The Supremacy of Samantha by Olivia M. Ravensworth
Running low on cash during poker night with the boys, Tom ends up putting his wife up for collateral to stay in on a hand and win an enormous pot he knows he cannot lose…and yet lose he does. None of his friends would ever try to collect on the bet, of course, and instead, looking faintly wistful, they instead merely rib him good-naturedly.
His busty blonde wife Samantha, however, is not as forgiving. First icily offended by the embarrassed man’s confession, then deeply stirred, the seemingly prim and proper schoolteacher soon asks, breathy and flushed, if Tom truly would like her to pay his supposed debt…because she indeed would, she tells him shyly.
Tom of course recoils—why, she is the love of his life, he tells himself uneasily, the mother of his children, a creature who should be put on a pedestal and adored, not sullied by other man’s leering eyes, their grasping hands, their hungry mouths, their urgent red erections. And yet… Well, despite her rather reserved exterior, Samantha in private always has been so wonderfully sensuous, and he craves to make her ever more beautiful in her pleasure. Secretly and guiltily excited at the wicked idea, the adoring husband thus agrees to grant his inventive darling the naughty little treat she so obviously craves.
At this, however, Samantha’s green eyes flash in triumph, and she reminds Tom vengefully that she is not his whore—now, he is hers… She will indeed accept the proffered gangbang from all his poker buddies, she explains haughtily, but now that she sees what kind of man her husband truly is, this minor escapade will be only the beginning. Tom cringes, dreading and yet sickly entranced by the forbidden notions that dance alluringly in the inventive mind of his formerly reserved and respectable little wifey.
And from the couple’s once-hallowed marriage bed to the back seats of parked cars to the darkest recesses of the internet, the smirkingly merciless Samantha will demonstrate the depths of her illicit passions, and the supremacy of her will.
Includes: female domination, anal sex, oral sex, sex club scenes, straight sex, group sex, blackmail, humiliation, and blindfolds.
Tom raised his head from his wife’s full, comforting bosom and looked up at her in sudden uncertainty. “P-p-pay my debt?” he blinked nervously. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Samantha, her voice a trifle shaky and yet very determined, biting her lip as she rubbed herself more assertively, “that once I let Mike use me, then instead of being in debt to him, you’ll be in debt to me.”
“B-b-but—” Tugging absently, automatically at the meat of his wife’s engorged nipples, Tom could only blink back confusedly as she masturbated before him. For what she had said— Why, it made no sense! He could not possibly have heard her correctly. Could he?
Eyes half-lidded, Samantha smiled crookedly. “Why, you didn’t think I’d forgotten your bet, did you, honey?” She gave an ironically syrupy-sweet little smile. “You bet your wife on a poker hand, didn’t you?” Her enigmatic green eyes hardened then, however. “Didn’t you, big man?”
Tom gulped, abashed. “Y-yes,” he admitted miserably. “I’m sorry, honey,” he told her again, shaking his head. “I just wasn’t—”
“But I would hate for anyone to think, though,” she said, icily remonstrative, “that I had made you welsh on a promise.”
He swallowed. His stomach did a queasy flip-flop as he goggled uncertainly up at the seemingly unfamiliar wife who glowed commandingly above him, her cheeks betrayingly warm even as she looked down so cool and disdainful. And yet through it all, despite the almost threatening look in those chiseled emerald orbs, he could hear her fingertips swirling purposefully through the top of her vagina. Why, she would not keep touching herself like that if she were truly angry, would she? he asked himself in attempted reasonableness.
God, and the smell of her… Always before, that sharp, fiercely womanly scent had set him rigid with desire, but now he was scared suddenly, his penis shriveled up so tiny and confused. It made no sense, of course. If his wife was excited, after all, then she was warm and happy, and so was he. Except she was hinting about something improper and disgusting, and yet instead of deflating her arousal, what she implied seemed instead to intensify it somehow.
“You mean…” Tom squirmed, trying to convince himself that he must be misunderstanding her somehow. It was one thing to joke a little, of course, and yet his own dear wife would not actually—actually—actually— He bit his lip nervously. “I mean, you w-w-wouldn’t really—”
“Do they really look at me?” she interrupted quietly, her face warm. “Your friends, I mean?”
Tom blinked, suddenly pushed back to simple, earnest truthfulness, despite the precariousness of a situation he did not dare quite understand. “Baby,” he said slowly, “don’t you know how you turn heads wherever we go?”
“I do?” she whispered, defenselessly somehow.
