Marcus was having a great night. Tasha had been right when she though Leilani would be perfect for him. She was flat on her back, legs folded up tight to her chest, her ankles resting on his shoulders as he fucked her into the mattress. Her hair clung to her face in damp strands, eyes rolling back with every stroke. Her cunt was soaked, taking every inch of his cock as she moaned.
“Ohh, fuck, Marcus!” she sobbed, body trembling, fists twisting the sheets.
“Come on,” he growled, fucking her harder. “Take it. You’re almost there.”
She whimpered, shaking her head, but her hips bucked to meet him anyway. The poor thing had already come twice, this was just cruel now. She was overstimulated, trembling, wrecked. But she hadn’t said stop. And Marcus could feel her walls fluttering, clenching, fighting to hold him.
He grinned.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You love it, don’t you? Love getting your tight little cunt stretched by a proper cock.”
“Yes, fuck, yes!”
Her legs kicked out to the sides. She screamed, high and broken, as her whole body snapped taut. Her pussy clenched around his massive girth like a vice, wet heat pulsing with each wave of her climax.
“Marcus, oh God, I’m, fuck, I’m cumming!”
He didn’t stop. Drove straight through it, his own orgasm building fast now. She was so tight, so wet, spasming around him, her cries turning to gasps and broken sobs. He grunted, slammed deep, and held it, cock throbbing.
He came. Balls tightening, hips jerking forward as he filled her with a long, guttural groan, spilling deep inside her trembling cunt. The warmth of it made her twitch again, another tiny aftershock rolling through her.
They collapsed together, panting, tangled in sweat and come and tangled limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and dazed.
Marcus kissed her cheek, still pulsing inside her.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
She nodded, breathless. “I’m so alright.”
After they recovered and cleaned up a little they headed down to the living room.
Marcus strolled into the living room, rolling his shoulders, shirt still hanging open, skin glistening from the workout Leilani had just given him. She followed, looking half-dazed and all smug, curls messy, a lazy grin plastered across her flushed face.
Tasha was already lounging on the sofa, legs tucked under her, robe hanging off one shoulder. Makoa was flopped beside her, eyes glazed, hair damp, his expression somewhere between satisfaction and confusion, like he hadn’t quite processed what he’d just done.
Marcus cocked an eyebrow.
Tasha met his gaze and grinned. “Good time?”
“Oh, she’ll be walking funny tomorrow,” he said.
Leilani sank into the armchair and blew a slow breath out. “Worth it.”
Tasha stretched, slow and catlike, then turned toward Makoa. “I told you he was good,” she said, nudging him with her foot.
Marcus caught the look.
He didn’t mind the attention, he was used to being admired, but something in the way Makoa was watching him set off a quiet buzz of tension.
“Looks like I missed a show.”
“Oh, you did,” Tasha purred, sipping her wine. “Our boy here’s got a thing for toys. Took a strap like he was born for it.”
Leilanis eyes widened in shock at her husbands exploits.
Makoa didn’t flinch. He smirked. “It’s true, I was nervous but it was a revelatory experience.”
Leilani giggled and dropped into the armchair, legs folded up beneath her. “Honestly, it was kind of hot hearing you moan through the wall. Now I know why you were so loud.”
Tasha turned, her grin sly and slow. “Which brings me to an idea.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” he said.
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, eyes flicking between Leilani and Makoa. “You two have done well tonight. Learned a lot. Had a few firsts.”
Makoa chuckled nervously. “Understatement.”
“Well,” Tasha continued, “seems a shame to stop now.”
Marcus frowned slightly. “What’re you suggesting?”
She set her wine down. Stood up. Walked over to Marcus and dragged a finger down his chest. “Makoa’s had some fun with a strap on. But given how much he enjoyed it, I thought he might enjoy a turn with a real expert.”
“Tash…”
“Oh, come on,” Leilani cut in, practically bouncing in her chair. “You’re not telling me you won’t at least think about it?”
“No,” Marcus said, arms folding. “That’s not my thing.”
Makoa raised his hands, palms up. “Hey. No pressure. I’m not pushing anything. Just saying, if you were curious, now would be the time.”
Marcus didn’t reply. This wasn’t a scene he’d pictured himself in. He liked control. Liked knowing his role. And this? This was uncharted territory.
Then Tasha stood up.
