The Swap

**Author's Note:**

The Swap captures Milly and Rick's in a full-sharing experience - a night where fantasy becomes reality, and boundaries get blurred. A story about trust, desire, and the thrill of letting go.

If you love married couple swapping, thigh boots, glossy PVC, and that addictive taste of something forbidden... welcome.

If it's not for you? No hard feelings. Scroll on and find something that is.

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The restaurant was smart without being showy - all moody lighting, dark wood, and waiters in crisp white shirts. The kind of place where the wine list came on heavy parchment and the steak knives had weight.

Milly sat across from Rick, legs elegantly crossed under the table, a glass of Malbec in her hand. She wore a black satin dress with a thigh-high slit and a neckline just low enough to be noticed. Her dark hair framed her face in soft waves, smoky makeup drawing focus to her green eyes.

Rick had chosen well. He always did.

Opposite them, Diane laughed at something Rick had just said, her voice warm and husky. She was a picture of contrast - her jet-black bob sleek and sharp, pale complexion, and deep red lips like a warning flare. She wore a deep crimson wrap dress, glossy and tight, with matching heels that made her legs look long and sleek.

Next to her sat her husband, Tom. He was a big man, older than the others by a decade, maybe more. Broad-shouldered, weathered hands, strong neck, clean-shaven. Not lean, but solid. Thick. The kind of man who didn't fill silences. He'd shaken Rick's hand at the bar like he meant it. Held Milly's eyes a second too long when they were introduced.

Now he drank his whiskey slow, his gaze steady and unreadable. A quiet confidence radiated from him. Nothing polished or pretentious, just solid and real.

They were strangers, technically.

But also not.

Each couple had seen the other in clips, in photos, in short, frantic videos sent back and forth during late-night messages. There had been texts. Fantasies. Polite questions that turned into filthy confessions. All in the name of finding out if it was really possible - this thing they'd been circling for weeks.

And now, they were here.

Rick cleared his throat. "This wine's incredible. Thanks for the recommendation, Diane."

Diane smiled. "A little spice. A long finish. Thought it might suit the mood."

Milly caught the double meaning immediately. The wine was delicious, but the tension between them was far more intoxicating.

Under the table, she felt Rick's hand brush her bare thigh. It lingered.

Tom finally spoke, his voice low, rough, and deliberate.

"You two ever done anything like this before?"

Milly blinked. The question wasn't aggressive, just direct.

Rick chuckled awkwardly. "A little. We're still pretty new to it all though, so I guess we're...."

"Experimenting...?" Diane supplied, swirling her wine.

Milly nodded. "Yeah, that. Finding our way and learning as we go."

There was a short pause. The kind that feels longer than it is. The kind where choices are made.

Tom leaned back slightly in his chair and looked at Milly - not leering, just... seeing her.

"Up for it?" he asked.

And it wasn't a challenge.

Milly felt the heat in her cheeks. She didn't look at Rick. She didn't need to. She knew his cock was already half-hard under the table.

She smiled at Tom.

"Definitely."

***

They left the restaurant just after eleven, the four of them drifting toward the lift as they chatted nonchalantly. About this and that, as though old friends.

The hotel was hushed at night. Carpeted corridors swallowed the sound of heels and boots.

Rick walked with Diane, his hand lightly at the small of her back. Milly followed with Tom, his pace unhurried. Close, but not touching. Not yet.

The lift arrived.

Inside, mirrored walls reflected a group that looked like two well-dressed couples - a double date after dinner, maybe, heading for drinks or sleep or both.

But beneath the surface, desire was starting to pulse.

Tom stood close enough that Milly could smell his aftershave. Something woody, old-school, masculine. He didn't look at her. Didn't have to. She could feel his heat.

The lift doors closed.

The silence was rich.

Diane was the one to break it.

"So," she said softly, "just to be clear.... we're not shy about watching. Or sharing. Whatever you're up for."

Milly's stomach tightened. She caught Rick's eye in the mirror, his gaze locked on hers.

"Good," Rick said, voice low.

Diane reached for Rick's collar, adjusted it like a lover might.

"I've been thinking about this all week," she said.

Tom looked at Milly for the first time since they entered the lift.

"You?"

Milly met his gaze.

"Longer."

***

The room was on the top floor - a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a king bed that invited.

Champagne sat chilling in a bucket by the dresser. Planned.

Milly stood just inside the doorway, taking it all in. Rick came up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her neck.

"You okay?" he asked.

She smiled.

"More than," she replied.

Behind them, Diane slipped off her heels and sauntered toward the bed. She untied the belt of her dress with one hand and let it fall open - red lace underneath, and nothing else.

Tom locked the door with a soft click, then turned to Milly.

"You ready?"

She smiled, eyes glittering. "Almost."

Diane stepped in. "We had a little plan, remember?"

It had come up in the messages they had exchanged. The shared fetish.

PVC. Thigh high boots. The glossy shine and power. They'd swapped pictures, fantasies, outfits. It's how they'd know it was the right match. Common ground.

And both women had come prepared, just in case.

Milly scooped up a small garment bag from the sideboard. Diane already had hers in hand.

"We'll be back," Milly said, voice low.

