Truth or DM

Introduction:

They weren't best friends.

Just classmates. Neighbors.

A floor apart. A few late night messages away from crossing every line.

It started with a dare.

A horny little app.

A "truth or DM" challenge no one took seriously until she sent the first video with his name on her lips.

Now, Stefan can't sleep without hearing her moan through his headphones.

And Anita? She can't stop imagining his cock in her mouth every time she bites her lip in class.

They swore it was just flirting.

Just curiosity.

But when kinks turn into confessions, and condoms start breaking from how hard she begs for more.

It's no longer a game.

It's an obsession.

And the only rule left is this: don't stop.

************************************************************************************************

Four months from graduation, the halls of their Belgrade high school buzzed with the familiar chaos of spring class rankings, whispered university acceptances, rumors of hook ups in supply closets, and the fast approaching final exams that no one was really ready for.

Stefan, eighteen and always a little too calm for the frantic energy around him, leaned against the window during break, earbuds in, hood up. He didn't speak much in class unless he had something worth saying. His friends liked him for his dry humor, easygoing demeanor, and the fact that he never started drama but he always seemed to know when it was happening.

Anita, on the other hand, was the opposite kind of quiet.

She had a way of sliding into rooms like she already owned them sharp eyes, sharper tongue, and a don't fuck with me stride in boots that clacked against the old hallway tiles like punctuation. People talked about her about how she'd once made a teacher stutter in front of a full classroom, how she posted cryptic selfies at 2 a. m. with no caption, how she always seemed to be flirting with someone but never dating anyone.

They weren't friends. Not really.

But they were neighbors one floor apart in the same residential building on the outskirts of the city. Anita lived in 6B, directly above Stefan in 5B. Their windows even overlooked the same narrow courtyard. They'd exchanged hellos in the elevator, worked on a group project once in junior year. Sometimes they shared a walk home after late lessons, talking shit about teachers or exchanging sarcastic commentary about the people around them. There was something there, sure some slow burning, low level curiosity they never bothered to name.

But it wasn't anything.

Until it was.

It started on a Thursday night.

Rain tapped lightly on the windows, and Stefan was lying in bed, scrolling through "Truth or DM" the app he'd downloaded the week before after a classmate showed him a screenshot of a girl's bare tits labeled "Dare accepted."

The premise was simple: randomized private matches, escalating truths or dares, and total anonymity... at least until someone decided to break the rules and reveal themselves. It was slutty. Dangerous. Kinda stupid. But entertaining as hell when you were high, bored, and horny at midnight.

He'd gotten a new match twenty minutes ago. The dare was harmless enough:

"Send them a fantasy GIF. Something you've always wanted to try."

Stefan didn't hesitate. He scrolled through his saved folder a carefully curated gallery of slow burn porn GIFs, none of that jump cut, overly loud stuff. He picked the one of a girl kneeling between a guy's legs, spit glistening on her tongue as she stroked him slow and messy, eyes up, lips parted in anticipation.

Sexy, sure. But not crude.

Intimate. A little intense. But it was Stefan's kind of intense.

He hit send.

Except... he didn't send it through the app.

His fingers, lazy from weed and poor muscle memory, had flicked open Instagram, where Anita's chat happened to be pinned near the top probably from that one time she'd shared a homework meme.

He realized his mistake three seconds too late.

Sent to: Anita

One porn GIF. Uncaptioned. Explicit. Direct.

"F fuck."

He shot upright in bed, heart pounding. He opened her profile no green dot. Maybe she wouldn't see it. Maybe he could delete it fast enough. Maybe

"Seen."

His pulse spiked.

Nothing for a full sixty seconds. Then:

Anita:... wow. Guess you're bolder online, huh?

Anita: Or just high and horny? Be honest.

Stefan blinked. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She didn't block him. She didn't scream. She didn't even seem surprised. Instead... she responded like Anita sharp, amused, unbothered, and maybe even intrigued.

He typed:

Stefan: Wrong window. That wasn't meant for you.

Anita: Should I be offended or relieved? ????

Stefan: Depends. Are you into praise or punishment?

Anita: Oh, is that your thing? Praise kink boy? That explains the "good girl" energy radiating off that gif.

Stefan stared at the screen, shocked at how fast the tension flipped. He licked his lips slowly, heart still thudding but now for a different reason.

Stefan: You watched it?

Anita: Duh. What do you think I'm doing on a Thursday night, studying?

Anita: Also... bold choice. That was more sensual than I expected. A little worship, a little eye contact. You like being looked at,?

Anita: Or just like imagining someone looking up at you while you cum?

His cock twitched.

Jesus.

For the next hour, they traded lines back and forth, like a game of erotic chicken. No pics yet. No names called. Just innuendo disguised as sarcasm.

Anita sent a porn GIF back it was a girl sucking a guy off with way too much enthusiasm, cheeks hollowed, spit dripping from her chin.

Anita: More your vibe? Or should I find one with tears?

Stefan exhaled slowly through his nose, fingers tightening on the sheets.

Stefan: No tears. I like it when she wants it. Craves it.

Anita: Hm. That's actually hot. Unironically.

Stefan: You're not bad at this.

Anita: I'm great at this. You're just discovering it late.

By 1:30 a. m., it wasn't even flirting anymore. It was foreplay.

They hadn't exchanged any nudes. Not yet. But the messages pulsed with raw tension, like they were seconds from slipping over the edge.

