leilani blushed, sure, it was adorable, but she listened. Asked questions. And the look in her eye when she described other women's reaction to Marcus’s cock. Tasha could practically see the thought forming in her head: I want to try it.

By the time the company Christmas party came around, Tasha had made her decision.

Leilani had to be next.

That night wasn’t a fishing expedition. It was a hunt. A final push over the line she'd been slowly drawing for months. She’d done the groundwork. Earned Leilani’s trust. Teased out that hidden little hunger she knew was buried behind the cardigans and careful smiles. All she needed now was the green light.

The hotel ballroom was cheap glitter and watered-down gin. A disco ball spun overhead like it was clinging to relevance, and the DJ had already played three different versions of “Last Christmas.” But none of it mattered. Because Leilani was wearing a silver satin dress that clung to her hips like it had been painted on.

Even more importantly, well nearly as important at least their husbands were joining them. Marcus was finally meeting the couple she’d decided they were going to fuck.

Makoa, Leilani’s husband, was exactly what she expected from her description, slight like his wife, soft-spoken, but with a quiet confidence that made Tasha arch an eyebrow. He had a calm energy, the kind that didn’t need to fill a room, in marked contrast to her own husband. 

Marcus was at his cocky best. Broad-shouldered, smirking, lounging into the plush hotel seat like it was a throne. His dark skin against the navy suit was enough to make Leilani trip over her words twice. Tasha noticed. She lived for that moment, when a woman realized what Tasha had, and knew that she was willing to share.

Marcus wasn’t just a good lover. He was an experience. And Tasha got off on sharing him. Like, really got off on it. Most of the time she would have sex with the husband of whoever she was sharing Marcus with but sometimes, when the girl was single, she would just wait in the next room, listening to the sounds. 

Sometimes, if the girl was open to it, and only after trust had been established, Tasha would watch. Quiet. Observant. Never the first time. That was her rule. She didn’t want to steal focus. This wasn’t about her.

She could never quite explain what it was that she liked so much about sharing her husband, not even to herself. The best she had come up with was that it was essentially a brag. Showing off to these women the man she had managed to bag and that she was so secure with him that she didn’t mind sharing. 

That didn’t fully capture all her emotions on it but it was the best rationale she had for why the thought of Marcus ploughing his massive cock into other women had such an effect on her. 

And now she was focused on giving Marcus to Leilani.

The small talk faded as the drinks flowed. Someone brought over a tray of shots. Tasha took two. Makoa had three and started loosening up, laughing louder, telling some story about a honeymoon disaster in Tahiti. Marcus leaned in to listen, half-listening, half-eyeing Leilani’s crossed legs.

Tasha leaned over to Leilani, voice low. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Leilani blinked. “Thinking about what?”

“My husband,” Tasha said, eyes gleaming. “Fucking you.”

Leilani went scarlet. But she didn’t deny it.

Tasha smiled. “He’s… a lot. But I think you’d love it.”

Makoa leaned in, catching the tail end of that. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you’re not planning to fuck me,” Tasha said sweetly.

Leilani coughed into her drink, eyes wide. Marcus just grinned, unbothered, sipping his bourbon like he’d heard this kind of talk a hundred times, which, to be fair, he had.

“Wait, wait,” Makoa said, trying to laugh it off but clearly sensing the shift in tone. “You’re not serious.”

Tasha tilted her head. “Oh, I’m always serious about pleasure.”

Marcus leaned in a little, his voice deep and amused. “We’re swingers,” he said simply. “We don’t make a habit of pressuring anyone, but if we like someone, we ask.”

Makoa looked at Marcus. His voice was quiet. “You’ve… done this before?”

Marcus nodded. “Plenty. Usually with other couples.”

Tasha added, “Mostly it’s a simple swap wife for wife and we go into separate bedroom and have…some fun”

Makoa was watching her. “You’re actually into that?”

Tasha turned to him, smiling wickedly. “You have no idea.”

There was a pause.

Not awkward. Not uncertain.

Just long enough for the idea to settle in the air, like heat rising off summer pavement. Makoa and Leilani whispered quietly for a moment before Makoa finally spoke. His voice was steady, but his grip on his glass had tightened.

“So… how would this even work?”

Tasha leaned back in her seat, slow and graceful. She took a sip of her drink and smiled. She had them.

Leilani looked from Makoa to Tasha, then to Marcus, then back again. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were bright. Curious. Hungry.

She’d had Leilani half-hooked for weeks. The way she listened to stories, the little gasps when Tasha described Marcus’s... talents, the way she bit her lip whenever Marcus was nearby. That interest wasn’t new. It had just been waiting for permission.

