Roscoe's Capitulation
Copyright© 2011 by Fast Eddy
Chapter 1
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Roscoe loses his wife. The author wishes to thank Falconer for his assistance in proofreading this story.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Rape Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity BDSM Humiliation Torture Oral Sex Petting Leg Fetish Caution
Roscoe was a jerk. He was a show off and a loudmouth and every one of us at the poker table knew it. It was his turn to host our poker tournament and since he was on a winning streak, he rubbed our losses in at every opportunity. Whenever he was blessed with a winning hand he would make an outlandish bet to watch us guys fold. It seemed like whenever one of us had a bet able hand he would ultimately win. Then gloat for the next half hour to the loser's embarrassment.
Me, I was a car collector and had arrived in my pride and joy, a vintage 1965 427 cobra roadster S/C that was original and shiny as new. The guys ribbed me about it but I insisted that it was not a replica, but the real thing, actually one of thirty one bodies imported from AC and built by Carroll Shelby. They knew that I wouldn't part with it, so they made offers to buy it from me constantly. Hell, it was worth well over a million dollars on its worst day!
Roscoe was needling me, trying to get me to put up my car for a stupid hand of poker. I knew better than to fall in that well, so I kept my mouth shut and continued to play.
A couple of hands later, Roscoe must have got a fantastic hand, because he kept raising the pot whenever his turn would come around, trying to encourage all of us to up the stakes. We went on until he mentioned putting my car up. He caught me just wrong as I looked at my cards to see a Royal Flush staring back at me. I asked Roscoe what could he possibly put up to compare with my car. Roscoe called his wife over to him, reached under her skirt and took off her panties. To all of our surprise, he threw them into the pot. Roscoe knew that I was attracted to his wife and would be sorely tempted to enter a bet that would include her. We all sat at the table in shock when I said that I wanted her to sit in the pot, not her panties. Let me tell you about Olivia, she is a five feet seven inches tall brunette, twenty seven years old, with steel blue eyes. She has a slender figure (32C-27-32) with rather large breasts and long smooth legs. By anyone's definition she is a trophy wife, and Roscoe liked to flaunt her too.
Olivia was serving the drinks and appetizers as was the custom at these games. I was single and had to import the beverage service when it was my turn to host these events, usually some girl that I was dating at the time. Olivia embarrassed by Roscoe's manipulation as he was obviously feeling her under her dress in front of us. Without delay he pushed her from under her dress up onto the table to sit in the pot that had accumulated. I exclaimed that I could not match his bet, having nothing that could compare with the value of his woman. Olivia lit up when I said this and Roscoe did as well, but he decided that my car would be equal in his opinion. I sat in my seat in disbelief that he would put his wife up on the block in a card game. I asked Olivia if she would go along with being the wager in this instance. Olivia sighed and said that Roscoe thought that he had the winning hand and this wasn't the first time he had used her for his high stakes follies.
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