Anita: So, that app everyone's talking about Truth or DM? You using it?

Stefan: Yeah. Just matched with someone weirdly good at dirty talk. Think she lives upstairs.

Anita: Dangerous. She probably snoops on you through the window. Might have filmed you jerking off.

Stefan: Joke's on her. I've got great lighting in my room.

Anita: LOL. Lighting and confidence. Watch out world.

There was a pause.

Then she sent it:

A single 10 second voice note.

His thumb hovered over play.

He tapped it.

Her voice came through his speaker low, smooth, slightly husky from weed or lack of sleep.

"If you were in front of me right now, I'd make you sit back. Legs apart. Hands flat. No touching. You'd have to just watch while I got on my knees and took my time with it..."

Stefan swallowed hard. His cock pressed painfully against the waistband of his boxers.

She ended the message with a slow, sultry exhale.

No laughter. No joking tone. Just raw, controlled, wicked command.

And the silence after was deafening.

Stefan: Anita.

Stefan: That's not fair.

Anita: It wasn't a dare. It was a gift. But if you want a dare... open the app. Let's play.

For real this time.

Stefan leaned back, phone glowing against the shadows of his room, hand hovering between his thighs.

He clicked open Truth or DM.

New match request: Anita Ž.

The screen pulsed.

New Dare:

"Send a video of yourself edging to the sound of their voice."

****

It started as a dare.

But it didn't feel like one.

Not when Stefan clicked Accept and saw the instruction:

"Send a video of yourself edging to the sound of their voice."

The app's interface glowed quietly on his screen minimal, discreet, designed for secrets. No usernames. Just prompts. Below the challenge was a "Time limit: 12 hours" marker and a discreet message:

"Both players must complete the dare to unlock the next level."

So this wasn't just his task.

Anita would be doing the same.

To his voice.

The thought hit like a jolt of heat low in his gut.

It was 1:44 a. m. when he recorded the first voice note.

Not for the app this one was for her, direct. Private. Personal.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his phone's mic, trying not to sound like he was trying.

"You want to edge me with your voice?" His tone was quiet, low, amused.

"Fine. Then listen close. Because here's what I'd do if I had you on your knees right now..."

He walked her through it slowly, deliberately. Stefan didn't perform. He spoke. Calm. Measured. Like he already owned her reaction, like he knew what she'd do when she hit play.

By the time he finished, his voice had dropped an octave, and his breath was heavier than he'd meant to let her hear.

He pressed send. Then hit record again this time for the app dare.

He propped his phone against his pillow, pulled his waistband down, and started stroking himself to her voice note.

That 10 seconds had already looped five times. Her breathy exhale. The command. The implication. The fact that she knew exactly what power her voice had.

He moaned low in his throat quiet but raw and whispered her name when he reached the edge.

He stopped. Edged back. Did it again.

It was the not touching line that did it.

He came on the fourth loop. Slower than usual. More intense. He captured every second in low, golden light his hand squeezing the base, cum streaking his abs, the faint hiss of her voice still playing in the background.

It wasn't porn.

It was personal.

He trimmed the clip, sent it through the app, and stared at the glowing screen.

"Awaiting partner's video."

Meanwhile, floor above, Anita sat cross legged on her bed in a faded T shirt and no underwear.

The silence was electric.

She hadn't meant to send the voice note with that much heat. It was supposed to be a tease. A test. A joke, even.

But something about Stefan's reaction how fast he melted into it, how honest he was about coming to her voice had changed the game.

He wasn't trying to impress her.

He was responding to her.

And that made it infinitely hotter.

She pulled her phone off the charger, hit record, and stared at herself in the mirror across her room as she whispered:

"You're not allowed to finish until I say so. Got it?"

Pause.

"Stroke slow. Imagine I'm on top, grinding against you, not letting you inside until you're begging. Keep it right there."

She let her breath hitch for real. One hand slid between her thighs, teasing herself lazily while she held the phone with the other.

"Good boy. Now stop. Don't you fucking dare come without my permission."

Click.

She sent it. Labeled it "Instructions Only."

Then opened the app. Started filming the dare.

Anita didn't do showy.

She did effective.

No makeup. Soft lamplight. A cropped shot shoulders to thighs, nothing above the chin. But her moans... those weren't subtle.

Her voice cracked on the second edge. Her fingers were wet, her thighs trembling, and when she came face still out of frame she whispered his name like it slipped from her without permission.

After she stopped shaking, she checked the clip.

It was filthy.

It was beautiful.

It was real.

She uploaded it with a trembling hand, heart hammering, not sure whether it was from orgasm or the fact that she wanted him to watch it more than she wanted air.

Her phone buzzed twenty seconds later.

Stefan: You sent that to ruin me.

Anita: I just wanted to see how good your lighting really is.

Stefan: You want praise, or a punishment?

Anita: Surprise me. But make it dirty.

The app dinged.

"New Level Unlocked."

Truth: What's a kink you've never told anyone but think they'd love?"

Anita stared at the screen, chewing her lip.

Then typed:

Anita: I like giving jerk off instructions. Countdown style. Telling someone when they're allowed to come. Or when they're not.

Anita: And I think you like following them. A little too much.

Stefan didn't answer right away.

Then finally:

Stefan: Make me beg next time.

Stefan: Just know I'll get even.

****

By Monday, everything had changed.

