Stefan stood in front of the full-length mirror in his cramped bathroom, shirt clinging to his chest, sweat from his evening workout still trickling down his arms. His gym tank had ridden up a bit, exposing lines of his lower abs and the V-shape that always got attention when he wore anything remotely fitted.
He rubbed his palm down the side of his neck, eyes drifting to the steam-fogged mirror. His phone buzzed again from the edge of the sink.
Snapchat.
From Jovana.
He froze.
That name hadn't popped up in 3 months.
His stomach gave a weird little twist. Not quite panic, not quite excitement something between a gut punch and nostalgia. She had left Belgrade for a job in Germany three months ago. Bold move. She was always chasing bigger, louder things more people, more options, more life. Stefan hadn't blamed her. But when she suggested they try long distance, he didn't even pretend to be interested.
He was too physical for that. He needed touch. Needed thighs around his hips and a mouth moaning against his neck. Not jerky video calls and voice notes at midnight. He wanted her in his bed, not her face frozen on screen.
Still, he'd thought about her more than he cared to admit.
He wiped his hands on the towel and checked the notification.
The Snap opened to a black screen, with one word written across it:
"Missed you."
Just that. No emoji. No extra punctuation. Short. Mysterious. Straight to the center of his chest.
He stared at it longer than he should have.
Then replied:
"Didn't expect to hear from you."
A moment passed.
Buzz.
Black screen, new text:
"Bet you still think about me when you're hard."
That crooked smile crept onto his lips. It was so her. Teasing, blunt, sexy like it was casual.
"You sending me a memory or an invitation?"
"Maybe both."
The next Snap caught him off guard. Not new at least, not obviously. A shot of her waist in black lace panties, face cropped out, lying on what looked like her old bedsheets. He couldn't be sure if he'd seen it before, but it felt... familiar.
His heart beat a little faster.
She followed it with a text:
"Do i still make that big dick hard?"
His dick twitched instantly. His sweats suddenly felt tighter.
"Why don't you find out?"
From there, the old rhythm returned like slipping back into a bad habit he'd secretly missed. The messages were flirty, a little dirty, but always just enough to pull him deeper.
"I used to stare at it when you slept. Big thing just lying there, half-hard, like it was daring me."
He laughed, ran a hand down the front of his joggers.
"Could barely keep it in your throat."
"I dream about how you stretched my jaw."
Then came the Snaps again black screens, always black, with her words in white text:
"I bet it's hard now."
"Send me a pic. Just the tip."
"Show me that fat shaft."
He obliged. No hesitation.
Snap: his cock outlined through thin grey boxer briefs, thick and rising.
Snap: waistband lowered, the head exposed already glossy.
Snap: gripped in his hand, slow stroke.
"Fuck," she wrote. "Still so fucking beautiful."
His ego drank it in. She always had made him feel stimulated for sex. The way she used to beg for it, suck it like it was air. He'd missed that.
Then she sent something new.
A link to a porn clip.
Short, grainy. A woman deepthroating a thick cock, drooling, moaning loud.
"Watched this last night," she wrote. "Thought of you the whole time."
His cock throbbed.
"You always loved throatfucking," he replied.
"Still do. But none of them hit as deep as you."
More Snaps followed.
One was a still from a blowjob scene saliva running down a girl's chin, balls pressed tight against her face.
"I remember doing this in the car that night on Zeleni Venac," she wrote. "You nearly crashed."
He chuckled, slow stroking now.
Then another.
"This made me cum last week."
A short video of a guy standing while a girl licked his balls, her eyes locked up at him, hands behind her back.
"Used to love doing that to you when you were half asleep."
That one hit hard. He remembered that clearly. Waking up to her warm mouth on his cock, tongue under his balls, her fingers barely grazing his thighs. She loved sneaking head in when he least expected it.
He typed back:
"You used to get off on it. Like you needed it."
"I did. I still do. Show me what I'm missing."
Another Snap. Again: just text.
"Pull your balls up. Let me see them when you stroke."
He blinked. That was new. Specific. Different.
"Since when are you this bold?"
"Since I've been fantasizing about you for months."
He didn't question it.
