Samson Agonistes Redux
Written by Oxartes. Oxartes is a 50 year-old modern-orthodox Israeli who writes erotica as a hobby. ‘Writing is my escape, my therapy,’ he says. For more Jewrotica writing by Oxartes, check out Babylon Nights and Vashti and the Leprechaun
Delilah sat astride Samson and held his cock, lightly tracing a finger up and down the underside. “Well?”
“Please Delilah,” he begged, trying to take his eyes off her breasts, “I can’t.”
“Ohhh, that’s too bad.” She raised herself slightly and brushed the tip of his cock over her sex, holding it just close enough to touch her pussy.
He writhed in agony.
“How can I share with you the secrets of my body when you won’t share with me the secrets of your heart? And you say that you love me?!” She slipped his glans inside her.
“Delilah…ohhh…please…I can’t.”
She slipped it out.
“No…not again. Please,” he whimpered, “It’s been over three months.”
“One month for each time you lied to me. That was cruel.”
She held his cock against her wet pussy and slowly stroked the shaft. His cock throbbed. “Well, think it over.” She started to slip him inside her again but rose up to climb off of him.
“Wait.”
Delilah turned around and prepared to ride him, facing away from him. She spread her lips and held his cock to her sex. “Yes?”
“It’s my hair.”
She plunged down on him. “Yes?”
“Cut it off, cut it off! OHHH!!!!” His body heaved in orgasm.
Samson flailed in ecstasy, shouting uncontrollably as he came inside her. Delilah stayed with him, grinning in lurid delight as she mercilessly rode his thrashing body. She held out a strand of her hair and made a scissors motion with her index and middle fingers. The Philistine spy looking in the window smiled and disappeared from view.
Delilah rode Samson until he was completely spent. He lay beneath her, moaning incoherently. When she felt his cock soften, she stopped moving, climbed off of him and cleaned herself with a rag.
“Come here Samson,” she cooed and sat down next to him. She placed his head on her thigh.
“Thank you, Delilah,” he mumbled weakly. “Thank you.”
“Shhh, go to sleep, my husband.”
He hugged her naked waist and fell fast asleep, lost in an intense post-orgasmic rush.
The Philistine came back in with a pair of scissors.
Samson stood, bound between the columns in the Temple of Dagon in Gaza. A riotous Philistine orgy was in full swing. The Philistines delighted in taunting their prisoner and in mocking his God.
“Dear God,” Samson prayed, “Remember me, I pray You, and strengthen me, I pray You, only this once, O God, that I may be this once avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes and let me die with the Philistines.”
“Oh, stop mumbling, you blind wretch!” a Philistine said, “I believe you…er…know Delilah here.”
Delilah laughed.
Samson jerked his head up. “Thank you Lord.”
“What are you thanking Him for?” Delilah asked.
“That you’re here.” Samson pushed on the columns.
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