They hadn't talked face to face since the weekend, but their phones were practically an extension of each other's bodies. Every vibration was a potential voice note. Every notification was another dare, another truth, another line crossed.

But in public, in school, it was like nothing had happened.

Except... it wasn't.

Not when Stefan's eyes found her every time she walked into a room.

Not when Anita paused half a beat longer than necessary whenever she passed him in the hallway.

Not when the air between them buzzed in a way that no one else could feel, but they both knew was there.

The first break between classes was always the most chaotic kids stuffing their bags, racing to lockers, gossip bleeding through every corridor. Stefan stood by the window near the stairwell, hood up, earbuds dangling, trying to look casual while his pulse raced in anticipation.

Because he was waiting.

And right on cue, Anita appeared black leggings, baggy hoodie, messy ponytail, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.

She walked past him like he wasn't there... until she stopped at the top of the stairwell. Half turned. Looked over her shoulder.

"You coming?" she said, barely audible over the crowd.

Stefan pushed off the wall.

They didn't speak again until they were alone on the half floor between levels, in the narrow landing with flickering light above and worn concrete beneath their feet.

He stood against the wall.

She leaned on the railing across from him, arms crossed, eyes narrow.

"You like that video I sent?" she asked, voice too casual.

"You already know I did," he replied, watching her mouth.

Anita uncrossed her arms. Took two slow steps toward him.

"Then why haven't you returned the favor?"

"I did."

"No," she smirked. "You sent a video of you coming. That's different. I mean the other thing."

She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, scrolled with one thumb, then hit play.

Her voice played out loud her voice soft and commanding:

"Stroke slow. Imagine I'm on top..."

Stefan's jaw flexed.

She let the audio roll. Didn't break eye contact.

Didn't flinch as a pair of underclassmen rushed past the stairwell below.

"You like being told what to do?" she said, finally pausing it.

"Only when it's you." His voice was low. Gritty.

She tilted her head.

"Good boy."

Fuck.

His cock stirred instantly fast, automatic, almost painful.

"You're not playing fair," he said.

Anita stepped into his space close now, close enough to smell her shampoo, something sweet with a sharp citrus edge.

"We're not playing at all, Stefan. We're escalating."

Their phones buzzed simultaneously.

Truth or DM New Dare:

"Tease your partner in public. No touching below the waist. No speaking. Just tension."

Anita blinked. Then smiled slowly a wolf's smile.

She tucked her phone into her back pocket.

"Well?" she whispered. "Game on?"

Next class: Serbian literature.

They sat in the same row, two desks apart.

Stefan thought it would be fine. He thought he could handle it.

Until Anita slipped one shoe off under her desk.

Until her bare toes started creeping toward his foot, then his ankle, then his calf brushing slowly, deliberately.

No one noticed.

Except him.

He shifted in his seat, trying not to react. Trying not to let it show that he was already half hard under his jeans, that the slide of her toes up his leg had hijacked his brain.

She didn't look at him once.

Not during class. Not during reading. Not even when she reached into her hoodie and slowly slid her hand down her front, pretending to scratch an itch just above her waistband.

Stefan swallowed hard.

He knew that move. He knew the rhythm. She was teasing him. Knowing he couldn't react. Knowing he'd feel it imagine her fingertips skating over bare skin.

The app buzzed again.

"Bonus Challenge: Send them a picture right now. Something risky. Something you can't explain away."

Anita smirked. Pulled her phone under the desk.

He felt his screen buzz thirty seconds later.

Image attachment: Anita. Hoodie pulled up. Bralette lifted. One perfect breast exposed. Nipple hard. Her tongue peeking out just enough to suggest trouble.

His breath left him in a sharp exhale.

She followed it with a voice note. Just two words, whispered:

"Don't move."

After class, Stefan cornered her outside the restroom near the stairwell.

"You trying to get me suspended?"

"You trying to edge in class?" she shot back.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the shadows of the stairwell before she could laugh again.

Pressed her up against the wall, chest to chest.

"I will take you apart right here," he said into her ear, breath hot.

Anita's smile faltered.

But only for a second.

Then her fingers closed over his hand and guided it lower not all the way, just to the waistband of her leggings.

"Then do it."

"No." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

"Why not?" she whispered, breath catching.

He leaned in close, hand braced beside her head.

"Because I want to make you beg."

Then turned and walked away.

Leaving her standing there panting, flushed, wet, and suddenly desperate to know exactly how much control he was about to take.

****

It had been almost 48 hours since the stairwell.

And neither of them had cracked.

Not in person.

But online?

In private?

They were devouring each other.

Every night.

Phone screens glowing under covers. Breathless voice notes. Video loops. Messages timed too perfectly to be coincidence. There were no more sarcastic emojis. No more pretending this was just flirtation.

It had become a ritual.

At 12:22 a. m., Stefan's phone buzzed. The now familiar hum of Truth or DM pulsed against his chest.

New Challenge Unlocked

"Send them a full clip of how you really come for them. No filters. No edits. Cum on camera. With sound."

He swallowed hard.

It wasn't even a dare anymore. It was an invitation to surrender. To document. To hand over power by letting the other one see it all.

A message followed, from Anita, outside the app:

Anita: If I send mine, you better not mute it this time.

Anita: I want you to hear what you do to me.

Anita: And I want to see how much you want it.

Anita started filming hers first.