But Makoa, that had been the unknown.

Until now.

Tasha had clocked him watching her. Not rude, not obvious. But definitely intrigued.

“We’d have a talk,” Tasha said calmly, “about what everyone wants. About what everyone’s not into. What’s allowed, what’s off-limits. No surprises. No pressure. Just four adults being honest about pleasure.”

Makoa raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t interrupt.

“We pick a night. Just the four of us. Early dinner, drinks. And then we go back to ours. Separate rooms, unless someone changes their mind. No pressure. No surprises.”

“And… we just… switch?”

“Just like that,” Marcus said, amused.

Leilani was biting her lip. Tasha watched her. She was already imagining it.

Good.

Tasha leaned forward, voice a low purr.

“So. You in?”

A week later Tasha sat at the bistro table, one heel slipped off, swirling her second glass of wine. The lighting was low, the service slow, and the food forgettable, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Leilani kept shifting in her seat like her panties were already damp. And that Makoa couldn’t stop glancing at Marcus’s hands when he lifted his glass. 

Tonight was the night. Dinner first. A chance to ease in. A chance to pull the emergency brake if anyone lost their nerve. After dessert, they could either call it a night, go home separately, no questions asked, or come back to Tasha and Marcus’s place and see where the night took them.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Leilani said, laughing nervously into her wine.

“I can,” Tasha said, eyes glinting. “You’ve been ready since the moment I caught you staring at my husband at the party.”

Leilani flushed. “You noticed that?”

Marcus grinned. “She notices everything.”

Makoa chuckled, but his hand found Leilani’s under the table. He laced their fingers together and gave her a squeeze. “We talked,” he said. “We’re both in. As long as the rules are clear.”

Tasha nodded. “OK, well in that case: rule one, this is a one-night arrangement. We’re not opening the floodgates to casual hook-ups whenever someone’s bored. If something changes later, we talk. But this night is self-contained.”

“Fair,” Makoa said.

“Rule two: I’m on birth control.” Tasha sipped. “Leilani?”

“On the pill,” she said, cheeks still flushed but eyes steady. 

Tasha nodded. “Perfect, then if no one objects I suggest we forgo the rubbers. Myself and Marcus were tested for STDs last month and we haven't swung since, and I’m assuming you two have just been monogamous for ages.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. She saw Makoa grin broadly at the idea of going raw. 

“Rule three,” Marcus added smoothly, “is consent, obviously. If anyone’s uncomfortable, we stop. No pouting, no pressure, no explanations needed.”

There was a brief, collective nod. Nerves still buzzed beneath the surface, but it was mostly anticipation. It was similar to what Tasha often sensed with people new to swinging.

Tasha crossed her legs under the table, slowly. Her dress slipped up just enough for Makoa to notice. She caught the flash of heat in his eyes and smiled.

Leilani licked her lips. “So after dinner…”

“You’ll have a choice,” Tasha said. “You can head home. No judgment. No hard feelings. Or…”

She let the pause hang in the air like a promise.

“Or,” Marcus finished for her, “you come back to our place and… well, fuck.” he chuckled at his inartful summation.

Makoa glanced at Leilani. She looked at him, eyes wide but shining.

No one said anything for a moment.

Then Leilani leaned forward, picking up her wine. “Well, we’ve already got the babysitter until midnight.”

Makoa smiled. “Might as well make the most of it.”

The cab was too warm. Or maybe that was just Tasha’s blood.

They’d all piled into the back seat like teenagers sneaking home from a party, Tasha and Makoa on the left, Marcus and Leilani on the right. The space between them didn’t last long.

Tasha could feel it, the tension, thick and buzzing, like static before a storm. No one was speaking now. They didn’t need to. The decision was made. All that was left was the drive, the waiting.

Leilani's thigh was pressed against Marcus’s. She wasn’t pulling away. Her hand crept up, slow, casual, and landed on his thigh. Just above the knee.

Marcus let her.

Tasha watched it all from the corner of her eye, one hand resting lightly on Makoa’s leg, her fingers tracing circles on the fabric of his slacks. His breathing slowed just a little. She smiled.

“So,” she said, her voice low, lazy, “are we done pretending?”

Leilani giggled. That girlish, slightly drunk kind of laugh that came from nerves and need all mixed together.

“I think we’re past pretending,” she said, not even glancing up as her fingers inched higher.

Marcus leaned back, spreading his legs slightly, just enough to tell her to go ahead.

Tasha turned her attention to Makoa. His cheeks were pink, but his cock was hard under her palm. She could feel it, even through his trousers. She gave it a soft squeeze. He exhaled through his nose like he was trying not to moan in the back of a cab.

