“You know, when I started having a crush on you twenty years ago, it was just about your looks, Dolly, but after all this time, I just need to tell you, smokin’ body aside, you just rock in every way that matters.”
I’d just been able to recite a poem written about one of my sorority sisters, word for word from memory, at the Alumni Networking Night. About twenty years ago that poem was written on the guest bathroom stall wall in our sorority house. I used to go into the “guest room” when I had an out of town “guest” visit. Yes, we had a rule that no overnight boys in the bedrooms in the house, and we had roommates (at least when the roommate wasn’t sleeping over at her boyfriend’s place). Anyway, I remembered the poem, I knew the author very well, a very horny college student, and it impressed my alumni buddy Scott that I could still recite it.
And while Scott had always enjoyed keeping his eyes on me, he’s been married to the same woman the entire time I’ve known him, ever since I was barely off campus myself and went to an alumni happy hour to cultivate business contacts. I’d been married and divorced once, then married and widowed, and of late, well, if you’re reading this, you have found my website and know about my Dolly dates. Did Scott play around? He’d always been a flirt, but this was his most blatant admission to me.
I kind of liked it. If he was trying to make me wet, it was working. Here I was, all professionally gorgeous and sexy, but still presentable in a business setting, some peekaboo cleavage in an otherwise higher neckline than I usually wear socially, but sleeveless to show the wonders that yoga does in keeping my shoulders and arms sexy and sculpted, and my legs that go on and on, down into heels that were “only” four inches, which for me is practically a pair of flats. I’d seen his eyes at my cleavage cutout. We’d toasted our latest get together with Henry, our third Musketeer when it came to the local alumni club, we’d all taken turns as President and now enjoyed being the all-knowing peanut gallery while some newbies did the work of scheduling, setting up events, and we just showed up and had fun.
And flirted.
“So what made you remember that poem all these years?” Scott asked me.
“Well, Denise was an airhead, like the poem said, and I remember the night that inspired it, the unorthodox conquest of my sorority sister having inspired the guest room sex poem.
“So it was true, huh? Even the part about doing her in her sleep? Sounded kind of #MeToo-ish, like something that used to happen but nowadays is called rape.”
“No, that part was poetic license. Fully consensual. Just that the next morning she proclaimed, ‘Holy shit I can’t believe we did that!’ But Scott, there was more to the sex, but the poem left some parts out to spare Denise’s reputation.”
Scott just grinned.
Here was the poem that I told Scott as he finished his Guinness and blurted out his crush on me:
Denise was an air-headed dame
Her answer was always the same
When asked for a fuck, she’d cringe and say “yuck”
“You’d make a mess of me when you came!”
She claims she is not a prude
But never has she been nude
When asked about this, she replied with a hiss
“Huh? Are you being crude?”
And then one night in her dream
In her pants she started to cream
She awoke with the fire of lust and desire
And gasped when she saw where I’d been!
“So a twenty year crush on me, huh Scott?” I didn’t want to drop it. At a minimum, I get a really fun guy who I like a ton to say nice things about me. Or if he was interested in more than the minimum, well, my children were at their grandparents for the night anyway, I didn’t have a curfew…
Scott looked down at his shoes.
“Hey Scott, buddy, you said it, not me, you want to take it back? Did you even mean the smokin’ body line, or are you just teasing me and now don’t want to hurt my feelings for being an old broad twenty years past graduation?”
He had his thinking face on. He’d gone to both the undergrad and the law school at our mutual alma mater, and worked in between, so Scott was a dozen years older than me. I used to flirt with him and call myself “the inappropriate younger woman.” I’d seen his dick bulge when I used to say that, then when he hit his forties he became “the older man” or even “the mature, experienced man” in our teasing. But yes, even Dolly Jewel has had forty candles on her cake. So I tossed “old broad” out there.
“Dolly, the last thing you are is an old broad.” He put his now-empty glass down and steppedng in close. The pub where we gathered, owned by a fellow alum, gets loud, but it had a rooftop bar that was reserved for us this night for this event. Some moonlight, some stars, some alcohol. And Scott seemingly more interested in crossing a line we’d gone right up to repeatedly over the years but never crossed. I felt that line right under my toes, and was getting itchy to cross. But would he follow?
“I just don’t know if you’re a MILF or a Cougar, not sure where the line is for that. Well, pretty sure Cougars are later 40’s or 50 or more, I think forty two is still a MILF. I know to me you’re a young hot hard body, always have been, except unlike the Vapid girls that make Miami what it is, you’ve become the most successful business woman in South Florida, growing every one of your father’s businesses ten-fold and convincing him to go into a half dozen new ventures and made a killing there, too. And you can handle your wine, dish dirt with the boys, travel a ton so you must have friends everywhere with makes sense with your personality and smile (Oh, if he only knew what went on in my travels! *Big Wink!!)”