The bedroom light was low, golden from her desk lamp, casting soft shadows across her bare thighs. Her laptop had been shut, forgotten. Her phone was balanced against a stack of worn textbooks and a scented candle half burned down intimate, makeshift, like a shrine built for him.

She wore nothing but a black lace bralette, the cups pushed up to barely support her breasts, nipples flushed dark and firm beneath the delicate mesh. Her thong was sheer and crooked on her hips, already damp, the fabric clinging like it wanted to stay part of her but it wouldn't last long.

Her hair was damp from a quick shower, falling messily around her face and shoulders in tangled waves. No makeup. Just flushed cheeks and parted lips, the ghost of a bitten smile at the corner of her mouth. She looked tired and turned on that raw, beautiful chaos of want with nowhere else to go but camera.

She stared directly into the lens.

Didn't speak.

Just breathed.

Then slowly achingly slow she slid her fingers down her belly and between her thighs, pushing the thong aside without ceremony. Her middle and ring fingers found her clit, already slippery, already twitching. The contact made her gasp not exaggerated, not performative. Just real.

Her thighs trembled slightly as she spread them wider. The soft sound of her fingers circling her slick folds was audible in the silence.

She bit her lip. Let it go. Let her breath break. Let her eyelids flutter as her hips started to move just subtly at first, a little roll, then a grind, then a stuttering rhythm that built with every pulse of pleasure.

And when she started to moan...

It wasn't porn star perfect.

It was ragged, intimate, breathy and almost too vulnerable. Like she'd forgotten the camera was there.

"Stefan," she whispered, barely audible.

Her voice caught like she hadn't meant to say it.

Her free hand slid up to her breast, squeezing it through the bralette, fingers twisting her nipple as her hips bucked harder.

The camera caught everything the tension in her thighs, the way her abs fluttered, the way her toes curled against the sheet.

Her face turned just enough to catch the side angle the wet strands of hair stuck to her cheek, the flushed glow across her collarbones, the open mouth that trembled as her orgasm hit her full body.

She came in full view.

Not staged. Not faked. Just completely undone.

Her fingers didn't stop right away. She rubbed through it, gasping, thighs twitching, skin glowing with heat and slick. Her breathing was loud now, uneven, sharp.

"Fuck, Stefan... fuck..."

The words left her lips in a whisper, like they'd slipped out without permission.

Then her hand dropped. She collapsed back onto her pillows, hair fanned out, chest rising and falling like she'd just run from something or toward it.

One beat. Two.

She blinked, recovered just enough to smile faintly at the ceiling satisfied, wrecked, lit up with something wild and sacred.

Then she reached for her phone.

No hesitation.

Anita: Sent.

Anita: Your turn.

Anita: Don't hold back. Show me what I do to you.

Stefan had already stripped down.

No shirt. No boxers. Just the soft, low golden light of his desk lamp slanting across his chest and abs, catching on the sweat beginning to bead at the hollow of his throat. His skin glowed with quiet tension the carved shadows of his ribcage rising and falling, his stomach flexing with every breath.

He shifted onto his bed, body angled toward the camera, and positioned it low just enough to frame his cock, flushed and rock hard against his thigh. The frame also caught the taut arch of his abs, the flex of his thighs, and the tense clench of his jaw as he rolled his shoulders back and braced one hand behind him for balance.

This wasn't performance.

It was surrender.

Before he even touched himself, he tapped her audio clip and let it play.

"You're not allowed to finish until I say so. Got it?"

"Stroke slow. Imagine I'm on top... grinding against you... not letting you inside..."

Her voice poured from the speaker like heat husky, teasing, low in her throat, and just shy of breaking.

He closed his eyes for a second, the sound crawling over his skin like her fingers. Then exhaled through his nose and reached for his cock.

"Fuck."

He stroked slowly, deliberately. One long glide from the base to the tip, his fist tightening on the upstroke. His knuckles whitened. Precum already slicked the head, and every slide made a wet, audible sound that filled the room along with the soft echo of her breath.

His body twitched. He looked down at his cock, veins hard and thick, sliding through his fist in a rhythm made for her.

Then he looked at the phone again her video still playing. Anita, glowing in low light, legs spread, fingers slick, face twisted in orgasm, her lips parted and whispering his name.

That ruined him.

"Anita..."

His voice cracked.

He adjusted the camera lower, widened the angle just a little more. Now the shot caught his entire cock, his abs fluttering, and the slow flex of his arm, every muscle sharp with restraint.

He bit down on his lip.

Hard.

Stroked faster.

His thighs tensed, hips twitching upward toward his own hand, chasing the friction, the sound of her voice looping again and again.

"You want to see how much I want it?" he muttered, breathless.

"This... this is what you fucking do to me."

He let out a groan deep, raw, unguarded as his strokes became erratic. He threw his head back, chest heaving.

And then

He came.

Hard.

Violent, thick ropes erupted across his stomach and chest, one after the other, hot and messy and unstoppable. The first spurt hit his hand. The second streaked across his abs. A third pulsed up toward his collarbone as he grunted low and desperate, teeth bared, hips stuttering.

Still he stroked.

Still he breathed her name.

"Fuck, Anita... fuck, baby..."

His voice was softer now. Reverent. Like he'd been taken apart and wanted to thank her for every ruined second.

The camera never flinched.