She leaned over and kissed his neck. His jaw clenched. She licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “You’re going to be fun.”

He shivered.

The cab pulled up to the curb. Tasha dug in her purse for cash and tossed a tip at the driver, who either hadn’t noticed or was desperately trying not to care.

They climbed out. Tasha turned to Makoa and Leilani.

“This is your last chance,” she said, still breathless. “You can call it off right now. No judgment. We’ll go inside, you two go home, and we pretend we just had an excellent meal and a dirty group fantasy.”

Leilani didn’t even hesitate. She spun, grabbed Marcus’s hand, and leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Take me to the bedroom. Right now.”

Marcus laughed, deep and warm. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tasha watched them disappear inside, then turned to Makoa.

“She’s ready,” she said, grinning.

Makoa’s eyes were wide. Nervous. Turned on.

Tasha stepped close and took his hand.

“We’re in the master bedroom,” she said. “Follow me.”

The moment they entered the house Tasha heard it.

Leilani's giggle. Light, breathless, the kind of sound that made you think of tangled bedsheets and knickers halfway down thighs. Then Marcus’s voice, low, warm, a chuckle she knew all too well. A sound he made right before he pinned someone down.

Tasha felt it between her legs immediately. A fresh throb. Wetness slicking her knickers as her mind conjured up the image with startling clarity: her big, dark-skinned husband pulling Leilani’s dainty little silver dress over her head, kissing her neck while his thick cock pressed against her soft, untouched cunt. She imagined Leilani gasping, eyes wide as she realised just how much man she’d agreed to take.

Tasha grinned to herself as she led Makoa into the bedroom.

Their master bedroom was warm and softly lit, and a subtle musk of sandalwood and sex in the air. Tasha turned to Makoa and leaned back against the door, letting her eyes rake over him. He was watching her slightly unsure of what to do.

“You alright, love?” she asked, smirking. “You look like you’ve just realised you forgot to wear pants to school.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… a bit surreal.”

She stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “You’ll get over that.”

Her hand slipped to his belt and made quick work of it. She undid the button, dragged the zip down, and cupped him through his briefs with an approving hum.

“Ooh. You’re already hard. I do love a man who’s eager.”

She kissed him then. Her tongue slid into his mouth while one of her hands slipped beneath the waistband of his pants to wrap around his cock. He gasped into her mouth, hips jerking forward, and she smiled against his lips.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Tasha sank to her knees, tugging down his trousers and briefs in one smooth motion. His cock bobbed free, not huge, not Marcus, but a nice length with a subtle upwards curve, its flushed tip already glistening. She wrapped her fingers around it and stroked slowly, watching his face.

“Not bad, Makoa. Not bad at all.”

She leaned in and licked along the shaft, savouring the salty warmth of his skin. Then she took him into her mouth, inch by inch, until her lips met her hand. Makoa let out a strangled moan, hands gripping at the air as she chuckled at his reaction.

She sucked him slow, deliberate, teasing him with her tongue, her lips, the soft wet sound of it all. Her pussy clenched at the thought of Marcus, just one room away, splitting Leilani open on their guest bed. She imagined her husband’s hands spreading those little legs, that massive cock sliding into an impossibly tight hole, Leilani’s prim little voice cracking on a moan.

The image made Tasha moan around Makoa’s cock, and he groaned in response, hips twitching.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Tasha, fuck, you’re good at this.”

She pulled off with a wet pop, smiling wickedly. “Baby, we haven’t even started.”

She stood, licking her lips, then tugged her dress up and off, revealing smooth brown skin, full breasts, and a pair of lace knickers already soaked through. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and slipped them down slowly, eyes locked on his.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered, voice velvet and steel.

He obeyed.

Tasha climbed over him, straddling his lap, her slick cunt brushing against his cock as she settled. She rocked her hips, grinding against him, the heat of her centre coating him in her arousal.

“Your wife’s getting stuffed by my man right now,” she whispered into his ear. “And you are about to fuck his wife.”

Makoa whimpered.

“You like that, don’t you?” she asked, nipping his earlobe. “Knowing she’s never had anything like him before. Knowing you’re both getting fucked like you’ve never been fucked before.”

He nodded, speechless.

Tasha reached between them, guided him to her entrance, and sank down slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried inside her.

“God, yes,” she hissed. “You feel so fucking good.”

She started to ride him, slow at first, deep, grinding strokes that had him gripping her hips like he didn’t trust himself not to come too quickly. She didn’t care. She wanted him to struggle. She wanted to see him try to hold back while she imagined Leilani screaming into the mattress as Marcus fucked her like he meant it.

Tasha threw her head back and moaned.

Tonight was perfect.