Samson & The Delilahs

NOTE: For those of you joining us for the first time, the following story is an excerpt from Rubirosa's series "C*ck Star." The mammoth work of erotica explores the private life of a public figure.

In the early 2020's, SAMSON became America's first male erotic superstar. His porn videos garnered billions of views and allowed the celebrity stud to penetrate mainstream culture with a social media following as impressive as his manhood.

However, our hero's road to stardom was not always easy. It could get hard. Very hard. Today's episode focuses upon the lusty rogue's formative years as a strip club bouncer and championship bodybuilder when the girls on Tinder still knew him as LANCE LEO.

Lance has just turned 19. The blue-collar Casanova lives in the hamlet of Peoria, IL with his stripper girlfriend SANDRA KONG. Like any young couple, they have issues. But their passion for sexual adventurism bonds them at the crotch. Hand in hand, the swinging soulmates dive headlong into a Rust Belt demimonde of cam girls, burlesque dancers, and other bisexual bombshells, embarking upon a sensual odyssey from which they will never return....

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Samson And The Delilahs

8pm Sunday

No Cover Charge!

So read the signboard on wheels in front of Gazonga's Roadhouse & Cabaret. A flashing arrow pointed to a squat one-story building in the gravel parking lot. The place did not look like much but rock'n'roll history was about to be made there tonight. At least, the band hoped it might. This would be their first gig ever.

Inside, the joint was packed. College kids jockeyed for position around the stage. Bikers and metalheads hung out by the bar. The lights went down. The cheers went UP.

A loud bass note thrummed through the murky interiors of the club. Kagney took a step forward into the spotlight. She had played in a couple bar bands for free beer. While awaiting imminent fame and fortune, the buxom redhead day jobbed as a stripper. She made fucktons of cash and eventually got promoted to club manager. The owner was in rehab and let her run the place with minimal interference as long as it turned a profit. Accordingly, Kags had zero arms to twist in transforming Gazonga's into a concert venue for the night.

The guitar cut through the bass line like a buzzsaw. The spotlight moved to Dredd Hott. She had more stage experience than the rest of the band combined. Like Kagney, Ms. Hott danced for her day job. However, the alt-babe became Insta-famous and set up an insanely lucrative side hustle as a camgirl. Dredd was the entire package. She looked every inch the rock star from her pink and white dreadlocks down to her thigh-high vinyl boots. And while the metal trolls wrote her off as a pretty face on social media, Hott honed her guitar skills for a decade, out-shredding the biggest boys in the biz.

DONK! DONK! DONK! A pounding cowbell joined the mix. Sandra Kong played the drums. Like her bandmates, she stripped. The locals knew her by the stage name of "Queen Kong." Sandra considered herself more of a hobbyist than a musician but it felt damn good being up there right then. While the former high-school valedictorian had done a couple semesters of jazz drumming as an extracurricular, the band's hard rock sound required a much heavier, primal beat. She hammered on those drums with startling intensity. The pounding felt cathartic. Sandra's veins ran with tiger blood and she needed an outlet for her aggression, especially when the source of her teenage angst stood only ten feet away.

Lance bounded onto the stage, grabbed the mic stand with one hand, and his baritone thundered through the PA system.

"Heartbreaker, soul shaker..."

The crowd went mad. At 19, Lance Leo was already a legend. The teenage superstud lived a life other dudes could only dream of.

If you knew him from high school, Lance was the star quarterback who seduced every member of the varsity cheerleading squad in a single semester. After his team won the state championship, Leo entertained many offers to play football at Big 10 Schools. Unfortunately, the major league player got expelled senior year after getting caught in a raucous threesome with two faculty members. Bev Johnson was a gym instructor. Katie Marx taught biology. He was already 18 and legal but the disciplinary board ruled the straight-F student received passing grades from his teachers in exchange for sex.

If you knew him from the strip club, Lance was the six-and-a-half foot tall bouncer that carded customers at the door. The bodybuilding playboy invariably wore a Motley Crue tank top that showed off a pair of guns larger than your head. You didn't fuck around in there, especially not with the girls on stage. The rakish brute dated the headline dancer Queen Kong who invited other performers at the club to sleep with them.

If you knew him from Bradley University, Lance was the male stripper that danced at sorority parties. The townie laid half the female student body before getting banned from campus for beating up three no-neck frat boys from Alpha Gamma. He also streaked across the quad on a dare but that incident happened on a different night.