It caught the way his body spasmed, the way he exhaled like he'd held his breath the entire time. Cum glistened down his stomach, some of it dripping between his abs, catching the lamplight in slick, glistening trails.

He finally let go of his cock, still twitching, still half hard from the thought of her. His chest rose and fell as he reached for the phone.

He watched the clip back once.

Didn't edit.

Didn't trim.

Didn't flinch at what he looked like undone for her.

He sent the full thing.

No caption.

Just the video.

And the weight of everything it meant.

Five minutes later, her message came:

Anita: You came so hard I felt it through the screen.

Anita: Send me the whole file. No compression. No cuts.

Anita: I want it saved.

Stefan: You're saving it?

Anita: Already looped the cumshot three times.

Stefan: Obsessed?

Anita: With how you look right before you break? Maybe.

Anita: I want you to do it for me again. With my voice playing. Live next time.

App Notification: New Level Unlocked.

Truth: What's the filthiest thing you've masturbated to and who was it really about?

Stefan stared at it, breath still unsteady.

Then typed:

Stefan: You.

Stefan: Your voice.

Stefan: Your video.

Stefan: Your fucking mouth.

Stefan: The way you whisper my name when you're close.

Stefan: That's the only thing I've jerked off to since you sent the first message.

Her reply came with a new file.

Voice Memo 17 seconds

"Next time, I want you to come on your tablet screen while my face pic is on it. I want to see you watch me while you lose it. And then... I want you to thank me for it."

****

It happened on a Wednesday.

The day had started like any other.

Muted sky. Crowded hallways. Teachers already checking out weeks before finals.

But something felt heavier between them like every look they exchanged was a countdown to something inevitable.

Stefan had been quiet all day. Focused. Controlled.

But Anita had felt the pressure in her chest from the moment she woke up. That pressure only built when the app lit up her screen halfway through lunch.

Truth or DM New Dare Unlocked:

"Film yourself giving them head. Real. Messy. Finish included. No safe angles. They need to feel it."

The message underneath was even simpler:

Both players must complete the dare to proceed.

Her screen buzzed again, this time from Stefan:

Stefan: You're home tonight?

Anita: I'm always home on Wednesdays.

Stefan: Parents home?

Anita: Nope they are going out.

Stefan: Wear something easy to take off. You're going to need your hands free.

Her heart skipped a beat.

At 11:38 p. m., she heard the knock.

Not at her door. At her bedroom window just one floor below his there was this escape balcony ladder. Their shared fire escape had never felt so intimate before. She opened the glass, heart pounding, letting him step in.

Stefan was wearing just black sweatpants and a black t shirt. His hair was damp from a shower. His expression? Unreadable.

But his eyes were locked on her mouth.

"Say the word and I'll leave," he murmured.

"Say the word and I'll get on my knees," she whispered back.

She dropped to the floor.

No hesitation.

No jokes.

No sarcasm.

Just desire thick, hungry, aching.

She sat back on her heels, thighs spread slightly, and looked up at him as she reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You want me to film it?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I'll film it."

Anita's lips parted. Her nipples tightened visibly through her tank top.

He pulled out his phone, hit record, and stepped forward, pushing the elastic band down over his hips.

She saw it.

For the first time. Fully.

His cock was thick, heavy, already hard veins prominent, the flushed tip glistening with precum. It bobbed slightly as it hung in front of her lips, and Anita's breath caught.

"Fuck..." she muttered. "You're fuck."

"Too much?" Stefan smirked. He stroked the base with one hand, looking down at her with a heat that burned.

"No," she said. "Perfect."

She leaned in and kissed the head softly. One reverent, open mouthed kiss. Then she licked a slow circle around it, teasing, her eyes never leaving his.

Stefan's breath hitched. He kept filming.

She began slowly as if unwrapping a gift she already knew she'd be addicted to.

One hand wrapped around the base of his cock, her fingers barely able to circle it, her thumb gliding along a thick, glistening vein that pulsed against her palm. She let her thumb run through the sticky bead of precum at the tip, then smeared it deliberately down his shaft, watching it catch in the ridges of his skin like it was meant to be there.

Then she looked up at him, eyes wide, mischievous as hell.

"Stefan," she giggled, placing the head of his cock against her cheek. "Your dick is literally bigger than my face."

She held it there, lips curled into a grin, turning her head slightly so he could see the obscene size contrast his flushed, thick cock laying across her cheek, her dark lashes fluttering as she pretended to measure it like some kind of perverted ruler.

"This should be illegal," she whispered.

Then she slapped her own cheek with it, not hard, just enough to make a sticky sound, and laughed again as precum smeared across her skin.

"This isn't porn anymore," she teased. "This is my life now."

"You complaining?" he said, eyes hooded.

"Who the fuck would complain?" she smirked. "Especially when I get to taste it."

She licked a long stripe up the underside, then flicked her tongue over the tip taunting him, teasing herself, tasting him in slow, deliberate patterns like she was memorizing every ridge, every drop, every reaction.

He twitched in her hand.

"You like that it's this big, don't you?" he asked, tone dark and amused.

She nodded.

"I fucking love it. I can feel it in my throat and it's not even inside yet."

Her lips parted wider.

She took him in inch by inch, moaning softly, her jaw working to accommodate the stretch. Her lips bulged around the girth, glossy and already slick with spit as her tongue flattened and welcomed the intrusion.

Saliva ran down her chin in shimmering threads.

Her eyes fluttered.