She crossed the room with that slow, deliberate sway of her hips, the one that always meant she wanted something and intended to get it. The one he found it very hard to say no to. She stepped in close. Real close. Pressed her body against his and slid a hand down between them.
Her fingers wrapped around his cock. Still half-hard. Still slick from Leilani’s cunt.
She started to stroke him.
“You know what would turn me on more than anything?” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Seeing you fuck him. Seeing you grip those hips and own him. That big, thick cock of yours buried inside him. Watching his face when he realises just how fucking good you feel.”
Marcus closed his eyes for half a second. Her hand was warm. Wet. Perfect.
She kept going, voice lower now. “You’d still be in control, baby. Still dominant. Just a different kind of domination.”
Behind her, he could hear Leilani’s breathing heavily. Makoa’s soft exhale.
The room was charged. Waiting.
He opened his eyes.
Still undecided.
But… not saying no.
Not anymore.
Tasha was good at this.
Too good.
Her hand stroked him with the kind of rhythm that had driven men to say yes to far more than a bit of arse play. Her voice was syrup and sin, her fingers coated in the juices covering his cock, her robe slipping lower as she leaned in closer.
“You’d still be in charge,” she murmured, brushing her lips across his neck. “You’d be taking what’s yours. Just in a new hole. That’s all. Same power. Different view.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
He wanted to say no. Keep the lines clear. He didn’t fuck men. That was the rule, wasn’t it?
But the images were already forming in his head: Makoa on all fours, looking back at him with flushed cheeks, panting, begging. His tight little hole stretched wide around Marcus’s cock while their wives watched. It’s not gay if you’re wife is watching, right?
His cock was getting harder.
Tasha smiled.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” she whispered.
Then another presence pressed against his other side.
Soft, warm, and still smelling like sex.
Leilani.
She wrapped herself around his left arm, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
“Marcus,” she breathed, voice high and wrecked and dangerous, “I can still feel you inside me. I’ve never been filled like that before.”
Her hand slid down, fingers trailing along the opposite side of his shaft. Tasha still stroked the other.
“You were so deep,” Leilani moaned, her voice a soft, breathy ache. “You stretched me until I couldn’t think. My body still feels like it’s yours.”
Marcus groaned, low and deep.
Then she tilted her head, brushing her lips against his jaw.
“Please,” she whispered. “Let him feel it too.”
Marcus froze.
Leilani pressed her body tighter against his side, those soft, perfect tits, her thighs still trembling.
Tasha licked her lips, grinning against his neck. “Let me guide you in,” she whispered. “You’ll love how tight he is. How much he moans. He wants it so badly.”
Makoa hadn’t said a word. But when Marcus looked over, the man’s eyes were locked on him. Wide. Wanting.
Waiting.
Tasha squeezed the base of his cock. Leilani kissed his shoulder.
“Come on,” Tasha whispered. “Use him.”
Marcus swallowed hard.
And nodded.
“Alright,” he said, voice low and rough. “Let’s fucking do it.” “I’ll fuck him,” Marcus growled, his voice rough with lust, “but I’m not getting fucked.”
Tasha squealed. Like he’d just bought her a puppy. “Yes, baby, fuck yes!” she gasped, already halfway across the room, robe flaring behind her as she bolted toward the bedroom for supplies. “Stay right there, I’ll get the lube!”
Marcus stood there, bare-chested, cock throbbing and slick with anticipation. He still couldn’t believe what he’d just agreed to. But the hunger in the room, the way Makoa looked at him, the way Tasha glowed with approval, it lit something in him.
Then Leilani dropped to her knees in front of him like it was instinct.
“You’re going to need to be very lubricated for this,” she said, licking her lips. “Let me help.”
Before he could even reply, her mouth was on him, warm, wet, hungry. She took him deep immediately, her throat relaxing like she’d missed him already, moaning around his shaft as her hands cupped his balls.
Marcus groaned. “Fuck… you’re good at that.”
Her eyes flicked up and sparkled. She sucked harder. Marcus watched this utterly unreal sight as Leilani sucked his cock, preparing it so he could fuck her husband.
Tasha returned seconds later with a bottle of lube and a small towel, panting, eyes bright with wicked glee. She paused only briefly to take in the sight of her husband’s cock buried in another woman’s mouth, her own lips parting in raw admiration.
“God, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever walked in on,” she breathed.
She turned to Makoa.
“Alright, Makoa,” she cooed, patting the arm of the sofa. “Bend over for me.”
