Thank you all for participating in Choose Your Own Adventure Erotica! The most popular choice was:
**A.) Continue to seduce him with the drugged champaign**
You can find the previous adventures here: [part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/sxj5kp/new_choose_your_own_adventure_hostage_situation/) [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/sydck3/new_choose_your_own_adventure_erotica_hostage/) [part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/t018nw/new_choose_your_own_adventure_erotica_hostage/)
Samantha sees the gunman is distressed, and notices he has removed the grenade vest and rifle, presumably to be more comfortable while he poops. He is in the middle of pinching out a fat loaf, unable to move lest he get doo doo on himself. He is stuck, and at the mercy of the beautiful brunet goddess Samantha.
“Don’t worry honey.” Samantha assures the gunman, knowing that even if she did get to the gun, or vest, she doesn’t have what it takes to kill a man. She’s a lover, not a fighter… and if you asked any of her past hookups, she’s an incredible lover. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to fuck you.”
Taken off guard, and unable to deny how turned on he is by the prospect of making love to this beautiful, greased up specimen of beauty, the gunman masks his amorous feelings with the standard tough guy façade. “Hold on there sugar *grunts out poop* Don’t expect me to fall for this femme fatal, honey pot bullshit. You don’t go through three divorces and not learn a thing or two about the duplicitous nature of the feminine selfdom.”
Impressed by his use of vocabulary, Samantha senses a challenge. She is weary to tangle with a madman, but she literally caught him with his pants down. Samantha feels most in control when a man’s pants are down.
“Three divorces huh? Seems like the problem might be you my friend.” Samantha continues to stride seductively towards the gunman. “I might posit, it’s not your exes who wronged you, but your projected Anima put upon these women.”
“Interesting… I believe it was Jung *grunts* who also said *the most masculine man needs women, and he is consequently their slave. Become a woman yourself, and you will be saved from slavery to woman…”* the gunman says, finishing his dookie and leaning back in satisfaction. “So I’ll concede to your point, perhaps I need to connect with the woman inside, before I can truly connect with someone else.”
Stunned by the incredible vulnerability of the gunman, Samantha feels suddenly closer to him. She sees his flaws as human, not deviant. She considers whether he is actually in the throws of psychosis as Corey suggested. She also notices, without the vest and rifle, his muscular frame and the rugged tenderness of his eyes. His hair is gray, but his face weathered and handsome. He reminds her of the heroes she used to watch with her father before he was locked up. Paul Newman. Burt Reynold. Tom Selleck.
“That was beautiful.” Samantha swoons. Knowing better, she sets down the drugged champaign.
Samantha justifies to herself *”I need to seduce him first… make love to him… earn his trust. Then he will be more likely to drink the champaign”* still feeling very much in control, knowing better while ignoring the voice in her head telling her to stop. She is drawn to this man. She needs to feel closer to him.
Samantha grabs a pack of baby wipes from the shelf and closes the distance between her and the gunman. She sees the not-so-subtle imprint of his penis under his gray sleeveless undershirt. He wasn’t fully hard. Samantha was going to change that.
Samantha straddles him as he sits atop the bucket. Her oil-soaked body pressed up against his, leaving breast-sized oil stains on this undershirt. She reaches around him, feeling his muscular back and chest. She wipes his ass with a baby wipe. Again… and again. All clean.
The gunman rises from his bucket. Pants down, holding the tall, elegant, dignified yet oily Samantha in his ripped biceps. Samantha tears his shirt open exposing his chiseled chest. The gunman sets Samantha, who is panting with sexual anticipation, down on a stack of Bud Light cases. He rips his shirt clean off, and steps out of his cargo fatigues. He is wearing nothing but combat boots. His cock is firm, but not entirely hard. Samantha likes this. It means she has work to do.
The gunman kneels down, spreads Samantha’s legs, and proceeds to lick the inside of her thigh, leading towards her shaved box. His tongue flitters on her clit, gentle, warm, soft. With every breath, Samantha grows warmer and wetter. She runs her fingers through his silver hair and digs her nails into his scalp. The danger, the connection, the lust. Samantha can’t recall a time when she’s been this wet.
The gunman grabs her waist, lifting her up, and sliding her down his body. Dick fully erect, he slides inside her perfectly. It fits, perfectly. Samantha groans with pleasant delight. His cocks feels like it was custom made for her. It hits all the spots, fills her up in all the best ways. She begins to bounce up. Down. Up. Down. Somehow his dick keeps finding new places to hide inside of her.
While pumping, the gunman begins to jog down the front of the supermarket. Samantha’s oil has almost entirely rubbed onto the gunman. The jog turns into a sprint, and the gunman dives onto the tile floor while protecting Samantha. He slides along like a Slip-and-Slide. He spins around and is on top of Samantha. The tile floor is surprisingly warm and comfortable. He begins thrusting, each motion scoots the couple along the floor and brings Samantha closer to climax.