Her hands squeezed the base to anchor herself.

He didn't say a word at first.

He just watched.

Watched her try.

Watched her struggle.

Watched her lips stretch too wide, watched her eyes begin to water as she forced herself further... and fail to take him all the way.

Then try again anyway.

"Fuck, Anita," he groaned, his voice ragged. "Look at you."

She looked up.

Eyes glassy.

Mascara slightly smudged.

Lips stuffed full of him.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, letting her tongue swirl and massage while she stared into his soul.

He reached down and cupped the back of her head not rough, but firm. Possessive. Steady. He held her there just long enough to let her feel how deep she was, then slowly helped her find a rhythm.

Her mouth began to slip and slide around him, every thrust into her throat met with a wet gag or a stifled moan.

Then she choked.

Her eyes snapped shut as she pulled back fast with a messy gasp, a thick rope of spit clinging from her lip to the swollen head of his cock. She coughed, smiled, then laughed breathlessly.

"It's too much," she whispered, panting, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

"No," Stefan said, leaning down, eyes dark with pride. "You're taking it just fine."

He reached out and smeared her spit across her cheek with his thumb, then brought it to her lips.

"You're doing so good. Don't stop now."

That detonated something inside her.

Her praise kink hit hard. Her pupils dilated. Her thighs pressed together.

"I want it," she whispered. "I need it."

And she dove back down.

This time, sloppier. Hungrier. Her hand worked the base, twisting and squeezing, while her mouth drooled over the rest. Her spit coated him in glistening sheen, dripping down her wrist, stringing from her chin in sticky pearls.

Her free hand snuck between her thighs rubbing herself through soaked panties, hips grinding into her own touch as she moaned around his cock.

He felt the vibration in her throat and gasped.

"You want it in your mouth?" he growled.

She pulled off, strings of spit stretching from her lips to his cock. Her chest rose and fell like she'd just surfaced from deep water.

She nodded.

Eyes wild.

Fingers trembling.

"Then you're going to finish me," he said. "And you're going to swallow if you can."

"Yes," she breathed. "Please."

Her tongue licked the underside once more, then she took him in again faster now, rougher, bobbing with rhythm and purpose, eyes fluttering shut as his cock disappeared between her swollen lips.

She moaned. He groaned.

His hands tangled in her hair.

And her face messy, flushed, wet with spit and arousal was lit up with utter devotion. Like this was where she belonged.

He didn't last long.

How could he?

Her tongue, her moans, the way she looked up at him while her other hand was buried between her legsslick fingers pumping, thighs shaking was pure erotic chaos. She was fucking herself with desperate little cries while sucking his cock, a girl completely lost in her own pleasure and his.

Stefan's abs flexed. His hips jerked forward, helpless.

"Anita fuck I'm gonna fuck, I'm gonna cum"

She didn't slow down.

She moaned around the head, letting it pop free with a wet gasp, then wrapped both hands around his thick, twitching shaft one at the base, the other right under the head and started stroking him with fast, hungry pumps, spit gliding between her palms.

"God, you're so big," she giggled breathlessly, stroking faster as her wrists twisted.

"Come on, let it out for me. Cum for me, Stefan."

Her voice was teasing, almost sweet, but her eyes wide and wild and glowing were locked on his tip like she was addicted to watching it throb.

She leaned in, tongue flicking the head just as it started to pulse.

And then

He came.

Hard.

The first thick rope shot straight into her mouth.

She choked once, but didn't flinch. Didn't back off.

Held him in, lips sealed tight around the head, fingers stroking him with both hands, coaxing him through every intense spurt.

His cock jumped again in her grip, and this time a hot line of cum dripped past the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin, glistening against the flushed skin of her throat.

She blinked up at him, swallowing what she could, still stroking him gently, milking the last drops while she licked at the tip lazy and greedy, like she couldn't let go yet.

Her lips were slick and swollen, her jaw twitching from the effort, hair tangled around her face.

She looked wrecked and proud.

"Holy shit," Stefan gasped, staring down at her.

"You're lucky I'm greedy," she smirked, licking her lips and dragging a finger through the cum that dripped to her chest.

"Mmm... first big one I've ever handled like this," she said, giggling. "Think I did pretty damn good."

She winked, then sucked her cum-coated finger into her mouth, eyes never leaving his.

And Stefan still trembling, cock twitching in her hands could only nod.

"You did," he rasped. "You fucking destroyed me."

She pulled her top off then, slow and defiant.

Wiped the remaining cum across her tits and moaned at the mess.

"Stop recording," she whispered.

"Why?" he asked, still breathless.

"Because now I want to ride your face, and I don't want to share that with anyone else."

****

She kissed him first.

Right after she told him to stop recording. Right after she dragged the last slick drop of his cum off her lips with two fingers and sucked them clean like dessert.

Anita reached up, grabbed him by the collar of his T shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss that burned through both of them hot, wet, messy with spit and want.

And Stefan kissed her back like she was oxygen.

His hands found her waist. She was still in her thong, soaked through and soft against his palm. She rolled her hips against him, moaning into his mouth as his hands slid up to cup her tits.

He broke the kiss, looked down at her bare chest.

"You're unreal," he murmured.

"Then fuck me like I am."

That's when the tension snapped.

He lifted her off the floor like she weighed nothing hands firm under her thighs, lips crushing into her neck as she gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Where's your bed?"