“You’ve really never seen anybody watch you jiggle?” asked Tom in faint wonderment. “God, honey…”
Samantha was always rather self-conscious about her appearance, and though she was indeed solidly built, that flesh was in good proportion, most womanly. Men did indeed gawk—he had seen it countless times, a little jealous as he did so and yet proud, too, all at once. She had a very full bosom, of course, and while her waist may have been a bit thick, it seemed to fit with her wide hips and cushy bottom, and those heavy thighs that veritably begged to be parted to reveal the thick-lipped, scratchy-soft, fishily fragrant treasure beneath the comfortably soft belly—
He shook his head. “Honey, you’re the kind of girl that makes guys jerk off. I’ve seen that look in their eyes.”
“Really?” she wondered softly.
“Mm hmm,” Tom sighed, pausing to lick briefly at the undersides of the fat nipples he squeezed through his circled thumbs and forefingers. “Baby, you should have—” He swallowed, then continued quietly, “You should have seen those guys’ faces when Mike took the bet last night.”
Her eyes gleamed behind her lowered lashes, bright and excited.
“You just can’t imagine their—their hunger,” Tom affirmed with quiet emphasis.
“Tell me,” she whispered.
Tom hesitated. “I told you I had to convince ’em to take the bet, right? I guess they knew I wasn’t really serious about it—about the chance of losing, I mean.” He shrugged good-naturedly, then commenced squeezing her mammaries once more. “So what I had to do was—”
“What?” Biting her lip, she touched herself as he watched. “Please, honey,” she begged, “tell me!”
Tom smiled at being able to tell her, knowing at last that she really wouldn’t be angry with him. “I told them how good it was to have you,” he said deliberately.
“Tom…” she replied slowly, trying to maintain some face-saving façade of modesty—and yet the thickened nipples that he manhandled, he could not help but notice, stayed as crinkled and excited as ever.
“I told them that once I stick my dick in you, you always just juice up like a whore.” His eyes blazed. “I said how the best time to have you is when you’re not thinking about it first—how I can just strip your panties off and mount you, and see that look in your eyes that shows how much my need flatters you. You’re still a little dry when I put my cockhead in, so tight, but then I just give a push, and by the time I’ve sunk balls-deep, you’re all lubed up. I told ’em that if I didn’t like playing with you so much, I’d just come in half a dozen strokes.”
Samantha gazed up from under her lowered lashes, her own excitement feeding off of his.
“I said that what was really fun, though, was to work you over first,” he said mischievously. “I told them all how good it felt to just grab these big titties and tug at ’em until you couldn’t take any more.” For emphasis he gave those sensitive peaks a sudden double-handed yank that took her breath away. “And I told them that once you’d had your naughty boobs squeezed and pinched and sucked, your cunt would open up like a flower, all wet and shiny and pink, ready for anything.” Grinning, he bundled her nipples together and sucked at her, hard, then pulled his mouth off with a noisy, relishing smack. “’Cause it’s true, isn’t it, babe?” he teased her. “Isn’t it?”
“Mm hmm,” she replied softly, squirming as her fingers writhed within her panties.
“You should have seen their faces,” he said again. “They were so horny, baby! Some of ’em—why, with some…” He hesitated, then forced out, “I could see they had great big hard-ons in their pants just from thinking about you, Samantha—they couldn’t hide it—and I knew that they’d go home and play with themselves. Or maybe some would hurry home to their girlfriends or their wives, climb into bed without a word, and just fuck ’em like animals, while the girls woke slowly—sleepy, confused, and suddenly just full of cock—without any idea of why the guys needed it so bad.” He grinned fiercely. “That’s what you do to guys, sweetie.”
“Well,” she admitted softly, at last, “that’s the kind of talk that makes a girl want to frig off, too.” She bit her lip. “To feel pretty and desired, to know that men want to look at you and touch you.”
Gazing up at her adoringly, he handled her flesh more purposefully, plucking at her engorged nipples, lifting her big titties by those tender peaks. He really made her feel it, and she shivered wordlessly to his attentions for a long moment.
Finally, Samantha spoke again. “I really will pay your debt, sweetie,” she whispered. “If you want me to.”
Licking his lips uncertainly, Tom watched his wife masturbate. She was so beautiful, serene and yet so sensually agitated at the same time. What she proposed now, apparently in all seriousness—what he himself had merely joked about previously—made him feel very strange inside. It was perverse, it was wrong, it was unnatural…and yet it was somehow wildly arousing at the same time. No husband would want to share his own beloved wife with another man. And yet…