“Hey you’re early, I wasn’t expecting you until 7:30, its only 7:00, traffic must have been light? Wow, you look great, come on in!” And then he hugged me, and his body felt great in that hug. A great start for a Dolly date out-call.
He was six foot tall, tanned, relaxed, dressed in a golf shirt and slacks, expensive loafers, no socks, freshly showered and handsome. Didn’t look sixty at all, my guess would have been fifty. Maybe mid 40’s, the more I thought about it. Did I say handsome? I did. So I really was thinking about how old he was. And immediately hoping he was going to be a great lover and that he’d like me and ask me back again and again. I’d met with other men who lived in the same luxury high rise in that city, and he’d been well-referred by fantastic regulars. Let’s call him George for the sake of this blog.
The time thing was on my mind. “You know, traffic was quicker here than I’d expected, maybe I had a great driver, but I thought I was on-time, I’m so sorry if I marked the time down wrong when we made the appointment.”
‘Oh, well, it could have been me, you’re probably right, I’ve been so busy, work, moving in here about a month ago and getting settled, no worries, glad you’re here. God, you really look great, you’re so fit, are you a personal trainer, too, sometimes women in your line of work do that, too.”
I snickered briefly when he said “your line of work.” Oh, these businessmen I get to meet. I’ve heard it called worse. And it was wrapped in a compliment on my body, always a successful strategy for someone trying to make me even hornier and wetter. I’d been both horny and wet when I came up the elevator with that grub hub delivery guy. We’d reached the doorman at the same time. Italian restaurant, smelled delicious, and my thought at the time was I was glad he had the food aromas in the elevator in case my excitement was giving off pheromones of the variety that a man can smell. I love luxury high rise successful men!
And his condo was as handsome as he was. Masculine decorating but stylish, he told me his divorce was nearly finalized, and this place he’d moved into had great amenities for his teen-aged children and they could walk to so many great locations in that city. “You decorated this home yourself, I love it”
He admitted he’d had help. “Well I’m here to help, too.” I said as I asked where I might find a ladies’ room, “you know, to get ready”. He said he’d get everything ready and pointed me to a well-appointed powder room.
No envelope. Okay, the time was confused, perhaps I was early and he hadn’t gotten it in here yet, no concerns because of everything else, great building, referral source, he was so sexy I’d probably pay for dinner and drinks to seduce him so he’d fuck me on my own free time if this hadn’t been a Dolly date. See how skilled I am at making lemonade out of lemons?
Sort of like how I coax orgasms from cocks that sometimes have trouble getting hard. All in a day’s work for a sexual miracle worker like Dolly. If that sounds conceited, I’m just quoting that certain someone in New York. He was witty, literary, charming, had a small dick on which I worked really hard to get erect and he made me cum with his fingers and his mouth and I made him cum the first time with my pussy tight around his condom-protected pleasure stick and then I got a second round out of him orally after he ate me to a squirting climax. Deep French kiss after I swallowed, and it’s so sexy when a man is secure enough for wonderful kissing after I orally take their seed. Hoped George was a great kisser.
I emerged in a thong and bra and heels and bare legs and had a black see though baby doll with spaghetti straps that I could either slip down or lift up to remove it depending on what we were doing when we wanted more skin on skin.
And George, in another surprise but not unwelcome moment, was lying face down on the extended part of a sectional that had no back or side, just an attached extended ottoman, really. He was laying on a sheet, and had a towel over his ass. Nice back, not ripped like a body builder, but again, I’d have pegged him for forties, not sixty. Ha ha, “I’d have pegged him”, I know some of you are snickering. I’m invoking the fifth amendment and not answering any questions about whether I’ve done that, since there might be some states that have a crime on the books that would technically include pegging (unenforceable under supreme court law, an attorney client told me once after I’d been the lucky recipient of some pleasurable but sadly too brief anal sex. “Dolly, sorry I came so quickly once you gave me your ass, so tight and taboo, I couldn’t hold it!” was his excuse. So cute. Made it up with me with a great tip and used my toy on me, too. *wink!). Oh, and if any of you dear, sexy readers are scratching your head about “pegging”, please let Dolly add to your modern behind closed doors for consenting adults only vocabulary https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pegging .
Okay, so he wanted a massage first, I’m good with my hands, and wanted my hands on him. His moans and groans “that’s soooo good, so good, ah, that’s what I needed” were getting me wet.
He’d also commented on how sexy I was making this, wearing lingerie like I was. “Your wish was my command” was all I said with a smile, and he didn’t say anything more. I kissed the back of his neck, and he lifted and turned his head, looking at me in a way that made me think I’d found his starter button. So I straddled him, my toned inner thighs on his flesh, and then leaned down body to body and kissed his lips. Tossed the see through teddy aside during my slow, sensuous teasing lean forward. Ah, skin.
God, he took his time, what a cool customer, slowly allowing my tongue into his mouth after I was licking at his lips as a way of knocking on the door. I lifted up as I felt him twist over onto his back to face me, and I threw his towel to the floor and felt his cock briefly with my fingers as I leaned forward to kiss him again. By now his hands had gone to my hips, then down my thighs to feel my thigh highs, then my ass, and as he hit my waist I reached behind me and undid then dropped my bra. I began dry humping his cock, and my thong was soaked.