"Back left," she whispered, biting his ear. "But you can fuck me against the wall first if you want."

Stefan growled into her skin and carried her straight through the dark, narrow hallway to her room. Tossed her down onto the mattress, her hair haloing against the pillows.

She sat up, panting, eyes wide, fingers already pushing the thong down her thighs.

"Condom?" she asked.

He nodded, reaching into his wallet. Ripped the foil. Watched her as he rolled it down the thick length of his cock with one slow, deliberate stroke.

"You're staring," he smirked.

"You're huge," she said, breathless. "I'm not mentally prepared."

"I'll go slow," he promised, leaning over her.

"Don't lie to me," she whispered. "Just make me feel it."

He climbed between her thighs, kissed the inside of her knee, then the soft curve between her legs.

She whimpered.

And when he pressed the head of his cock to her entrance, she tensed not from fear, but from anticipation. Her fingers dug into the sheets. Her legs twitched open wider.

"Relax," he whispered. "You're soaking."

"I know," she gasped. "I want it. Just fuck be gentle."

"First stroke," he said, voice husky. "Then I ruin you."

He pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Stretching.

She gasped sharp, involuntary and arched beneath him.

"Holy fuck oh my god, you're "

He paused halfway in, resting his forehead against hers, breathing with her.

"You're taking it," he whispered. "Just like that. You're perfect."

Anita blinked up at him, tears at the edges of her lashes not from pain, but from being completely filled.

He rocked his hips, sliding deeper.

And deeper.

Until he was all the way in.

She moaned like she was breaking.

And then he moved.

Slow strokes at first controlled, deep, letting her adjust, letting her feel every inch.

Her hands gripped his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

"You feel me, don't you?" he growled.

"Yes. God, yes keep going don't stop "

He thrust harder.

Faster.

The rhythm building skin to skin, sweat beading at the base of his spine, her body jerking up the bed with every impact.

She wrapped her legs around him and took it all, gasping into his neck, moaning his name over and over like it was the only word she remembered.

"You're so deep I'm gonna fucking ohh Stefan "

"Come for me," he whispered. "Right now. Make it messy."

She did.

Her whole body clenched around him, eyes rolling back, legs trembling, voice caught between a scream and a sob as she came hard around his cock still pulsing, still deep inside her.

He kept thrusting.

Just a few more strokes.

And then he buried himself fully and groaned, low and broken, as he came inside the condom deep, hard, shuddering from head to toe.

Their moans tangled. Their sweat soaked the sheets. Their breathing synced.

And then... stillness.

He collapsed beside her.

She turned into his chest, hair sticking to her forehead, face flushed.

Neither spoke for a while.

Then, without looking up, Anita whispered:

"That felt like a confession."

"It was," Stefan said softly. "You felt like one too."

She smiled. Closed her eyes. And curled into his arms as the afterglow wrapped around them like heat.

The phone on the nightstand buzzed softly.

But neither of them moved to answer it.

Not yet.

****

The room smelled like sex.

Skin and sweat and her shampoo in the sheets. The warmth between them still buzzed beneath the surface, even though neither one of them moved.

Anita lay with her cheek on Stefan's chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breath. One of his hands was tangled in her hair. The other traced soft lines down her bare spine, lazy and unhurried.

"Did we really just do that?" she asked softly.

"We did," he murmured. "Twice, actually."

"Fuck," she laughed, hiding her face in his chest. "You ruined me."

"You asked me to."

He felt her smile against his skin.

They stayed like that for a while.

No music. No phones. Just the comfort of silence, the kind that only came after being undone so completely that there was nothing left to pretend.

It was after midnight when their phones buzzed again.

They didn't move at first.

Then Anita stretched, one leg still tangled with his, and reached for hers off the nightstand.

She exhaled as she read the screen.

Truth or DM -- Bedroom Dare Unlocked

"You live one floor apart. Return to your own beds. Strip. Call each other. Edge yourselves while watching the last sex video. Countdown to a simultaneous orgasm. Record it if you dare."

Her pulse skipped.

She looked at Stefan.

He was already staring at her.

"Well?" she asked.

"Only if you go stay in just my shirt."

"Only if you finish with my voice in your ear."

They didn't smile.

Not this time.

They just understood.

00:49 -- Separate Rooms. Shared Heat.

Anita slipped into Stefan's oversized T shirt, no bra, no panties. His cum still drying inside the condom in her trash bin.

Stefan got back out the window and down to his room.

Ten minutes later, they were in their own beds. Lights off. Phones propped on pillows. A call connected.

FaceTime. No filters.

Just eyes, skin, breath, and history.

"Ready?" she whispered.

"Always."

He was already hard.

She was already soaked.

But this time wasn't just about lust it was about control. About proving they could still come apart for each other, without the touch. Without the pressure of being skin to skin.

They synced their videos one of her riding him, and one of him thrusting into her, both captured from different angles, both on loop now. One on each of their screens.

Their hands moved slowly at first.

She circled her clit with two fingers, moaning softly into the pillow, Stefan watching her face on the call like it was the only thing he could breathe.

He stroked his cock, jaw clenched, trying to match the pace of her hips in the video.

Trying not to let the sound of her breath break him too soon.

"Tell me when to stop," he whispered.

"Not yet," she murmured. "You haven't begged."

He bit back a groan.

"Please."

"Say my name."

"Anita."

"Say it again, slower."

