The Usual

You reach over and pick up your iPhone with a half-hearted grip. Your thumb brushes the power button, and the screen lights up instantly, bathing your face in its familiar glow. The lock screen greets you with that chaotic photo from last year’s dry-paint festival — you and Jenny covered head-to-toe in bright colours, mid-laugh, mid-fight, looking like you actually got along for once.

The usual notifications scroll across the top: a message from your dad (probably asking for the hundredth time when you’re getting a “real job”), a couple of work emails about sales targets, and a reminder from your buddy Mike about tonight’s meet-up at the bar. Nothing urgent.

You swipe through them quickly. No texts from Jenny. That’s… odd. She rarely misses a chance to send some sarcastic remark or passive-aggressive emoji storm first thing in the morning. Maybe she was finally giving you a break. Or maybe she was just too busy being a bitch somewhere else.

You set the phone back down on the nightstand and rolled out of bed, your body still buzzing with leftover heat from that vivid dream. Your cock hung heavy and half-hard between your legs, clearly disappointed it hadn’t gotten to finish what the fantasy started. A quick glance down confirmed it: you were sporting an impressive morning erection, thick and insistent, the head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum.

You padded into the small bathroom and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Same tired face, same messy hair, same average guy staring back. Nothing special. Nothing exciting. Just another day in the same dull flat.

The sound of the shower turning on filled the tiny room as you twisted the tap. Steam began to rise almost immediately, fogging the mirror and curling around you like a warm invitation.