“Go on, enough with the details, Scott, get to the compliment already!” I teased.
I was glad I’d worn that string mini bikini panty that had just enough fabric over my coochie so that my special syrup wasn’t slowly sliding down my thighs. Scott was making me wet and Lord knows I was born horny. He had that wife who never showed up except for that fancy black tie thing we did ten years back when the University President was retiring and the endowment reached that milestone. She was lovely. And boring! What the hell were they doing together, Scott was at every tailgate and happy hour, having fun, working the room, making introductions, finding newbies who didn’t know anyone and making them feel like insiders to the point that they’d inevitably become local alumni committee members before long. Okay, so he needed to lose twenty pounds, maybe more, like that was something I hadn’t encountered in my share of great men in their fifties.
His trousers were tighter across the front than usual. Unlike younger men today who wear tight fitting clothes, Scott being the mature gentleman still wore pleated trousers, so his cock wasn’t always so publicly outlined. So if he was tenting, he had something nice in there. I suddenly realized that I really had been such good friends with Scott, I’d never imagined or thought about his cock.
He was silent. I’ve seen that moment. When they are deciding if they want to cross the line, break their vow, however you want to phrase.
I whispered in my friend’s ear, “The answer to the question you’re wondering about is ‘yes, you should’, because the answer to the other question is ‘yes, I do want to, Scott.'”
A smile took possession of his face. Now his turn to move his lips, his hot breath close to my ear. “I’ve wanted to take you to bed since the first time I met you. More and more ever since then. Wanna get out of here?”
Then he nipped my earlobe. Oh this was going to be fun.
He was married. So his place was out. It was Wednesday, the night when children of divorced parents often see their non-primary custodial parent. “You’ve got my address from the alumni list?” He nodded yes. “Give me a five minute head start, then when you arrive the gate will be open, pull around and I’ll make sure there is a place in the garage for you to park in, to keep your car private.”
By the time he arrived, I’d gotten out of my dress and was in a short black satin robe that ended just past my ass, I was barefoot, no bra, and fresh black lace panties. Waters by the bed, condoms out on the nightstand, lube within reach as well. I work fast. *Smile.
I stood behind the door from the garage and opened it when I heard him turn off the engine, and I pressed the button to lower the garage door. He walked through, and when I closed the door I saw his eyes take me in, the loosely, barely tied robe showing my panties, flat tan tummy, cleavage but no areolas just yet, and I raised my arms and pulled him in to me by the necktie and we kissed. Softly, then his lips parted when I brushed them with my tongue, and then his tongue caught up. Still tentative, and I didn’t want to freak him out with my full horny whore aggressive fuck mode capabilities, eager as I was to show this good friend the time of his life. I moaned into his mouth, and his hands settled on my waist.
“C’mon” and I kissed him again really quickly as I led him to my master suite. I had my favorite middle of the road R&B with some jazz, instrumental, playing, I considered what to play on the drive home and again, considered my audience and didn’t go too extreme with my selection. I started undoing his tie, and this time his hands went inside my robe, causing the satin tie to come completely undone and his eyes met my nipples as his fingers roamed the skin of my core.
“Fucking insane, your body, holy shit Dolly, I’ve imagined this for so long and you are so much hotter than even in my dreams, and I thought you were pretty darn perfect when I started having those fantasies….”
I removed his suit jacket, and smiled about my decision to have a suit valet in my bedroom. You never know. My children had asked about it, since “Mommy, you don’t wear suits” but they accepted my answer “I just want our house to feel like a home and a home has something for suits in the master bedroom.” I kissed Scott again, who hadn’t gone farther than fingers inside the waist of my panties. “You won’t find any hair down there, I’m smooth and delicious for you, but in the meantime how about I give you a quick tour…”
I took his hands, raised them to my tits, placed his open palms on my breasts, then positioned forefingers and thumbs on my nipples, then helped him squeeze just right and feel me up the way that feels best. “Can you remember those moves? Because that’s what feels good to me, along with you sucking them, which we’ll get to.”
“Like this?” and his lips were on me, and he was pretty good about not biting me so hard as to be painful but enough to be kinky. Hey, Scott is a grown man, it’s not like I was his first pair of tits. Just first pair in too long of a while…
In a blur of kissing, our tongues dueled, danced, and then explored each other’s body. He was aggressive and hungry on my smooth moist pinkness, and Dolly can (almost) always writhe, wiggle, point, assist or thrust her way as needed so that yes, my lover “makes” me cum with his mouth. From the look on his face, Scott had never been with a squirter. “You’re welcome” I told him.