Makoa obeyed, no hesitation now. He climbed up and leaned over the armrest, his arse high and exposed, cheeks tense and glistening with sweat. His cock hung half-hard, bouncing slightly as he shifted his stance.
Tasha knelt behind him, trailing her fingers over his skin like she was inspecting fresh fruit. “You’re going to love this,” she whispered. “Marcus is thick. It’ll stretch you. Burn. But then it’ll feel incredible.”
She cracked open the lube and squeezed a generous amount into her palm, the slick noise echoing in the quiet room. Then she reached between his cheeks and slowly began working him open, fingers gentle but firm, massaging the cold lube into his tight ring.
Makoa moaned, face pressed against the back of the sofa, his breath hot and ragged.
Leilani never stopped. She was bobbing her head now, taking Marcus deeper with each stroke, the base of his cock slick and shining. Her spit mixed with his precum, strings of saliva stretching from her lips to his shaft each time she pulled off.
Marcus looked down at her, one hand sliding into her hair.
“Fuck, you’re insatiable.”
She looked up, eyes half-lidded, and popped his cock from her mouth with a grin.
“You’ve got the best cock I’ve ever had,” she whispered. “My husband deserves to feel it too.”
Tasha looked over her shoulder.
“He’s ready.”
Marcus’s pulse thundered.
And he stepped forward.
He should’ve said no.
That thought flashed through Marcus’s head as he stood behind Makoa, cock hard and slick, staring down at the Polynesian man’s arse, spread, glistening, open. Ready.
Tasha was kneeling just off to the side, stroking lube over Makoa’s entrance, gently easing her fingers out. Leilani knelt beside her. She was practically squirming, one hand between her thighs, the other resting on Tasha’s knee.
Marcus’s heart thudded in his chest. He wasn’t nervous, not exactly. He didn’t fear what was about to happen. But there was tension in him, heavy and taut. A line he’d never crossed.
He looked down at his cock, thick, hard, slick with spit and arousal. Then at Makoa, bent over, arse up, his puckered hole glisting with lube, waiting.
He could still walk away.
But he didn’t.
Before he could let himself think any further, Marcus stepped forward, grabbed Makoa’s hips in his large hands, and lined up.
The tip of his cock pressed against the tight ring of muscle. So fucking tight.
He paused.
Makoa’s voice was a soft, shaky whisper. “Do it.”
So Marcus pushed.
Slowly. Carefully. Inch by inch.
The head popped in first, resisted for a moment, then slid past with a sudan give.
Makoa groaned. Loud. Deep. His whole body shuddered.
“Fucking hell,” he hissed. “You’re massive.”
Marcus clenched his jaw, holding himself still. The tightness was insane, like being sucked into a vice. It took everything he had not to buck his hips and bottom out on instinct.
Tasha moaned from the sidelines. “God, look at that stretch!”
Leilani was moaning softly beside her now, openly rubbing herself, hips twitching as she watched.
Marcus let out a slow breath and began to push in again. Inch by inch. Feeling Makoa’s body tremble under his grip. Every clench, every breath, every subtle shift made his cock twitch.
Halfway in.
Then deeper.
He was in.
All the way.
Makoa’s head dropped onto the back of the sofa. “Jesus! fuck!”
“You okay?” Marcus asked, voice lower than he expected.
Makoa nodded. “It’s a lot, but don’t stop.”
So Marcus didn’t.
He started to move. Slowly at first, rocking his hips, letting Makoa adjust. His hands held firm at Makoa’s waist, thumbs stroking his skin. With each thrust, the resistance softened, Makoa’s arse relaxing around him, accepting him.
The room was silent except for breath, wet sounds, and the soft whimpers from the watching women.
Tasha shifted closer, eyes locked on where Marcus’s cock disappeared into Makoa’s arse. “That’s so fucking hot,” she whispered. So Marcus started fucking him harder.
Still slow, still measured, but with weight behind it. Every stroke pulled a low grunt from Makoa’s throat. His body rocked forward into the sofa with every push.
Tasha reached up, fingers curling around Marcus’s shoulder, “Look how much he loves it.”
And he did.
Marcus could feel it in Makoa’s body, the way he pushed back now, greedy for each thrust. The way his breathing changed. The way his arse clenched around Marcus’s cock like it didn’t want him to leave.
And he had to admitt it felt fucking good.
