Yes, Sam wants her pound of flesh.

It is bad enough losing the wager, but your Republican opponent's insufferable arrogant grin of superiority makes it almost unbearable. “Why are the hot one's always evil.” You think to yourself.

Being a man of your word, however, you have ****. She won fare and square, and now you have to pay up. With a resigned sigh you pull your tucked shirt out from your pants and strip it off.

The sight of your bare chest of course brings commentary from your buxom tormentor. “Not bad Lib, not bad.” She chuckles, “Acceptable definition on your abs and pecs, but your arms could use a bit more work.”

Ignoring her mocking appraisal you bend over and untie your sneakers and take off your socks. “Let's see that ass, loser.” She jeers, egging you on.

As you begin to unbuckle your belt you feel your manhood begin to swell. Pausing for a bit, you desperately try to focus your mind away from thoughts of her pornstar like figure, or the deep feminine tone of her seductive voice, and instead on your campaign and how she is the enemy.

“Trying to stall?” Sam has no patience for your delay, “That is going to cost you.” Ominously she takes her cell phone from her sweat pant's pocket.

“Wait just one minute.” You object. “That wasn't part of the wager!”

“Nor was it excluded.” The busty businesswoman slyly retorts. “Lets play another game. Drop your pants and if you can control yourself then I will put the camera away. If you get 'excited,' well then aren't you just really asking for it?”

You don't like the idea of your opponent having pictures of you in your skives, but if she tried to use them, you reason, she might implicate herself. Besides, you're confident of your maturity and self control. Dropping your pants to the driveway and stepping out of them, you stand before her only in your underpants.

With devilish intent in her eyes Sam struts towards you with the walk of a stripper on the catwalk. Standing within inches of you so can smell the faint beauty of her perfume that matches the summer morning, the vile temptress lifts up a single finger and places it on your bare chest. Seductively she slowly drags the tip of her digit down your left pectoral muscle. Staring into your eyes she asks in a clearly false, but oh so seductive voice, “Can you control yourself, Lib?” With a cocky gaze, her eyes lock on to yours, she confidently announces her victory without even first checking, “I don't think so.” Brazenly she then slowly lowers her eyes, her finger still on your chest, to inspect the massive bulge that is now jutting out from your underpants.

“Lost again, little man.” She announces as her eyes look into yours with malicious intent. Taking a few steps back Sam lets her finger drag and then fall from your chest downward to your underpant covered erection. Cruelly, just before the tip of her finger would have touched your bulge, she pulls up and steps out of reach. “I will give you this.” She adds lifting her camera phone into position, “I really shouldn't use the world 'little.'” And clicks on the video capturing app.

This is the price for losing, you have to stand half naked with your arms at your side, your erection raging for the camera.

“You know.” Sam's fiendish commentary begins . . .

“If you would put a little more time in the gym, you might be able to find a job as a male model . . .”

“Its not like you could make a living using your brain . . .” She takes a few stills.

“You will certainly have a enough time after the November election, or should I say erection.”

Finally, you break your silence. “Can I just go get the signs?” You fake a calm, disinterested voice, trying to cover the anger and complete arousal you feel for the wicked, yet oh so sexy, Republican.

“Not enjoying yourself, Lib?”

“No, not at all.” You answer solely from your intellect.

Looking at your underpants Sam with great amusement states, “All evidence to the contrary.”

That evil smirk is just too much, you clench your fists in ire as your base desires betray you. As if on cue, your dick involuntarily twitches, as if earning for release.

“Thing's got a mind of its own it seems.” Samantha continues your torment, but soon her eyes go wide. “You have to be kidding me!” The cruel redhead bursts out into loud laughter as a bit of pre-cum squirts out of you, leaving a visible wet spot at the tip of your bulge.

“Got some stamina issues there don't you . . ” She laughs long and hard.

“Didn't your campaign manager, or least your father, tell you that slow and steady wins the race . . .” She zooms in with her phone.

“I hope you don't shoot as many blanks with that thing as you do in basketball.”

After snapping a few more stills Sam finally turns off her phone. “Ok, Lib, that was very entertaining. You better go 'FETCH' 'MY' signs from your garage before you explode.”

“Unless,” she gives you one last wicked jab, “you want to take a second and relieve yourself first.”