If you knew him from PornHub, Lance was the porn star that nailed the hottest camgirls on the planet. He performed under the pseudonym 'Samson" but everyone in Peoria knew who he was. Unlike most of the overproduced crap that came from the commercial studios, Samson's videos were 100% real and raw. They all featured stunning foxes experiencing very intense orgasms at the hands of a sexual virtuoso with a ten-and-a-half inch cock.

By now, you probably detected a pattern in the many guises of Lance Leo, or 'Samson' as some now called him. The wildman embraced an ultra-hedonistic lifestyle that read like a back issue of Penthouse Forum. While 'rock musician' could have been just another iteration of the dilettante's oversexed persona, Lance possessed a surprisingly powerful voice as well as the perfect 'fuck you' attitude to front a heavy metal band. The audience avidly followed Samson's moves as the born performer karate kicked and split jumped his way around the stage with gleeful exuberance.

"Now you're messin' with..." Lance screamed out the falsetto chorus. "A SON OF A BITCH!!!" Without even thinking, he thrust his pelvis to the beat of the song, flaunting the provocative bulge in his skintight leather pants. The organ ran down the inseam of his left pant leg with the subtlety of a lead pipe.

Some were impressed. Others were not.

"What a clown," Paulie told his girlfriend. "He must have stuffed an entire roll of toilet paper down his pants."

Melissa didn't answer her playa-hater boyfriend. His fragile ego wouldn't be able to handle the undeniable truth that dangled between Samson's thighs. The only reason Paulie wanted to go to the concert tonight was because Dredd Hott was playing. Jake had a famous YouTube channel and once hired her to appear in one of his stupid prank videos. He had met the Insta-model because she got all of her ink at Melissa's tattoo parlor and the women sometimes shared a doobie after the shop closed. So, in the murk of his monkey brain, her boyfriend probably figured he could score a threesome because both of them were bi. That was so not happening...

Truth be told, Paulie wasn't the only one who hadn't come for the music. The guys in the audience lusted after the female members. And the girls lusted after Samson's member. The lead singer's gigantic penis had become an urban legend around Peoria. So it seemed only fitting that the band closed with a cover of Aerosmith's "Big Ten Inch Record."

I cover her with kisses

And when we're in a lover's clinch

She gets all excited

When she begs for my big ten inch

Record of a band that plays the blues

Well a band that plays the blues

She just love my big ten inch

Record of her favorite blues

The ladies in the audience chuckled at the double-entendre. While the song sounded goofy coming from the lips of Steven Tyler, Samson's rendition made it ironically autobiographical.

An impressive thunder of applause rocked through the club as they finished the number. As soon as the lights went up, Paulie walked past his girlfriend and made a beeline for the stage. He closed in on Dredd even before she had a chance to unstrap her guitar.

"Yo, Dredd," called out Jake. "What up? What up?"

"Hi, ummm... Jake, right?" answered Dredd in a tone somewhere between apathetic and withering.

"So when are we gonna do another video together? My last one fucking broke TikTok!"

"I didn't know TikTok was broken," she deadpanned. "Did it get fixed yet?"

Dredd broke eye contact and focused on packing up her gear, hoping against hope this dude would figure out how to get lost. However, he pitched her on late-night drinks at his place so they could have 'a chat' about his next video. Based on his leer, she knew exactly where that would head. Thankfully, Lance interrupted their clunker of a conversation.

"Hey, babe," he smiled. "You coming to the jam session tonight?"

"I'm still thinking about it," she flirted. Lance leaned down and whispered something in her ear that made her smile. Meanwhile, Paulie just stood there like a doofus. Notably, the elevated stage put Samson's crotch at eye-level, offering explicit proof that his veined python was more than a sock.

"Yo, Dredd," the D-list celeb crowed. "You want to join the Paulie Jake movement? Or you gonna hang with that Mr. Universe wannabe?"

"I'm gonna pass on those drinks," Dredd told Jake. "Actually, make that a hard pass."

Lance glared down at Paulie. The pretty boy had a boxer's physique but guys like him were 90% bravado. An experienced bouncer could beat the crap out of him in his sleep. Dredd shook her head as if to say "Don't waste your time on that loser."

"Dude," Lance finally told him. "Stop staring at my junk. It creeps me out." With that, he walked off with a chuckle.

