Luke and I were the “gym couple” long before we were actually a couple. It took three years of stolen glances over dumbbells before he finally found the nerve to speak to me. Once we finally clicked, everything moved fast. Six months after making it official, I was moving into his apartment, blending our lives and our shared appetites.
Our chemistry was intense. We were the type to leave a party early just to get our hands on each other. We’d turned his car, various rooms of the house, and even quiet corners of the woods into our own private playgrounds. He’d even pull up to JD Sports during my shifts, whisking me away for a frantic, breathless break in the backseat. He was adventurous, introducing me to toys and eventually turning my skepticism about anal play into a regular, heated part of our routine.
The shift happened about six months after I moved in.
I’d been on my period that weekend, creating a rare, frustrating lull in our physical connection. We’d come home late from a night out with friends, and instead of our usual tangled mess of sheets, we’d collapsed into bed to fall asleep to the blue light of a Netflix series.
I woke up in the dead of night, the room heavy with silence. I reached under my pillow for my phone to check the time, but my hand met empty fabric. Squinting through the dark, I saw the silhouette of Luke’s back turned toward me, his side of the bed illuminated by a sharp, electronic glow.
Then I saw the rhythmic movement of his shoulder. He was quiet, but the intent was unmistakable.
A playful smirk started to form—I wondered what kind of porn had him so occupied at 3:00 AM. But the smirk vanished when I realized he wasn’t holding his own phone. He had mine.
I leaned over his shoulder, my heart starting to hammer against my ribs. My stomach did a slow, sick flip. He wasn’t watching a video; he was scrolling through an old WhatsApp thread from a guy I’d seen briefly when Luke and I first started dating.
He was staring at photos of me—old, intimate photos I’d forgotten were even there. Photos of me completely exposed, meant for eyes that weren’t his.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
He jolted so violently he nearly sent the phone flying, his secret—and his hand—caught in the act.
“I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’ve never looked at your phone before, I swear. I just… I couldn’t sleep, and I was so restless. My phone died, and I was only going to use yours to scroll the web, but I couldn’t stop myself. I ended up in your WhatsApp.”
I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist.
“Okay… but why go through my messages?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes avoiding mine in the dim light. “I just got curious. Then I saw that old thread, and I couldn’t look away. There are pictures of you in there I’ve never seen before.”
I felt a flush of heat that wasn’t exactly anger. “But I’ve sent you plenty of photos, Luke. You have them all on your own phone.”
“I know,” he whispered, finally meeting my gaze. His voice dropped an octave. “But these weren’t meant for me. Seeing you like that with someone else… it showed me a side of you I didn’t know. I don’t know why, but seeing you through another man’s eyes… it really turned me on.”
A silence settled over the room, heavy and expectant. “Isn’t that a little strange?” I asked, my heart skipping. “Why would that turn you on?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed, the honesty raw in his voice. “It just did.”
“So, you like the idea of me being intimate with someone else?”
He paused, the shadow of a smirk, or perhaps a confession, crossing his face. “Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is how it made me feel.” He looked down at his lap, the bravado fading into a flush of red. “Now I just feel incredibly embarrassed.”
I reached out, softening. The shock was still there, but so was a new, buzzing energy between us. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Luke. It’s just… a lot to take in at three in the morning.”
He handed the phone back to me like it was a live wire. I told him it was okay, that I forgave him, and we settled back into the pillows. But as we drifted back toward sleep, the air in the room felt different.
For two weeks, we didn’t speak of it. Life returned to its usual rhythm—gym, work, sleep—but the memory of that night stayed tucked away like a hidden tab in my mind.
It wasn’t until a quiet Tuesday night, lying tangled together after sex, that the silence finally broke. My head was resting on his chest, the room hazy and relaxed, when I felt his heart rate pick up just a fraction.
“Can we look at them again?” Luke asked, his voice low.
I lifted my head, propping myself up on my elbows to catch his eye. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his gaze steady. “I’d like to see them.”
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Okay then.”
I pulled my phone from the nightstand, but this time, I stayed in control of the screen. As we began to swipe through the old thread, a part of me wondered why I’d never deleted them—but seeing the hunger in Luke’s eyes, I was almost glad I hadn’t.