"A ni ta."

"Good boy. Now stop."

He did.

His hand froze at the base. His cock twitched, aching, desperate. She watched him through the screen, her eyes dark with power.

Then she moaned for real.

"I'm close. You want to finish with me?"

"Yes."

"You want to cum knowing I'm dripping for you? Soaked because I couldn't stop thinking about how you feel inside me?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

"Then stroke again. Slowly. Count with me."

She started:

"Ten..."

"Nine..."

Their moans grew louder. Their hands moved faster. Her thighs trembled. His hips lifted off the bed. They locked eyes through the screen.

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One cum for me."

And they did.

Together.

Stefan came in long, hot streaks over his chest, breath ragged, whispering her name like a prayer.

Anita arched against the sheets, back bowed, legs shaking as her orgasm ripped through her, fingers glistening and soaked.

She collapsed against the pillow.

So did he.

The only sound was their breath, synced across two floors and one shared secret.

"Still think this is just a game?" she asked softly.

"No," Stefan whispered. "Not anymore."

****

The next day started quiet.

Too quiet.

They didn't text much. No voice notes. Just a few flashes of exchanged glances in class, an accidental shoulder brush in the hallway, and Anita's fingers dragging lightly along Stefan's thigh beneath a shared lab bench. Enough to stir the memory, but not enough to satisfy anything.

The tension was now feral past flirting, beyond teasing.

It felt inevitable.

So when the sun went down and the city dimmed behind high rise windows, Anita sent a single message:

Anita: Door's unlocked. Come fuck me again. This time don't hold back.

He came down in silence hood up, body humming with anticipation, phone already set to record. Something had shifted inside him. She had let him in, and now all he wanted was to claim her fully.

When she opened the door, she was already in just her underwear and a loose tank top. No words. Just eyes. Lust. An open invitation.

"Don't speak," she whispered. "Just fuck me."

She barely made it to the bed before he grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and kissed her hard dominant, hungry, urgent.

Her moan hit his mouth as he ripped the tank top up and off, tossing it aside.

"You're soaked through your panties," he growled, dragging his fingers over the slick cotton.

"Take them off, then," she whispered, nipping his jaw. "And record what you're about to do."

Stefan's phone was already rolling low angle POV, perfectly angled toward her ass as she climbed onto all fours on the mattress.

He knelt behind her, rolling a condom on fast. Then slammed into her with one rough, wet stroke.

"F fuck!" she gasped. "You're deeper than last time "

"You're tighter," he growled, gripping her hips as her ass bounced back on his cock.

"You like how that looks?" she panted, glancing back at the phone.

"I'm obsessed. Watching your ass slap into me? Your pussy soaked and sucking me in? Fuck, Anita you're filthy."

Her moan turned feral.

He pulled her hair, dragging her upper body upright so he could fuck her from behind while she arched into his chest, her hand around his wrist as he slammed into her.

It happened fast.

Mid thrust, something felt different less tight, more heat.

Stefan paused, heart hammering.

"Wait condom's gone."

Anita blinked back at him, sweaty, wild eyed, desperate.

"Did it break?"

He nodded. "I think it slipped or tore. I can stop "

"Don't you fucking dare."

"Anita "

"Don't stop. Just don't cum in me. Pull out when you need to. But fuck me. Harder."

Something inside him snapped.

He gripped her hips tighter and slammed back in raw, burying himself fully, dragging a cry from her throat so loud it echoed off the window.

"You feel everything now, don't you?" he snarled into her ear.

"Y yes, fuck I can feel your skin, the veins, your oh god your cock's so thick "

Then he pulled out suddenly and lifted her into his arms.

"What what are you doing?"

"Making you watch," he growled.

He carried her across the room and placed her on the dresser in front of her full length mirror. Legs spread. Hair messy. Eyes wide.

He stood behind her, naked, cock heavy and glistening, sliding into her again from behind one hand in her hair, the other wrapped tight around her throat as he fucked her facing herself.

"Look at you," he whispered. "Look at your mouth hanging open, your tits bouncing, your pussy swallowing my cock."

She whimpered.

"You're dripping down my balls. You see that? That's your mess."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck Stefan I'm gonna "

"Not yet. You're gonna watch me cum first. You're gonna feel it start to throb, and then I'll pull out and ruin you."

Her orgasm hit first anyway.

Her hands slapped against the mirror as she came violently, screaming his name, sobbing through the pleasure as his cock dragged her through every wave.

And Stefan... couldn't last.

He pulled out just in time, gripped his shaft, and exploded hot white ropes painting her ass, back, thighs, while she watched it happen in the mirror.

"You see that?" he hissed. "That's mine."

"I'm yours," she gasped. "Fucking yours "

He collapsed against her back.

Both of them shaking.

The phone still rolling caught the whole thing.

"Send that to me," Anita whispered, breathless.

"You want it?"

"I'm gonna watch myself get fucked stupid by your cock every night until I break again."

He kissed her shoulder. Smiled into her hair.

"Next time," he said, "you're riding me facing the mirror. I want to see what you look like when you beg."

They collapsed together onto the bed, sweat soaked, hearts racing.

She curled into his chest.

His hand stroked her back.

"I don't want anyone else," she whispered, voice small.

"You won't," he murmured. "Not after this."

Their phones buzzed again.

Neither of them reached for them.

They didn't need the app anymore.

They had each other.