With that, the women disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind them with a soft, decisive click.

The men poured champagne. Made small talk.

Rick tried to keep his breathing steady. Tom seemed perfectly at ease, a calm like he'd seen everything and nothing much surprised him.

Then the door opened, and both men stopped.

Diane stepped out first. She wore a black PVC catsuit, so new and tight it creaked as she moved. Her breasts pushed high, zip tugged down to dangerous depths. Red patent thigh boots, glossy and cool. Her bob was sleek. Her lips matched the boots.

Then came Milly.

She wore a black PVC mini dress - tight, short, dangerous. Black stiletto thigh boots gleamed with every step. Hair loose. Eyes smoky.

Rick stared like a man who'd forgotten how to breathe. Tom let out a low grunt of approval.

Diane tilted her head playfully.

"Well," she purred. "Shall we?"

***

Tom was already stripped to the waist. His cock was thick and hard, raging with intent.

Diane was on all fours across the king bed, boots creaking as she shifted her hips. Her arse was high in the air, pussy exposed by the catsuit's two-way zip, glistening with lube.

"Come on, big man," she growled. "You've been saving that load all day. Give it to your dirty little whore."

Tom didn't say a word.

He just stepped behind her, gripped her hips hard - the booted thighs framing his cock perfectly, and drove himself into her in one long stroke.

Diane cried out loudly, pressing her face into the sheets.

The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room. Milly and Rick watched from the foot of the bed, breathing harder with every thrust.

Diane reached back, fingering her clit furiously as Tom pounded her from behind.

"Oh fuck yes, that's it - give it to me, come for me. Paint me. Show them what a real man's load looks like."

And then he did.

Tom pulled out, just in time, and let out a feral grunt as his cock exploded in thick, violent spurts. Four long ropes of cum sprayed across Diane's PVC clad arse and her lower back. One shot hit her boot with an audible splat.

"Fuck," Milly whispered. Rick's cock twitched hard in her hand.

Diane laughed, panting. She reached back, smeared his cum with her fingertips, rubbing it down across her pussy lips. She rolled onto her back, spread wide, cunt dripping and sticky.

She looked straight at Rick. "You ready to fuck a real mess, baby?"

Rick didn't answer.

He stepped forward, already harder than he knew possible, and took in the sight of Diane. Her tits out, her pussy drenched, her boots spread wide in invitation.

He knelt between her legs, stroking himself, eyes locked on her.

"She's all yours," Milly murmured behind him.

Diane smirked. "Come and fuck this slut."

Rick pressed the head of his cock to her entrance - already slick with her husband's cum - and sank into her with a loud groan.

He moved slowly at first. Then deeper. Harder.

Behind him, Milly lifted Diane's booted legs, holding her open, exposing everything for him.

"How's she feel?" she whispered in Rick's ear.

He breathed hard. "Amazing," came his hoarse reply.

"Good. Fuck her harder."

And he did.

***

Across the room, Tom sat back and watched the show. His cock, still glistening, began to rise again.

Milly turned to him.

"You've got one hell of a recovery time," she said, climbing into his lap.

Tom didn't smile. He just grunted in a way that said everything without a word, and pulled her mouth to his.

Their kiss was rough. Full of need.

He unzipped her dress, peeled it open, and exposed her tits to the room. Milly gasped as his hands grabbed them and she felt herself soaking again.

She slid off his lap, dropped to her knees, and reached for his cock.

The way she sucked him - slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving his - made his jaw tighten.

He tasted of cum and Diane's sex.

Then he lifted her like she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed.

He laid her down. Spread her thighs.

Slid two thick fingers into her and massaged her G-spot until her eyes rolled back in her head and she came hard, squirting onto his hand with a cry.

"Fuck yes," he muttered. "That's what I like."

"Fuck me," Milly panted. "Give it to me."

Tom pushed into her with a long, deep stroke - stretching her wide, filling her. Milly moaned like a woman in heaven.

She looked over at Rick, who was now flat on his back, Diane riding him hard, her tits bouncing.

"I want a taste," Diane growled. "Bring that pussy over here."

Milly climbed off Tom, and stood astride Rick's chest facing towards Diane.

Diane leaned in and licked her pussy with long, slow strokes, circling her clit like an expert.

Rick looked up and saw his wife being devoured while he fucked another woman, and it pushed him to the edge.

***

Tom took his place behind Diane again, pressing his cock into her arse this time.

She gasped as he entered her, full now, stuffed tight with both men.

"I'm such a filthy slut," she moaned. "Take me. Fill me."

And they did.

One in her pussy, one in her arse.

Rick and Tom found a rhythm. And Diane came - screaming and shaking, hands buried between Milly's legs as she made her cum too.

After, Diane flopped beside Rick, slick with sweat and cum.

"Finish off on me," she whispered.

Tom and Rick knelt either side of her, jerking their cocks over her body. Milly reached around Rick, stroking him, whispering in his ear.

Tom came first - thick, slow ropes landing on her PVC and boots.

Rick followed soon after, his load splashing across her tits, her face, her open mouth.

Milly didn't hesitate.

She licked Diane's boot.

Licked her face.

Kissed her, filthy and full of cum.

"We have to do this again," she whispered.