“I love how you look in that one,” he murmured, pointing to a shot of me draped over a chair.
“You’ve seen me naked a thousand times, Luke,” I teased.
“I know. But this is… different.”
He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing the line of my hip through the sheets. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Come on, Luke. You know I did. You must have read the messages between the photos.”
“I did,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “How long was it for?”
“A couple of months, maybe.”
“The day you sent that one…” he pointed to a particularly suggestive photo, “we’d been to Alton Towers the weekend before.”
A flicker of guilt touched my stomach, a brief flash of worry that this was a trap. “Okay, yes, we did. But we weren’t exclusive back then. I’m sure you were seeing plenty of girls while we were just talking?”
“I wasn’t, actually,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me with judgment. He was looking at the phone.
“But it doesn’t matter. I’m not mad. I don’t know why, but I find it really hot.”
“Really?” I laughed, a nervous, excited sound.
“Was he good in bed?”
“Luke!”
“I’m just asking.”
“He was… okay. Yeah.”
Then came the question I knew was lurking beneath the surface. “How big was he?”
“Normal-sized,” I answered quickly.
“The same as me?”
“Pretty much. It was a long time ago, Luke.”
The room went silent, the only sound the distant hum of the fridge. The air felt heavy, charged with a new kind of electricity.
“Did you do anal with him?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“No. You know I didn’t like it back then. That was our thing.”
“Yeah, I know. Just wondered.” He shifted closer, his hand finding the small of my back. “Did you swallow for him?”
I turned to look at him, half-shocked, half-intrigued.
“Luke! Honestly?”
“Did you?”
“I might have… once or twice,” I admitted.
He let out a long breath, a dark glint in his eyes. “I don’t know why, but that’s so hot.”
I couldn’t help but laugh; the absurdity of the conversation was as intoxicating as the honesty.
“This is such a weird conversation.”
“How many guys have you swallowed for?”
I looked at him, smiling, feeling a strange sense of liberation in the confession. “My God, Luke… I don’t know. Five or six? Something like that.”
The room went quiet after I admitted the number.
Luke didn’t respond immediately, and the silence started to feel heavy.
“What? Does that make me a slut now or something?” I asked, my voice a little sharp, a little defensive. After all, he was the one digging for answers.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just think it’s hot that you’ve always been so confident in the bedroom.”
“Well, we all have pasts,” I shrugged, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah, I know,” he murmured. Then, just like that, he changed the subject. I lay there for a long time afterward, staring at the ceiling and wondering if this was truly a turn-on for him or if there was some other motive I hadn’t figured out yet.
The answer came the following Wednesday. We’d been out for dinner and came home to finish a bottle of wine. We had a movie on, but it was just background noise; before long, his hands were busy, pulling down my pajama bottoms and focusing entirely on me until I orgasmed. I returned the favor, and eventually, we settled back into our rhythm—me with my head in his lap, both of us pretending to watch the screen.
Then, out of nowhere, he dropped the question.
“Have you ever had a threesome?”
I tilted my head back to look up at him, caught off guard. “No. Have you?”
“I haven’t, no,” he said, his fingers idly playing with my hair. “Would you ever want to try one?”
My mind went straight to the usual suspect. “What, with another girl? Is this what this has all been about?”
“No, not at all,” he clarified quickly. “Me, you, and another guy.”
I sat up slightly, searching his face. “Is that something you would actually want to try?”
“I’d be up for it, if you wanted to,” he said, watching my reaction closely.
“You actually want to see me have sex with another man?”
“Yeah, I think so. If it’s something you’d want to try,” he responded, his voice steady.
“I don’t know,” I said, the wine making me feel bold but cautious. “Wouldn’t you feel weird watching me with someone else?”
“No, I don’t think I would. Not as a one-off thing for us to try together.”
“Are you sure?” I pressed. “You’re sure you wouldn’t get super jealous and have the whole thing explode into a nightmare?”
“No, not at all. As long as you were enjoying it.”
I looked at him, my heart starting to race for a completely different reason. “Really?”
That was the moment the suspicion finally evaporated, replaced by a sharp, flickering curiosity. It felt naughty, sitting there in my pajamas, talking about things I’d never dared to voice.
