The Supremacy of Samantha

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

“Samantha!” gulped Tom, aghast. Why, the poor man had already agreed to let all his poker buddies gangbang his suddenly inventive wife…and now she didn’t even want to use condoms? Suddenly this just seemed too much. He stared at her, shocked.

“I mean it,” she said urgently, “no rubbers—just every one of those thick c***s sliding straight into me, flesh to flesh.” Her eyelids fluttered as she pleasured herself more rapidly. “Ooh, I am gonna feel ’em, baby, gonna feel those bad boys just splooge me full, all wet and gooey.”

Tom’s pulse pounded heavily within his body. What she wanted was so dirty, so wicked…and yet he had to admit to himself, very secretly, that he was restlessly excited by the frankness of her demands. Certainly there would be something of a logic to his agreement—that is, if should he choose to agree to this condition, he added to himself hastily. He had, after all, already promised, essentially, to pimp her out to all of his poker buddies, and then to watch as they gangbanged her without remorse. Once she had had so many d***s stuck into her, he wondered, was there any real reason not to let them just squirt their c*m right there against the slippery pink bottom of her smooth, grasping womb? They were all his friends—they were clean, and discreet, and understanding, and she, of course, was on the Pill.

Besides he was rather turned on by her freshly f****d cunt. There was no getting around the fact, and the naughty Samantha knew it all too well.

He absolutely loved the smell and the taste of that hairy p***y of hers, and over the years he had become a rabid cunnilinguist. One of his favorite things was to lick that lovely pink slit, then self-indulgently tease his fat purpled knob by f*****g her very, very slowly for awhile without letting himself come. It was more for his own pleasure than hers, of course, almost some exhibitionistic form of m**********n for him as she lay there calm and collected beneath him and studied his progress indulgently. He liked to take his time, feeling her eyes upon him as his pleasures mounted higher. Then, when he started to feel drizzly and twitchy, shudderingly close to orgasm, he would stop, and tantalize himself all the more by slithering back down and commencing to suck once again at her delicious little c**t. Back and forth he would alternate the delicious self-torture, back and forth, until finally he simply had to climb atop her in earnest, and as the smirking girl began scratching and pinching at his n*****s, he would just squirt his poor balls dry.

Yet if there was one thing that could send an even keener thrill through his flesh, it was the sight of her freshly f****d cunt after he had used it and made it all his. Still plump-lipped and parted from his repeated penetrations, warm and smelly and glistening, welling up with the stringy curdles of his sperm—oh, how beautiful it was! Now and then during lovemaking, when he had finished first, he liked to crawl down between her sweaty thighs, put his burning cheek on her soft hip, and push his trembling fingertips right into her hairy mess and masturbate her to her orgasm.

She always protested that she didn’t want him to do that when she was so messy and drippy, but, panting and growling in his passion, he would simply master the throbbing little bud of her c******s until she could resist him no more. Smiling tightly in his wild-eyed eagerness, he might reach a pair of fingers right into that bubbling hole and scoop up a big thick dollop of his semen to smear across the sensitive juncture at the top of her v****a. Though at first she squirmed, soon enough he would prod her urgently into acquiescence, and she could not help settling back and beginning to sigh in delight. Breathing deep, listening excitedly to every bubbly squelch, his eyes gleamed bright upon her sploogey paradise. That sweetly perverse intimacy always gave him such a naughty thrill.

And if she looked so good—and sounded, and felt, and smelled so good!—with only one load of c*m in her, then how much more beautiful would she be, he wondered, flushing, when absolutely filled with all his friends’ jism?

“You do want me to have it like that, don’t you?” she whispered now, darkly. “Don’t you? Come on, you groveling cuckold, no condoms! It’s gonna feel so good.”

Breathing deep, he unzipped his pants, and as his desperate erection sprang free, he began to handle himself. For a moment she watched the rhythmic motion of his fist, smiling as if the act he performed was less a thing of self-determination now than a sign of surrender, of subservience. Which perhaps, he realized uneasily even as he kept pulling at himself, it was… Always before, after all, to masturbate before his wife had been an act of trust, of love, and, a little secretly, of swaggering masculinity. Yes, for he was big and bold and bloated, and she would have to marvel at his hard-on! Now, however, she heaped upon her cuckold-to-be humiliation after humiliation, and still he could only rub the thin, stretchable skin from behind his circumcision scar again and again over the rim of the engorged purple glans that simply would not soften.

