$10,000!

Jason stares at the ticket for so long you start to get nervous. Were you wrong? Was the ticket a dud?

"Did I win?" you ask quietly.

Jason turns to you as if in shock, staring at you blankly. Abruptly his mouth curves into a giant yellow smile. "Ten. Thousand. Dollars," he slowly says, and your jaw drops.

"Ten...." a shriek interrupts your words, and it's only when you find Jason's tongue going down your throat that you realize the shriek was yours, and that you've jumped on top of him, legs and arms wrapped around him, your crotch pressed tightly against his as he grinds a sizable lump against you. Inexplicably you find yourself getting wet and warm and rubbing against him as your tongue sucks on his like you're giving it a blowjob. Instead of cum you get a mouthful of rancid spit before you feel hands pulling at your shoulders.

"My turn," Bob says excitedly, and somehow you find yourself unable to stop yourself from grabbing hold of him and repeating the kiss, the grinding, the ever-increasing excitement. God, what would Jacob....

"Jesus," Bob gasps. "I think she just wet herself!"

"Fuck, the little slut just came from humping you!" Jason exclaims, and you realize he's right. Warmth suffuses your face, just as it's suffused your crotch, and you can't look either man in the eye as Bob lowers you back to your feet.

"We don't cash more than two-hundred here," the cashier says in the same dull monotone, as if nothing of interest had happened. Somehow it helps to center you again, to combat the shame of cumming like you just did.

Fortunately Jason speaks what you're thinking. "Well where are we supposed to get it cashed then?"

"Lottery headquarters. It's listed on the ticket."

"Damn, I need my four-thousand now," Bob says, fuming. "I've got bills to pay."

"Me too," Jason grouses, and hearing their words snaps you out of your embarrassment. "'cept I don't want my ex to hear about it or she'll want her half."

"Yeah, mine too," Bob agrees mournfully. "And if we cash it in all our names the lotto commission will tax us three times. We'll be lucky to get anything."

"Wait a minute," you interrupt. "It's my ticket."

Jason and Bob snort, rolling their eyes at each other.

"We each paid a dollar, you paid half a dollar. That means we each own forty percent and you own twenty percent."

"But..." your voice trails away, the dreams of what you could've done with ten thousand dollars dwindling. Two thousand wouldn't even be enough to pay the first, last, and second that you owe your landlord. It had taken a lot of begging to get him to agree to let you stay, and he'd been dropping some heavy hints lately. And then there's food, those exorbitant utility bills, internet, phone, cable, and of course saving up for next semester's tuition.

"Of course...." Jason's eyes turned distant, a thought evidently occurring to him. "There might be a way for you to buy our portions."

This time it's you who snorts. "Like I've got the money," you mutter.

"There are ways...." Jason says with a yellow-toothed grin.