The DM Slide

NB: This is a true story, but that doesn’t mean we invite similar messages from other people we don’t know. It turns out there really is a delicious exception to almost every rule, and this just happens to be it…

It’s a regular Saturday lunchtime. I’m pottering in the kitchen; Liv’s curled up on the sofa, scrolling through Twitter with Martha playing at her feet.

“Ooh, I just got an interesting DM.”

“Yeah? What does it say?”

“Sorry, we got an interesting DM. It was sent to you too…”

I reach for my phone. Read in silence. Ok, that’s 100% the word for it: interesting.

As DM slides go, it’s also an admirably bold one. Neither of us knows the sender, though we’ve both had public interactions with her and she seems nice enough – just not nice in a “message a couple she’s never met about her filthy sex dream” way. While she’s clearly no prude, she inhabits a less overtly kinky Twitter neighbourhood – which, yes, makes the whole thing even more intriguing. So we reply.

It’s a hot scenario. Liv doesn’t have much direct interest in playing with other women, but the cock-sharing element? Watching me fuck someone else? We can both get on board with that, especially when it’s described so vividly. I look over at Liv and I can tell by her face that she’s enjoying this stranger’s enthusiasm; the candour and lack of front with which she shares her dream. I think back to bits and pieces I remember from her timeline. Things she’s said about sex – what she likes, what she’s into. Try to work out what kind of play partner she’d be? An adventurous one, it seems.

Of course the urge to ask more questions is hard to resist. Where did this all come from? Had she been thinking about us already? Has she fucked in a gym before? Does she have a thing for sex with couples?

Liv and I swap places. I make myself comfortable on the sofa and she gets the baby’s lunch ready. We cling firmly to our phones.

We dance towards the topic of sex and away again, like waves rushing up a beach only to melt back into the sea. There’s something happening here, but we don’t know what, and it’s not clear our chat buddy does either. The entire conversation feels utterly authentic; like it’s unfolding organically, without any pre-planning or intent on her part. I look again at the handful of photos she’s put on Twitter, and imagine watching her with Liv. Think about the two of them kneeling in front of me. Wonder how her tits would feel in my hands.

Liv comes over to the sofa and sits next to me. I rest one hand on her leg and tap away at my phone with the other. Casually mention what’s going through my head. Glance down at the DM chat as it loads new messages. Ah yes. I don’t think I’m alone on that one.

I get up and walk through to our bedroom. Strip off and head back. Liv looks up and grins as I perform an exaggerated twirl and wander down the corridor again. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and if I wasn’t horny before, I am now. It feels fresh and summery, and I’m suddenly aware of how badly I want her skin against mine; how much I want to kiss her; to feel her breathing change against my lips as she slides down onto my cock.

In bed, I re-read the details of our new friend’s dream, my cock slowly getting harder in my hand. I smear spit onto my palm and curl it round the shaft, pumping lazily. I can hear Liv carrying Martha through to her bedroom, and the sound makes me squirm against the mattress. Anticipation: there’s nothing quite like it.

I say nothing when she appears in the doorway. Instead, I twist slightly and offer my cock up towards her. She smiles and bends down. Takes the head in her mouth. “Clothes,” I say, and she stops immediately. As she’s getting undressed, I swipe open my phone and fire off another DM. Wait for the reply. I don’t wait long.

Liv scrambles up onto the bed and resumes sucking. She knows all the right rhythms – in fairness, she’s had a lot of practice – and within a couple of minutes I’m thrusting my hips up into her mouth. Too much, slow down. I pull her up to kiss me, and as she lets my cock fall heavily onto my belly, I see how shiny it is. How thoroughly she’s coated it in saliva.

She straddles my thighs and sinks all the way down, till my full length is inside her. There’s just the right amount of resistance – she’s wet, but I can feel my cock really pushing inside her cunt. She moans against my shoulder as I dig my fingers into her hair and tug. I nip at her ear and words pour out of me, wild and only semi-coherent. Another woman’s hands fanning out across Liv’s ass. Tits pressed against her back as she rides me. Fingers squeezing around the base of my cock.

Our phones vibrate, one after the other. Liv grabs hers, while I stretch a hand up behind me and fumble for her Zumio on the shelf above our bed. As she reads, I switch it on and graze the tip over her clit. “Don’t come,” I whisper.

We look up at the same time and catch sight of each other again. There’s a big grin plastered over Liv’s face, and I can feel the corners of my own mouth quirking up as well. This is so wonderfully, unexpectedly new – a real treat that neither of us saw coming. A total stranger barrelling into our lives in just the right way, but almost more importantly at just the right moment. A sleepy Saturday. The first extended period in our relationship in which we’ve largely had to forego exciting sexual adventures.

Trying something for the first time normally involves a level of discussion and planning that currently sits outside any bandwidth we’ve subconsciously allocated for kink (or even basic intimacy) – this glorious spontaneity is exactly what we needed.

I put my hands on Liv’s waist and jerk up into her with as much force as I can summon. Her fingers dance over her iPhone keypad, then she tosses it aside and throws back her head, arms tensing and clutching at the air. I ask our cyber partner the question I know Liv wants her to answer, and press the Zumio more firmly against her clit as I wait for the response.

Predictably it takes almost no time at all: when Liv finally takes off the brakes and allows herself to come, very little can stop her. She rubs her face against my chest and I hold her tight against me, trying to focus on the way her cunt flutters and clenches around my cock.

After a second to catch our breath, we switch positions. I kneel behind her, my thighs either side of her ass. I think about our mystery partner; wonder what she really looks like, once the fuzzy outlines and silhouettes on her Twitter profile have been filled in with living, breathing, 3D features. I imagine her now, wanking with us, her fingers a blur as she builds her own mental picture of everything we’re doing together.

The hotness of it all is almost too much, especially when Liv pushes back onto me and moans. I flick my eyes down to my phone screen. It’s like she really is here watching us – and I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.

The jizz pools in Liv’s cleavage and across her tits. I drag my cock through it, till a fine sheen coats her skin. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I collapse onto the bed and pull Liv into a tight hug. We’re both a bit giddy – what a ridiculously enjoyable half hour! If you’d asked me beforehand whether it was possible to sext someone else while you’re fucking without it getting in the way – or reducing the intensity/intimacy between you – I’d have had my doubts. Of course I should’ve learned by now: when it comes to sex, there’s really no limit to human creativity, and to our ability to find/sustain a connection.

But there’s one more thing we need to take care of. One person who hasn’t come yet. And we’re invested now! It’s not just basic courtesy: we both really want her to get off too. More than that even, we want to get her off.

Less than a minute later, a tell-tale sound crackles out of the baby monitor. Our playtime lasted just long enough…

Our goodbyes are open-ended. It’s barely 90 minutes since she slid into our DMs, but we all know that this won’t be the last time we chat. Will it progress beyond that? No, I don’t think so – too many barriers, both practical and more elusive in nature. But that’s fine. Not everything has to be a thing. A cyber threesome is more group sex than we’ve had together for a while, and at this stage in our lives it may be about as far as we can realistically hope to take this kind of play. Or it might not.

Either way, I find myself looking out for her on Twitter over the next few days. There’s something unavoidably conspiratorial about kinky sex – virtual or otherwise – with someone few people would imagine dipping a toe in that kind of water. It sits in the background of our lives as a warm, happy little secret, to be turned over and examined in our hands during idle moments.

10 days later, I wake up and check my phone. The new message icon makes my cock twitch before I’ve even opened it. Ok, yeah. Work can wait. We might be here a while…