And I had no idea how long he would last, but I may as well as hoisted up the mail sail on our yacht to sex-town because the mast was aloft and sturdy. I’m pretty sure his hands finished whatever stripping had to be done on me, shoes included, and I was nude and my hands removed all remaining threads on him and I pulled him down on the bed, pushed him onto his back, we giggled, I moved his mouth to my hard nipple and we rolled and he was on his back, and then I pushed him flat with my hand to his chest and said, “my turn”.
I restrained my aggression on the slow, sensuous cock licking I gave Scott while on my hands and knees above him, and I rotated my lower body for him to touch since his fingertips felt so good on my skin, touching my firm, toned arms, my taught back, my flat firm abs, and his hands kept me moist and seemed content not to penetrate so I briefly remove his married dick from my wanton mouth and while stroking the saliva-bathed shaft I told him “I want your fingers to enjoy, finger fuck me, lover, meet my clit and make her happy, I like your hands.”
I think I distracted him, because his fingers didn’t get me off by themselves, but no matter, it felt good and I was so damned excited to be fulfilling a great friend’s twenty year fantasy. I then reached down, took his hand in mine, and guided our hands jointly to bring me to a peak, and he had his peak in my mouth moments later, groaning and straining. He both collapsed, breathless, satisfied….but not done. Not by a long shot. Scott seemed a man of religion, saying “Oh my God” and “Holy fuck” and “Sweet Jesus” a lot. A girl likes to know she can blow a man’s mind as well as blow his cock. I was happy. He was my friend, I made my friend happy.
And then another great part. We made small talk like old friends, and I shared with him some no-name sexual adventures that I’d enjoyed as a single woman, made sure nothing about generous envelopes and Dolly dates and all that was part of any of the stories. And he told me about how he’d imagined us. And I played with him, and his cock revived with just some strokes and tantalizing licks. I took a condom from the night stand and told him “I need you inside me”.
“Go for it, Dolly.”
Again, he was on his back, but this time I mounted him, and with how wet we’d made me manually earlier, and so turned on by having sucked his cock, I took his standard sized cock (remember, standard sized means its fully equipped to make me feel great, don’t obsess about size, I really don’t) into me and I steadily lowered myself until I was impaled on his married cock, ready for condom-protected fun. I was facing his feet, having mounted him reverse cowgirl, and I was on my flat feet, then knees, so there was some Asian influence to the position at times. His hands on my hips, feeling my arms, my shoulders, then I’d lean back and he’d sit up far enough to reach forward and cup my breasts, tweaking my nipples.
“Oh God, Dolly, I’m inside you, my cock is inside your pussy, your sweet, hot snug pussy, so much better than I ever imagined….you’re so flexible, I love that we’re fucking in this position, I never get any hot positions at home, God, if you knew how long I’ve dreamed of this….”
I interrupted, “Scott, God DOES know how long you’ve dreamed of this….” And we laughed. Fucking friends is so cool when we can just have fun and make jokes and tease and be playful. Such a nice change of pace from just plain hot fucking–which yes, I love that, too. I love the variety, I guess. I was making a slow rocking motion, and I raked his flesh with my nails, then I realized I wanted to see his face, so to show off I rotated without dismounting, all my yoga-provided flexibility allowing me to do so while still pumping him. His eyes were gleaming, he didn’t seem focused. “You’re just looking like you’re in heaven, Scottie, I love it….”
I’d rarely called him Scottie, usually only in slightly tipsy alumni board settings when the flirting had previously been heaviest, which of course never led to anything before tonight. In my own way, I do love Scott, as a friend, and now I could add this magic evening to our friendship. With any luck, maybe breakfast might also get added. We smile, I leaned forward, we kissed, softly, and this was making love, in a non-committed sort of a way.
“Damn Dolly you feel good, you make me feel so good” Scott whispered in a voice that I could almost not make out, it was said so softly.
“Shhh…you need to just relax and enjoy,” my seductress persona quickly rebuked him.
We went on like that for a while, adjusting tempo, me changing angles, then we tried missionary and my legs up on his shoulders but that didn’t seem his style and he slowed. I asked if he was about to cum, but Scott asked if I could ride him again. “Just seems like the peak of my fantasy about you, so beautiful, fit, seeing your body, your arms, your abs, your smile, your eyes, and holding your tits…..” and we traded places, this time with a brief dismount and remount, and then I was straddling Scott’s waist and slowly fucking him while his hands guided my ass, played with my hole (but never ventured into my back door, a shame since I was so wet that he could have easily lubed up a finger with what my pussy was gushing) and he sucked on my breasts while I balanced on one arm and caressed his nipple sucking head in the other. We shared more whispered conversation.