They slide down the dairy aisle, bouncing off the shelves like bumper bowling. They crash into the dairy case, spilling whole milk everywhere. Slipping around like two worms, they never break penetration. The cold milk shocks the system, but quickly warms. Samantha grabs a carton of eggs and begins smashing them on his head one by one. The gunman is huffing, puffing, and starts making soft honking noises. Like a duck.
Samantha slides and ends up on top. Her favorite. She is staring deep into his cobalt eyes, the two are connected on a profound sexual and emotional level. She can feel every inch of him inside her. No more, no less. The orgasm is mounting, building with each movement, closer… closer… its here… its here.
“OOOOOHHHH MYYYY GOOODDDD!”
Samantha’s pleasure is so intense it can only be described as a spiritual experience. She looks down and sees herself fucking the gunman as she floats above the material realm.
Her pussy is getting absolutely blown out.
She snaps back into her body in time for the gunman to pull out and emit a loud donkey-like noise. He is blasting an obscene load on Samantha’s flush, oily asshole. The two collapse into each others arms.
***Meanwhile back at the storage room…***
“What the fuck is going on out there?” Corey asks, hearing the gunman’s primal ejaculation. “Are they fucking?”
“That’s the sound of a man who was bonded, and has just been set free.” remarks the old man.
“I’ll say” Corey agrees “And sounds like they’re going for round two!”
Thinking fast, Corey sees an opportunity to free one of the hostages. He looks to the mother and child.
“While they are fucking, I think we can get you and your child out of here. They will be distracted. You can push aside the shopping carts at the back exit and the shooter won’t be able to hear you.”
The mother agrees, and the team helps her and her child crawl through the vent. They make for the back exit and carefully shift the noisy shopping carts enough to reach the door. Corey was right. Were the gunman not digging out Samantha, he would have certainly noticed the noise and come through shooting. Nonetheless, the mother and child are able to escape to freedom, thanks to Corey’s quick thinking.
***. . . . . . . . . .***
The gunman and Samantha are cuddled on the floor of the cookout supply aisle. Wrapped in beach towels and smoking. A starter log is burning in a bucket.
“I’ve never… wow.” Sighs Samantha. “Wow.”
“I do say, I’ve never been more in touch with the world as I was in that moment.” The gunman reflects.
“You just broke me off repeatedly and I don’t even know your name.” Samantha chuckles as she takes a drag from her cigarette.
“Jim. My name is Jim.”
“I guess I should ask, what is it exactly you’re doing here Jim? Not that it matters.” Samantha inquires.
“My daughter. She’s on her deathbed. 13 years old. She needs a kidney. We had one all lined up, then some rich banker ex-pat from Panama donates a wing to the hospital. All of a sudden he’s bumped to the top of the list. Some old scumbag who made his money selling guns to Noriega in the 70’s. If that kidney makes it onto a flight to Panama, my daughter is good as dead.” he draws from his cigarette, watching the ember glow. “This was my only hope to get someone to listen.”
“That is so brave.” Samantha swoons. “I want to help you. Please. I need to help you.”
“I’m a good man Samantha. I don’t want to hurt any of you. I was acting crazy to scare you all from trying anything that would ruin my chances at saving my daughter.” Jim admits.
“Well the hostages are scheming to stop you. Especially that Corey guy. He thinks he’s John McClain or something.” Samantha snickers. “We just need to keep them busy and distracted until your demands are met. I have just the thing: sexual torture.”
“Sexual torture?”
“Sexual torture. You know that movie *Saw*? Like that, but sex stuff. Everyone in that room is horny as fuck. The manager wanted to suck you off and stick a pill up your ass for fucks sake. We’re not going to actually hurt anyone. You know, just keep them busy.”
“I like it.” Jim says “What did you have in mind?”
**WHICH ONE WILL YOU CHOOSE?**
a.) They have to listen to the old man talk about eating pussy in the 1940’s for two hours straight. If he stops, or anyone falls asleep, everyone dies.
b.) 69 racing. Two people are selected and they have run around the supermarket in circles while 69ing. If a team cums, they win, otherwise the last team standing wins, the others are killed.
c.) We pack them into the meat freezer. The men have to stay hard while the women stack different frozen vegetable package on their dicks. If you go soft, you die.
d.) One of the women is gagged. The team has two hours to make her squirt without her being able to tell them what feels good. If they fail, they all die.
**Sound off in the comments! I will write the most popular choice as the next installment of this sexy adventure!**
**Up vote for more engagement**
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/t1o0t0/new_choose_your_own_adventure_erotica_hostage
B, I guess?
C
This is ridiculous, thank you.
D.
D