He pulled his balls up, took a snap angled from below, dick rigid and heavy, veins thick.
Sent.
The next one came fast:
"God I'd suck you dry right now. On my knees. Let you use my throat until you fill it."
Stefan's breath caught. He stood in the mirror again, cock gripped tight, tip leaking steadily. He stared at himself while she sent another message.
"What if I just showed up? Got on my knees. No questions. Just my mouth around your cock."
"You wouldn't even need to stop jerking. I'd just take over."
Then another porn clip a cumshot across a girl's lips, tongue out, eyes closed.
"Reminded me of that night on your couch. Remember how much I swallowed?"
He sent a voice note. Low groan. "Fuck, baby. You really want it that bad?"
Her reply:
Black screen. Text:
"Desperately."
He didn't like the toxic part but also he enjoyed this new feeling she gave him.
But deep down, something felt... off.
She wasn't this bold before. Jovana liked being slutty, sure but in person. In real space. Online, she was shy. Teasing. Never this aggressive.
No real-time snaps. Just black-screen text, maybe the occasional recycled selfie. And these porn clips too specific and most oral.
Still, the fantasy was too good.
He kept playing into it. Stroking, filming, sending.
She asked for a mirror video next full frontal, naked, hand slowly working his thick cock while he flexed.
He sent it.
She replied:
"You're a fucking dream. I could suck you for hours."
"You wouldn't last five minutes," he wrote back.
Then came the Snap.
Black screen. Text:
"What if I sucked you while your eyes were closed... and you didn't know it was me?"
He paused.
Frowned.
"Weird question."
"Not really. Would it matter? Mouth's a mouth when it's that good."
His cock throbbed again. Against his better judgment.
"You saying you'd sneak it?"
"Only if you didn't stop me. Only if you moaned."
"Sounds like you've thought this through."
"Every night. You jerking off right now?"
"Yeah."
"Close your eyes. Pretend I'm on my knees. Pretend you can feel my lips on your tip. Just my tongue, my throat, my spit all over that fat cock."
He did it.
Closed his eyes. Gripped harder.
His moans filled the room.
Then silence.
No new messages.
No reply.
He stared at the phone for a minute. Cock still wet in his hand, heart thumping, mind spinning. Waited texted her but no reply.
Until something happened later in the week.
But for now, the only thing Stefan knew was this:
He never thought Jovana would message him since the breakup.
He hadn't cum that hard in months while sexting someone let alone Jovana.
He needs to find a new place to rent.
His paycheck is running late.
And the time is running out, he needs to figure something by the end of the week or he will be kicked out and sleep on the street.
Two days later, his phone lit up.
Ivica.
Stefan blinked, thumb hovering over the screen. He hadn't spoken to him since the breakup Jovana's brother had always been cool, if a bit too observant. Smart guy. Sarcastic. Knew how to read people fast. When they'd all hung out, Ivica was the one always tossing little jabs that landed too close to home, the kind that made Stefan laugh and smile.
But this text was simple.
"Hey, you got a shirt here. Jovana said it's yours."
Stefan squinted. An old grey fitted tee? Maybe. He hadn't even remembered it.
"Oh yeah? That was forever ago."
"Yeah. You can come by if you want. I'm home now."
The timing was suspicious, though. He thought he would see Jovana there or something.
Stefan had been in a rough spot lately. Late payments from his freelancing gig, rent overdue, and the place he was staying felt more like a storage unit than a home. He'd been dodging calls from his landlord and browsing listings he couldn't afford. The idea of crashing on someone's couch was starting to sound like an actual solution.
So, after a minute of hesitation, he replied:
"Alright. Be there in 30 minutes or so."
Ivica's apartment was almost aggressively clean. Sleek lines, dark furniture, everything coordinated. Minimalist, yes but it felt curated. Like someone had designed it to look like no one lived there, but lived there intensely.
The smell hit him first. Not cologne more like sandalwood and spice. But there was something underneath it. Something faint.
Familiar.
Jovana's old perfume. Stefan didn't want to admit it, but he could almost hear her voice in the hallway.
Ivica opened the door with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Stefan," he said warmly, stepping aside. "Come in."
