Page 4 of Chasing My Bliss (Behind The Lens #6)

T he notification slides across my screen like a whisper— New channel added to Behind the Lens .

I didn’t expect anything spectacular. The site has become stale.

Predictable. It’s the same made-up girls with the dead eyes, doing the same desperate things to get a man’s attention.

Nothing about it excites me anymore. It is the same old soulless plastic performances with the girl getting her rocks off for us.

Toys, women, men, anything to achieve an orgasm.

I don’t know why I even clicked on the live stream, other than to prove myself right.

And there she was.

Sitting on a bed, book in her lap, a red sucker tucked into the corner of her mouth. Innocent. My eyes lock in on her fingers, turning a page like there isn’t a soul watching her. It’s almost as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

But I am watching her. So are they. The people logging in on her channel one after another.

It feels as though the rest of the noise fades away; that she’s reading and talking just to me.

Seeing her there in her short skirt, sucking on that lollipop, makes my dick grow hard.

I can envision her licking me, sucking me and I have never been so envious of a candy before.

What is it about this girl that intrigues me like this?

I sit up straighter, curiosity prickling under my skin.

That long-dead itch—the one this site hasn’t scratched in months—is suddenly awake.

Alive. It’s exhilarating. She’s wearing a mask—green and black.

A Mardi Gras style one; gaudy, yet elegant.

Smart choice if she’s trying to keep her identity a secret.

It's big enough to cover her face and conceal her identity.

I had been ready to give up.

Until her.

Until Bliss .

That’s the name she’s using. The one she’s allowing us to know. She isn’t begging for attention or playing the angles like the others do to increase their followers. Draining our wallets as they bare their bodies.

No, Bliss is nervous. I can hear the slight tremor in her voice, the rigidity in her body.

But it’s endearing. It’s cute how she’s trying to read and respond to all the messages that are popping up.

Noticing each question. Responding to them.

Listening to what it is we want from her, but always skipping the filth.

Smart girl.

The mask keeps us out, but her voice lets us in. Low and warm like honey, like sugar melting over steaming coals. She reads aloud from a book—I can’t tell you the title. I don’t even care what it is. It could be obituaries and I’ll still be here, hanging on every syllable.

She carefully flips the page, her fingers trembling slightly as she does.

Every few seconds she'll bite on her lower lip, or swallow, all attempts to keep calm, to be in control of the situation.

A strand of hair falls into her face, aiding the mask in hiding her face.

My breath catches as she lifts her hand ever so gracefully to brush it away.

I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m obsessed. I can feel cum leaking from my tip, but it’s more than just lust that I’m feeling. There’s a connection—one I can’t explain. How could I? I’ve never even crossed paths with this beauty who has me mesmerized. I want…no, I need to know more about her.

I study her the way an entomologist studies a rare insect—precious, alien, possibly venomous. But unlike something trapped in a jar, this one is alive. Breathing. Ready for me to capture and become mine.

Bliss fascinates me. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m watching her in a different way.

Not like the horn dogs are. Not just to get off.

I see her. Beneath the mask. Beneath the layers.

She isn’t just some cam girl to me. She’s mine .

She is sweet to the chat, but selective.

She never gives in to the worst of us—the degenerate begging for a flash of skin.

For her to impale some toy inside of her pussy.

I remember their names though, committing them to memory.

Every handle that types filth. I’ll find them later.

One by one. They don’t deserve her. To watch her.

But I do. She’ll be mine. One day.

Then something shifts. Something catches my attention.

Barely there, tucked near the edge of her bag on the bed behind her. A glint of plastic. The corner of a card. To anyone else’s sight, it would go unnoticed. But not mine.

I take out my phone and zoom in on her bookbag and snap a picture. A smile crosses my face as I zoom, making the picture larger so I can see my prize.

Her mask was a clever move. But everyone slips, eventually. And she did it quicker than most.

Peeking out just slightly, the top of an ID card. Her name is obscured—still buried just enough to keep her safe. But the school name and logo aren’t.

Silver Pine University.

Gotcha.

My body hums with electricity. I have a location. A sliver of her world. It’s the kind of detail that most would overlook—but I’m not most. I’m patient. Precise. And she’s reading from a class book—literature, likely.

It’ll take time, but I’ll narrow it down. Her classes, her dorm. Piece by piece, the puzzle will come together.

I’m one step closer.

I lean back in my chair, breath steady. On-screen, she giggles nervously at something in the chat. Then, slowly, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra.

It slides down her arms like silk peeling off warm skin. Her breasts fall free—round, perfect. She rolls her nipples between her fingers, and a moan escapes her lips. Soft. Sweet.

My cock twitches, feeling ignored.

I reach down, unzip my pants, and pull myself free. Stroking slowly. Watching her.

"Bliss," I whisper, though she can't hear me. "Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to find you."

A long breath. A tighter grip.

"You’ll be mine."