“Who would we even do it with?” I asked, my mind already racing through the ‘what ifs.’ “I’m not having one of your friends over. I don’t need it becoming common knowledge that we had a threesome.”
“No, I wouldn’t want that either,” he agreed. “We’d have to find someone random.”
“What, like stopping someone at a bar?” I giggled, the wine making the idea seem absurd. “‘Hi, would you like to have a threesome with us?'”
“That would be weird,” he said, laughing with me. “It would probably have to be someone online.”
“Online? What do you mean?”
“Like a male escort or something.”
I paused, looking at him. “Is that even a thing in the UK?”
“Yeah. People do that everywhere.”
“So, we just… pick a stranger to come over and fuck me?” I asked, the bluntness of the thought sending a shiver through me.
“Yeah, pretty much. You could pick whoever you fancied.”
“This is so weird,” I laughed, but I didn’t look away.
“You could pick someone with a massive dick,” he said, his voice dropping slightly.
“Luke!” I giggled, playfully shoving his shoulder.
“What? You could. I think that would be hot.”
“And that wouldn’t bother you?” I asked, searching his eyes for even a hint of the jealousy I knew he was capable of.
“No, not really. He won’t be taking you with him when he leaves.”
I shook my head, my heart thumping. “This is so weird.”
“What’s the biggest dick you’ve ever had?” he asked suddenly.
“Do you honestly want me to answer that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I don’t know, Luke. I’ve never exactly pulled out a tape measure.”
“I know, but surely they would have told you,” he pressed. “Guys love to brag about that stuff.”
I bit my lip, thinking back. “I used to date a guy who told me his was eight inches.”
“Was it big?”
“Yeah… it was pretty big.”
“Was it good?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice trailing off. “Sometimes.”
“Exactly,” he said, a dark, excited glint in his eyes. “We could find someone with a big one just for you.”
“What would it even be like?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Would you want me to suck his dick?”
“Yeah. Definitely. Seeing you do that? It would be crazy.”
I looked at him, a playful, daring smile tugging at my lips. “Not as crazy as it would feel doing it while you watched me.”
“Doesn’t the thought turn you on, even a little?” he pressed.
“I don’t know…” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure what to say. The truth was, I was getting into it, but a small part of me was still braced for this to be some elaborate test of my loyalty.
“You’d have to want to do it for yourself,” Luke said, his tone turning serious for a moment. “I wouldn’t want you doing it just for me. Think of it as a one-off—a chance for you to have someone else, just this once, with my blessing.”
“Would you then expect me to let you sleep with another girl?” I asked, my suspicion resurfacing.
“No, that’s not what this is about,” he insisted. “And I don’t want anyone else. I’d just like to try this one time, I think.”
I looked at him, trying to read the truth in his eyes. “Where has this even come from, Luke? How long have you felt like this?”
He took a breath, looking almost vulnerable for a second. “Honestly? Just since I saw that chat with that guy on your phone. It started something in me that I can’t get past. Seeing those nudes you sent him… it just made me think of you with someone else. Now, I can’t get it out of my mind. It just really turns me on.”
The honesty of it caught me off guard. It wasn’t a long-held secret; it was a spark that had been lit the moment he saw my past.
“So you would join in?” I asked, my voice softening as the curiosity took back over. “Or do you just want to watch?”
“I don’t know. I suppose the main part of it is just the fantasy of seeing you with someone else. If you were happy to try it,” he said, a slow, hungry smile spreading across his face. “I’d get to see that sexy body and those skills of yours from every possible angle.”
I laughed, the absurdity and the heat of the moment finally colliding. “If we do this, Luke, I’m only ever doing it once. Understand?”
“I agree,” he said quickly. “I just think it would be… fun.”
“What, me jumping up and down on a big dick?”
“Exactly,” he rasped.
We both laughed, but the air between us was vibrating. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this,” I whispered.
“You’ll love it,” he promised.
“We’ll see,” I smirked
With that, I found myself pinned back against the sofa. He didn’t wait; he was already moving, his head dipping between my legs as he went down on me for the second time that night. My head was a weird whirl—half-shocked by the conversation we’d just had, and half-obsessed with the images he’d just put in my mind.