I’ve been in this exact spot since last night. The only time I’ve moved is to go down to the main desk to pick up my food delivery and to piss. It’s my own fault. This paper would’ve already been done if it wasn’t for my obsession with CottonCandy. Instead of working on it—like I should’ve been—I was busy jacking off to videos of her.
My email notification pops up, and I almost click it away until I see the subject line.
Behind the LensSweetest Ride Giveaway
That alone catches my attention and I immediately open it and read.
My jaw drops. It says I’m the winner. I was the randomly chosen winner. I knew the drawing was yesterday, but I’ve beenin such a time crunch I haven’t had time to watch any of Candy’s streams.
I read the email again. Maybe ten times. Each time it seems more unbelievable. It has to be a scam. Somehow someone hacked the BTL site and stole my information. They know I applied and are out to rob me blind. Too bad they picked a college student with a minimum wage job and a mountain of student loans.
But what if it isn’t a scam? What if it’s real?
I don’t hesitate. I don’t breathe as I log into my account on the BTL site and head straight for her page. Before I can click on the stream announcing the winner, I see a message from her.
My eyes scan it, taking in each word with ravenous hunger.
I got picked. Holy fucking cheeseballs! It’s real. I won.
I stare at my computer for I don’t know how long before it finally sinks in. I won. I’m about to meet Candy. Have sex with her.
Fuck me!
I take a deep breath. Then take my time letting more than the fact I won sink in. There’s a lot I have to do. First, I need to reply and accept the offer so they know they don’t need to pick someone else.
For a minute, I hesitate. Do I want to do this? It’s a porn site and I’d be putting myself out there for everyone to see. It could potentially ruin my life. Any potential job opportunity could see this and immediately place me on a DO NOT HIRE list. Mom always warned me whatever you put on the internet is there forever. No matter how hard you try to erase it, you can’t.
My carnal desire takes over and I click reply, immediately telling them yes I want to do this.
Now, I wait. It said there would be more information to follow if I accept. Requirements and tests I need to do.
My leg taps nervously under the desk, each time I’m playing a game of Russian Roulette as to whether my knee is going to hit the metal bar.
It doesn’t.
Seems luck is on my side today. Winning the contest. Time in real life with my obsession, I’m almost done with this paper and I still have time to spare before the deadline.
I click over to the message that Candy sent and debate replying. What do I say? So excited to see that orgasm face in person. Can’t wait to eat that sweet pussy while your juices drip down my face.
Finally, I settle for one that won’t make me look like a horn dog.
Me: That’s amazing. I never thought I’d win but it’s a happy surprise. I can’t wait to meet you in person.
Sweet. Simple. And I don’t come off like a sex crazed idiot.
Then I sign out. I need to get this paper done.
The last week since getting the notification that I’ve won has been insane. One appointment after another and I’m still not done.
Blood tests, NDA’s I had to sign, and meeting with the BTL production coordinator. Yet, through it all I haven’t seen Candy. I’ve watched her videos, and even managed to catch one live stream. But there hasn’t been much conversation.
There was no doubt in my mind I’d pass the STD screenings. I make sure I wear a condom every time I have sex. Not to mention I’ve been so busy with school and work lately that the only action my dick’s seen is my hand.
Today, I have a meeting with the BTL attorney. Got to admit, I’m scared shitless.
I rethink what I’m wearing and finally decide on a pair of jeans and a sweater. No need for a suit. The lawyer has to know what this meeting is about. He works for BTL.
“Where you heading out to? Hot date?” Tanner questions, I look over at him, and want to scream. He’s laying on his damn bed again with his shoes on. Since when did this become a thing. You literally sleep there and you want your dirty ass sneakers all over it.