"Fuckin' skank," Paulie muttered to Dredd before stomping off. Melissa stood at the bar, waiting for her Cosmo.

"Let's bust this joint," her boyfriend ordered. "Who wants to hang in a podunk strip club?"

"I just ordered a drink," Melissa countered.

"Drinks at my place. C'mon."

Paulie grabbed her arm and led her out into the parking lot. Melissa seethed with anger. Dating a YouTube star had its perks but they were well on their way to splitsville. So she made a spot decision.

"Let go of my arm," she told him.

"Huh?"

"I've got a drink waiting for me inside. I'm going back."

"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" he exploded, yanking her by the arm towards his Porsche.

Melissa wrenched her arm out of his grasp and marched back towards the club. Before Paulie could chase after her, a tall lithe figure stepped out of the shadows and blocked his path.

"Not sure if you got the memo," the female stranger told him. "But I believe the lady said 'no.''"

The woman wore a crop top and cut-off jeans that showed off her long sinuous limbs. She did not look like UFC material but definitely oozed a "don't mess with me" vibe.

"Who the fuck are you?" snarled Paulie.

"I'm the one who provides sensitivity training around here."

"Try me, bitch," Paulie retorted. The stranger promptly lunged forward with a roundhouse kick that struck him in the side of the head. The blow knocked Paulie onto his ass.

"Now regarding that training," she told him. "Your head may be feeling acute sensitivity in the morning."

By the time Paulie got up, a couple people from the club had wandered outside to check out the action. Someone took out their cell phone. For a social media icon like Paulie, that was worse than pulling a gun. If any part of this incident got caught on tape, his career would go up in a puff of digital smoke. Paulie hopped in his Porsche and screeched out of the parking lot.

"C'mon," the stranger told her. "You got a drink waiting for you at the bar."

TWO MINUTES LATER

"Who are you?" Melissa asked between sips of her Cosmo.

"The patrons know me as Queen Kong but just call me Sandra."

"You dance here?"

"I also play drums in the band."

"So you know Dredd Hott then?"

"Yup."

"I did a lot of her ink."

"Cool. Maybe we all can hang sometime."

"Yeah, Dredd something about a jam session tonight."

"She invited you?" chuckled Sandra with a hint of surprise.

"Not exactly. Why?"

"You staring at my tits?" Sandra asked out of the blue, dodging Melissa's question by posing one of her own.

"Why, no!" she answered defensively. "OK, sort of."

"I'm used to it," Sandra reassured her. "I make a living off dudes gawking at them."

"Wow, they must be a..."

"Triple D. I had to wear two sports bras to keep them from bouncing in my face when I drummed tonight."

"Ever thought of getting them reduced?"

"Nah, I yam what I yam."

"OK, Popeye."

"What about you? Do you know who you are?"

"That's a bit of an open-ended question."

"Then let me narrow it down for you. You wanna touch them?"

"Yeah," Melissa nodded, upping the ante. Her new friend looked smoking hot and did not beat around the bush. She dug her style

Sandra gently grabbed Mel's wrist and laid her palm on the underside of her breast. Melissa hefted the fleshy boulder. It felt heavy in her hand. And delectably supple. This was no implant. Melissa inked many strippers but never met one with such big naturals.

She looked up at Sandra. Her eyes sparkled. The vamp wore a provocative smile that dared you to kiss her. Still, Melissa hesitated. She never made out with a girl in the middle of a packed bar. So Sandra took the initiative. She leaned forward on her barstool and gave her a big wet smooch on the mouth.

"You're a little forward," Melissa tut-tutted.

"But you had your hand on my breast," Sandra shot back with a smile before resuming the kiss.

Naturally, their girl-girl canoodling attracted not a few prying eyes around the club. Melissa instinctively pulled back a bit.

"Let's continue this in the VIP Room," Sandra whispered in her ear.

"The what?"

"The VIP. Haven't you been to a strip club before?"

"Not really."

"Then let me give you the grand tour." Sandra announced and took her by the hand. "And maybe I'll throw in a free lap dance."

It wasn't much of a tour. Sandra led her right back through the beaded curtain of the VIP room. They entered a stall at the end of the corridor. The space vibed sleazy chic, everything covered in red velvet and mirrors.