It was a strange, strange thing to think, and yet, queasily excited, he could not stop his jerking fist. “You r-really want that?” he asked in a tiny voice, unsure himself of whether, way deep down inside, he was protesting the terrible notion or begging for it.

“Uh huh!” she whispered. “I want it all—every slippery stroke, every gooey spurt. I want to make ’em come, and I want to really feel it.”

Tom thought about it for a long time, his eyes blazing. Excitedly he jerked at himself, ashamed and yet morbidly entranced as he imagined everything, everything… “O-okay,” he forced out finally, red-faced.

“Really…?” she wondered slyly. “So you do want to watch your wifey get really juiced up, and then all splooged up? You want to see what a bad-girl she can be?”

“Mm hmm,” he murmured, still self-conscious and yet somehow dirtily thrilled to be able finally to confess before her. God, the sight of that awful betrayal, the sound of it, the smell of it. Restlessly he shivered. “I think—” He swallowed. “I think you could be quite the bad-girl if you wanted.”

She smiled impishly. “Ya think?”

“And I—” He bit his lip. “Well, I think it would be kinda kinky to—to—to watch you lie back all flushed and excited, begging for their c***s, and for their cum.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. Narrowing her eyes playfully, she peered at him as she worked herself over. “’Cause you do like me like that, don’t you, sweetie? All opened up and cummy.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You like to play in me then, don’t you, baby?” she wondered. “You’d probably wanna see it and smell it, and put your—” She stopped as if surprised by a long-forgotten memory, then pursed her lips and amended pointedly, “Put your fingers right in and get me off.”

Tom’s face flushed scarlet, painfully hot. Suddenly embarrassed, his sweating hand slowed distractedly, and despite his wild excitation of bare moments before, his rigid flesh began to shrivel uncomfortably. He loved her p***y so much—and, yes, it was even better when it was freshly f****d! Oh, those plump, sperm-strung labia gleamed so sexy and unabashedly womanly in his wondering eyes, and they felt so slippery and intimate beneath his loving fingers. And they smelled so wildly arousing that one time he—he—he—

Once after he had made love to her and gone down there to rub her off, he had gotten so worked up that he simply could not restrain himself—he just dropped his reddened face right into that slippery cunt and slurped her all up! Suddenly his watering mouth was full of used cunt-flesh, bubbling and salty and warm beneath his slobbering tongue. Oh, it had felt so right!

She had gasped in surprise, and though she tried to free herself from this unasked-for outrage, he just clung deliriously to her hips, whimpering in his joy as he veritably drowned himself in lubrication and sperm and saliva. Soon, despite her cringing reluctance, she began to shudder in response beneath his worshipful tongue. She was warm and wet and goopy, impossibly delicious. He was ravenous with excitement and adoration, desperate in his unspeakable passions—how sweet it was to wallow so in the copious fluids of their comingled lusts!

That act of his utmost loving submission had been profoundly fulfilling somehow, and as he buried his panting face in her squelching folds, his tired, shrunken little c**k stirred once more in mindless, eager reflex. On and on he slavered and sucked, gulping helplessly, until she panted out her climax. And when she was done, he rose to his trembling knees once more, his eyes wide, his mouth stinking, his lower face still shining with lubrication and strung with stray spatters of sperm, and he just dug her gleaming cunt wide open with his thumbs and f****d her again, savagely, tenderly, while she wrapped her smooth white arms about his straining shoulders and whispered lovingly in his reddened ear.

Though he had m*********d guiltily to the sweet remembrance many times, very secretly, he had never had the nerve to do it again, and through some grave, inscrutable courtesy, she had never mentioned it either. To bring that up now, however, especially in the context of her proposed condom-less gangbang, it was mortifying. Why, he would never even think of doing that after someone else had f****d her, would he? Of course not! Or at least, not unless she made him do it, he amended inwardly, blushing. It was wicked and shameful and wrong even to consider, but if his fierce-eyed wife, reveling in her newfound feminine power, were to command it, then of course he would have to obey, wouldn’t he? His face was very red. Biting his lip, he said nothing.