“I’m glad you finally offered yourself to me,” Scott said to me when his mouth left my nipple.
“Me too,” I answered back. Had I really never offered before? Or had he never given any sign that he’d have accepted? Did it matter? Dolly looks forward to life, and never back with regret.
“You think you can cum again,” he asked, since we’d been fucking for some time (I may have skipped over another orgasm or two of mine. Trying to brag about Scott’s fantasy coming true here, after all.
“Maybe. I hope, but no matter what this feels really good,” I replied.
Turned out my timeline didn’t matter so much. I got over eager, really fucked him much faster and deeper and sluttier than I had been, and suddenly he stopped stiffened and announced he was cumming, and groaned through his body spasming into me, and his eyes closed and he grunted, and I felt him start to shrivel, and it was a pronounced shrivel. Scott told me that I’d fucked his brains out, and that he felt so drained and stupid with so many brain cells having been drained that he needed to rest. I climbed off my friend Scott’s cock and fell next to him on the couch where we immediately began to kiss. And then he giggled some more.
“What’s so funny, loverboy?” I asked him, playfully slapping his butt while his hand caressed my hip.
“So, the dirty poem about your sorority sister, you said you knew the story behind it? But it was poetic license? You remembered the poem twenty years, there must have been something memorable. What?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you in just a second,” I began, as I moved one of his hands to my breast, “but you have to sensually feel me up and play with my body while I tell you,”
“You don’t have to ask me twice, Dolly,” he said as he teased my nipple, massaged my entire breast with his palm, and then got a bit more bold and realized he had two hands so he found his way to my clit with the other. I encouraged him to go lightly downstairs so soon after the hard thrusting I’d enjoyed, and he complied. “So you were saying?”
“Okay, Scott, Denise was on the gymnastics team and had a super tight, fit petite body. SOMEBODY should have been enjoying that body, but she wouldn’t date and every formal was a series of ‘just going as friends’. She claimed she just wanted to focus on her studies and gymnastics, she liked boys but boys weren’t the most important thing to her like to so many of us — you know, like me.”
“So what, was she a closet lesbian?”
I smiled. “See, that’s what we were wondering. Including me, so I set out to find out, and I plied her with too much wine and hot sorority girls can often be convinced to make out even when sober, and so there we were, deep into lip lock, and I knew she’d had a lot to drink, but damn, she really was so sexy and one of my fuck buddies had gotten me all hot one time when he and I were having sex by telling me his fantasy about a threesome with me, him, and Denise. So I told him I’d fuck her and find out. And so while taking advantage of my hot but undersexed sorority sister, I went way past kissing a girl and liking it, I got her undressed, stripped my own clothes off, got in bed with her, and ravished that girl through what were her first, second and third orgasms. You see, I was the author of that poem, and only in the morning did the gravity of having been thoroughly sexed by a woman sink in for her when she woke up and we were naked and entwined with each other, my fingers on her sensitive parts.
“Dolly! That’s so fucking hot!”
“It was. And so was the three way she did with me and my buddy. She turned out to be a sexual animal big time and was all over both of us. Then the second, no, maybe it was the third three way we did she started taunting him to fuck her bareback, that she wanted his seed, he was so masculine and she loved his cock and she wanted him to breed her, and when he looked at me I shook my head “no” but by then they were falling for each other and he did. Even though they got lucky and she didn’t get pregnant, at least not before they graduated and actually got married. And yes, Scott, I was a bridesmaid and she let me fuck him the night before for a farewell one on one bachelor’s party, but that came later, the next year after we graduated. Anyway, she didn’t want people to find out about her becoming such a hot cock slut, so I told her I’d spread the word she was still as frigid as we all knew her to be before I corrupted her. So I wrote the poem in the visitor’s suite bathroom. All the girls read it when shacking up with their boyfriends in there or they told the other girls who didn’t use the suite. So Denise graduated with almost everyone thinking she was still virginal and her good girl reputation survived.”
Scott just looked stunned.
“Not what you expected, Scottie? Not my only hot adventure, if you were wondering.” Then I smiled, and then my friend and now lover grabbed me and kissed me hard, and my hand noticed that my story had gotten more than just his kisses hard.
Just before Scott pushed me onto my tummy and opened my legs, he put on a condom and said “so much fucking hotter than I ever dreamed being your lover could be Dolly, you should write your stories down and publish them if they are as hot as this night tonight and what you just told me about you and Denise.”
**Wink. “Why Scottie,” I started, then I paused and inhaled and he slid into me with a single steady thrust and put his lips on a spot on my neck that I knew would have me speechless in seconds, so I hurried to finish my thought, “write my stories down, huh? I just might have to do that!”
THE END
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!