"Have a seat," Sandra told her, pointing to the comfy couch in the corner. Melissa obliged. The stripper took a step back to admire her new acquaintance. Mel wore her dyed blue-black hair in a cute Bettie Page. She had pale skin that really made her ruby red lipstick pop. As one would expect of a tattoo artist, her whole body was heavily inked with flowers and dragons. She had the 'bad girl' look down cold. However, Sandra remained unintimidated. Melissa talked the talk. Queen Kong walked the walk.

Almost on cue, "Maneater" from Nelly Furtado seeped in from the barroom PA which gave Sandra a soundtrack for her performance. Without missing a beat, Queen Kong straddled the tattoo girl's thighs and began to bump and grind the hell out of her. While madly gyrating her hips, Sandra pulled off her crop top and tossed it over her shoulder. Underneath, she wore a pink compression sports bra. That came off next to reveal... A second sports bra!

Sandra had not been lying about needing to wear two bras. The second one struggled to contain her jiggling boobage. It clearly did not provide adequate support. So when she tore that one off, Melissa beheld the mother of all titty drops. Freed of their bondage, Sandra's knockers almost exploded from her chest. While she already looked buxom in two high-compression sports bras, the garments held back a bounty of flesh in their double-stitched lycra.

If Jessica Rabbit had come to life, she still would not have been able to out-vamp Queen Kong. Sandra had an incredibly shapely and sexy figure. Her massive bust gave a middle finger to the laws of gravity.

"Oh, my God!" squealed Melissa. "Look at you. You're like Ms. Impossible!"

Before she could gush further, Sandra buried Mel's face in her more-than-ample cleavage. Just like Kong anticipated, her new friend loved the lap dance. She probably could bang Melissa right in the VIP if things heated up a few more degrees. However, a knock on the door put a pause on their girlfun.

"Yessss..." Sandra drawled sarcastically.

Melissa glanced over her shoulder to find no one other than SAMSON in the doorway. Her pulse spiked. Her heart thumped. She went all tingly and fluttery, her emotions tangled up in a knot that made her stomach clench tight. After all, Mel just got caught by a stranger in the middle of a lap dance. And to make matters even more blushworthy, that stranger happened to be a MALE SEX GOD.

Melissa had been one of the 7 million people that saw Samson's video with Dredd Hott on PornHub. She had stumbled upon it one morning after Paulie accidentally left open a browser tab on his laptop from the night before. Mel rarely looked at porn but her curiosity about Dredd's X-rated film career got the better of her. However, she watched the entire video mostly because of her dashing co-star.

The first thing that struck her was the expression he wore, something between a sneer and a smirk. That look betrayed a certain arrogance but did not detract from his impossibly handsome visage, the likes of which could only belong to that rarest of ladykillers... A man who could take whatever he wanted from a woman and make her love him for it.

Melissa unconsciously began to finger herself as she watched. The lovers looked so beautiful in their shiny coat of sweat, loudly grunting and moaning as they mated. The hour long video played out like a feverish wet dream, the way Dredd squirmed in delight, losing herself completely, the gouts of girlcum that squirted out of her pussy each time she climaxed. And to say nothing of Samson's almost superhuman virility. He delivered four separate cumshots on camera. And instead of allowing himself to cool down after an orgasm, he just repositioned her and buried himself right back into the pink, eliciting surprised and depraved moans from his partner.

Even more impressive, Samson held none other than Dredd Hott in his thrall. Based on their chats at the tattoo parlor, Melissa knew the famous cam girl only did porn shoots for the money. Dredd complained how she never got her rocks off with a male actor. The self-confessed "size queen" never found a guy that measured up to her standards. Melissa could sympathize. Paulie also fell short. But, as for Samson, one of the comments on his video summed him up perfectly: "Being fucked like this will change you. No one will ever be able to compare."

Truth be told, Melissa felt her panties go a little damp after watching him in concert tonight. But now her insides almost began to gush as he stood just five feet away from him in the VIP lounge. Up close and personal, she could not get over his utter massiveness. Samson truly appeared larger than life, standing six-and-a-half feet tall with a musclebound torso that filled the entire doorway. He had not bothered to put on a shirt since his performance. A guy like him looked better without one.

Seeing Mel checking him out, that smug grin of his passed across his face for a moment. However, he did not ogle her back.

"Hey, babe," he said to Sandra. "You coming to the jam session tonight?"

"Sure, I'll catch up with you later," she answered.

"Cool. See ya."

With that, he spun on his heel and shut the door to give the women their privacy back.

"Who was that?" asked Melissa disingenuously.