Samantha, however, seemed to read it all in his guilty visage, her eyes somehow leering as they measured his every vulnerability for her wanton exploitation. Sardonically she reached out and into his shirt, and she scratched a wordless appeal at the undersides of his n*****s, making his poor embarrassed c**k begin to twitch once more. “You like that, don’t you, bad-boy?” she wondered crookedly. “Yeah, you’ll do anything for me now, won’t you? Aaaaanything…”

Determined she pinched at his sensitive little points of flesh with one hand while with her other she rubbed herself softly, and she posed and writhed before him, so pretty, so unashamed, and so alluring, that soon he found himself growing hard once more. “Yeah, show me your hard-on, you dirty cuckold,” she crooned. “You know what you’re gonna do afterward, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes, dear,” he whispered shamefaced. Guiltily he began to tug at himself again.

Samantha’s smile was long and slow and very self-assured. “Your fingers won’t be enough, will they, Tom?” she opined.

Tom shivered. “M-m-maybe not,” he admitted meekly, imagining it.

“You will feel me,” she predicted softly.

“Yes!” he breathed.

“You will smell me,” she intoned, touching herself.

“Mm hmm,” he sighed, his nostrils already filled with the salty-sweet reek of her liquid arousal.

“And of course,” she crooned devilishly, “you will?”

Helplessly Tom bit his lip, vibrating rapidly in his own exhibitionistic struggles before the knowing green eyes of the woman who seemed to control every inch of his very soul. He could only jerk at himself wildly, and she knew why, and he knew that she knew. It made her masturbate all the more wickedly.

“And of course,” repeated Samantha, silkily insinuating, “you will?”

“T-t-taste you!” he whimpered helplessly, clutching the reassuring fullness of her soft white bosom. “Taste you!”

“That’s my baby,” she murmured crookedly in encouragement. “Show me how turned on you are—how much you want me to have my fun, and get f****d, and see me get all cummed up.”

Shivering, Tom pulled at his reddened flesh, watching her creamy white jugs jiggle as she stroked herself.

“Of course, you do know that I would make you wait until last, don’t you, baby?” she said teasingly. “I wouldn’t let you splooge me—or even touch me, I think—until after everyone else had had their way with me. You’d just have to wait, and watch, and suffer.”

Breathing heavily, he gazed back into those green eyes that seemed to smile at his helpless excitement. The corner of her lips curled saucily at his agitation.

“Would you like that, honey?” she asked coquettishly, dragging the tip of her middle finger all about the tremulous morsel that nested tight and hot in the shy folds at the top of her wildly lubricated cunt. “Would you like to see me be a real slut, a slave to all those big red d***s, and to feel yourself getting all twitchy and juicy inside as you wait for your chance to have me?”

Tom nodded jerkily, licking his lips as he m*********d along with her.

“Can you imagine it?” pressed her sly voice. Still she pleasured herself before her adoring husband. “Can you imagine what they’ll do to me, and how excited you’ll get as you watch it all, too? Think of it, baby!”

Tom thought about it, his brain burning with unspeakable delights—Samantha’s wanton teasing as they ogled and groped her, the way she would sigh as they used her without remorse, the sight and sound of those rampant red phalluses pumping her faster and faster until each had squirted gratefully into her beckoning nakedness. Oh, how wickedly thrilling it would be! For a long moment he just panted as he yanked at his swollen flesh, unable to speak.

“And when I’m done with them,” she said quietly, “think of how much I’ll be ready for you—all flushed and sleepy and warm, ready for anything you could ever want…anything.”

His eyes blazed.

“Would you still want me then,” she said, smirking, “even after all your friends had used me? I’d be all sweaty and cummy—absolutely swimming in sperm!—and then I would just lie back and open my legs for you.”

Helplessly Tom tugged at his swollen organ, ever more rapidly.

“I’d be like some éclair,” Samantha smiled naughtily, “just a fleshy pink tube pumped absolutely full of cream filling.” Her nostrils flared as she prodded her flesh right along with him. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Longingly he gazed at his wife as she vibrated tightly to her pleasures. How wildly tempting she was, how sly and naughty!

“And then, baby,” she whispered, “if you’ve been a verrrry good little cuckold, I might let you play, too. Just think of it! Think of it.”

Trembling, he imagined that pretty p***y after nearly a dozen c***s had penetrated, pumped, and polluted it—an open bowl of spermy pink flesh held shamelessly wide, gooey and dripping, an inviting pool of liquid sexuality, a fragrant chalice of pure womanhood. How irresistible would be his sultry-eyed blonde siren, and how unutterably satisfying!

Finally, red-faced, he found his voice. “Oh, honey!” he sighed. Growling, he rolled her back across the couch, and he pushed her slicked panties awkwardly aside, and as she kept playing with herself feverishly, he started to push his achingly aroused c**k past her busy fingertips and into the very depths of her cunt—

But at this her eyes snapped wide, and she suddenly she grabbed his p***s, painfully tight. He gasped, but she did not relent. “This is not your time, big man,” she murmured derisively. “Any more than that night will be your time. It’s mine!”

“B-b-but—” sputtered Tom, confused, and cringing from her heedlessly rough grip that reduced his once-proud erection into tininess. Yet still she did not relent, and in his wriggling smallness her formerly soft hand mastered him utterly.

“And when is next poker night?” she wondered in mock-patience.

“N-next weekend!” he gulped. “Friday! S-same as always.”

“And whose turn is it to host?” asked his wife quietly, her half-lidded eyes gleaming mysteriously.

“Uh…” Tom swallowed, trying to think straight. “It, uh—it’s Joe’s.”

Gravely Samantha shook her head, her fist as motionless as iron manacles upon his frightened little p***s. “Not now.” She gave a slow, challenging stare. “Now it will be our turn to host.”

Tom bit his lip. “O-okay,” he managed. “I’ll— I’ll tell them,” he answered dutifully. His mind whirled. “B-but—”

“And you will take the kids over to your parents that night,” she smiled darkly, “so there will be no hurry at all.”

He blinked. “Of course, dear,” he whispered.

She held his gaze for a long moment, seeming to the shamed man to look into the lightless, inky depths of his unplumbed psyche. God, she thought of everything, didn’t she? he marveled in an unwilling sort of awe. And she knew everything, somehow, too. And yet, as deeply and confusedly as he loved his betraying angel, when he looked back into her soft, smirkingly self-composed face, it was almost as if he were seeing it for the first time, for beneath those familiar curves and planes was a peculiar determination, frightening and yet also wickedly thrilling, such as he had never before quite sensed.

All at once his wife released his tiny manhood, and as Tom’s breath caught in his throat, she began to fondle her own thickened n*****s, double-handed and unashamed. “So get down there and eat me,” she growled crookedly. “I wanna feel that tongue inside of me.”

“God, thank you, honey!” he gasped. Gratefully he slid to his knees between her open thighs, and he pushed his whimpering face into her meaty pubis, and he began to make love. The flavor of her, and the feel of her sticky-soft flesh beneath his devoted lips and tongue… His organ shuddered into erectness at once, and instinctively he reached down and began tugging contentedly at himself.

“You’d better enjoy it now, cuckold,” she whispered fiercely. “’Cause that’s all you’re gonna get until after next Friday!”

Despite himself, he stopped, and his eyes rolled up in shock, across her beautifully fragrant pubic bush and her belly and her heavy breasts, into a face that stared down, slit-eyed. “B-b-but—” he gulped plaintively.

At this, however, Samantha reached down and mashed his face once more into her beautiful crotch, and, mentally off-balance and yet helplessly needy, he could only open his mouth and begin to comfort himself once more in the most natural way possible. His lips by touch found her c******s inflamed and ready at the top of her slippery-soft vulva, and he nursed upon the trembling purple thing like a baby. Eyes closed as he snuggled deep, he pulled confusedly at his p***s.

“You can play with yourself a little if you like,” she declared in lofty tones, “but you will not be permitted an orgasm—not inside of me, not on me, not even by your own hand!—until you have learned the proper way to treat your wife. Remember,” she said darkly, yet a trifle breathily as well, as his imploring mouth made her body respond, “I am not your w***e—you are mine.”

Eyes still closed, and smothered happily in cunt, Tom nodded contritely, sorry ever to have offended his stern goddess. Entreatingly he gummed and licked all about the very seat of her pleasures, happy to feel her full hips shudder upon her chair, and to sense as well by the faint jiggling of her body that she had resumed tugging on those great big titties of hers. For she deserved it all, did she not?—so, so much. He smeared his face through her squashed-open folds, breathing deep of the salty-sweet scent of her.

“Yes,” whispered Samantha somewhere far above him, “show me how bad you want me! ’Cause after this, big man, you are not gonna get one slippery pink inch until after you arrange for my gangbang and I get those eight other c***s in me! Show me how turned on you are to think about it. Show me. Show me…”

Tom clung to her, happily, and as she began to shiver out her climax under him, he groaned with the agony of withholding his seed, but he did it—for her, for her!—and while his poor distended scrotum twitched uneasily, he instead poured his love into her through the medium of his dreamily wallowing face, on and on and on, exulting somewhere deep inside as he knew that after this it would never be the same again.