“Wow,” was all I got out of him when my breasts were made available, and his hands knew how to take advantage of my 36D girls and his thumbs and forefingers knew their way around a nipple. Or in this case, both my nipples and my body was on fire.
“Do me here, fuck me here, this is so hot.”
We might both have said that. Honestly, no memory if I said it or he did or if we said it simultaneously. Just suddenly we went into “lose the heels so no one gets poked” mode and the thong slid off. I reached for the condom I had placed on the side table and I knelt alongside his still reclining body long enough to taste his cock, lube it up with my wet tongue and feel it twitch and taste some bitter but tolerable precum before I unrolled the condom on him and then positioned myself above George.
“This is amazing.”
That I know was said by him because I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him and mumble into his mouth, “like you knew it would be, I’m sure” as I lowered my body onto his strong, firm protected dick. Healthy sized, plenty to work with.
I rode him, and he looked in my eyes, and played with my tits. My hands on his chest. We started perspiring, and I was glad he had the sheet to protect the sectional. Love when they read my reviews and they see that I can squirt.
He seemed tongue tied, speechless, I love when I can make a successful man like that! I also love when they let me reach down and please myself while I’m on top, and I came, and shuddered and he went motionless, “God, I’m watching you cum, this is so intimate”.
My legs needed a break from being the rider and a good orgasm can sometimes leave me a half-quart low on energy for just a brief time, and I asked if he wanted me from behind.
“Oh God, yes, wow, so hot!”
Boyish enthusiasm. May all men maintain such youth into their sixties. And thank you to all those I’ve met who’ve shown it to me, I don’t want to make it seem like George was the only one.
He sped up not long after I’d swapped places and gotten on my hands and knees and presented myself to him. He went lazy dog on me, flush against my body on top of me, I felt captured, possessed, in his total control as he lost all inhibition and fucked me hard until he came, straining, squeezing me, groaning, and it was hot and wonderful.
And then he called me Sally.
WTF? His mistress? He was newly divorced, so I hoped it wasn’t his wife’s name. I’ve been called by the wife’s name, it happens, we always laugh about it later.
The I got worried. Oh shit, have I been played, is Sally here, did some woman watch and he just called to her, not to me?
“You meant Dolly, George, remember lover?” I said with a hopeful laugh. I wanted to clear up the confusion, especially since this was all great and I wanted us to become a regular appointment, but enough with the awkward first time stuff, we’d just made each other cum after all. So that’s kind of like being acquainted. And naturally I didn’t really call him “George”, I’m just calling him that in this blog.
“George? Who’s George?” (Again, a different name was said, but you get the point, and in seconds, so did I. “George” got the point a few moments later, and it went something like this.
“I’m Dolly, were you thinking I’m Sally?”
(Slowly, with a look of confusion on his face) “Oh fuck…you’re not Sally…”
(Me) “Oh fuck is right”
“You’re not Sally the masseuse?”
“Sally the masseuse?” (Biggest fuck up of my life? Maybe. WTF was going on here?)
And then his phone rang, and from the ring tone he said, ‘that’s my doorman, hang on.”
And what got pieced together was the following:
The doorman explained Sally the masseuse had arrived. I looked at a clock. I’d been there 30 minutes. The doorman knew to call because the condo where the Italian food had been delivered hadn’t been expecting a food delivery, and the way the elevator worked in that secure building he could only go back down to the lobby and front desk, not to “George’s” floor.
“George” had ordered dinner to keep warm for after his massage, because dinner orders later, around 8:00, always ended up being late due to traffic in his crowded, urban area. He’d forgotten all about the dinner because he and I had hit it off.
The real “George” called down to the desk when he sent the food delivery man back down. The very discreet door man knew why I was there to visit him, and realized that the linguine and Caesar salad delivery guy thought the wrong number was his destination, and I’d made the same mistake and went to the other condo number the door man had said. There I was, looking in my bag for a twenty to tip the doorman on the way in, so I hadn’t noticed who he was looking at when he said the room numbers. When the elevator had stopped, food guy didn’t move, so I’d heard both numbers and assumed this first stop was mine. “My door man is cool, he’ll send you up, Dolly” was my last communication.
Door man simply paid the delivery guy instead of sending him back up. Faux-George was good for it, he knew. And since I hadn’t come back down, it seemed Faux-George and I had made the best of it, door man thought.
Except that we hadn’t known I was in the wrong condo. And the mistake of time and the appearance of the massage request hadn’t tipped us off.
So he had the door man stall Sally.
The call ended. “So if you’re not Sally the masseuse, I don’t know the guy in the other condo, but didn’t you know who your date was?”
“Um, it was a blind date” I tried. And then I realized something that made me sound like a country song. “OMG, you never even called me by my name!”
“So you went on a blind date, used the powder room and came out dressed like you did. Where do I find women like you for blind dates?” He smiled. “Cuz for a mistake, this turned out awesome, you’re exactly who I needed to meet, hell with Sally and her massage.
“Oh wait,” he continued, “hang on, um, so, uh, Dolly was it, can I get you a bottled water, please, you’re awesome don’t go anywhere, let me just get Sally paid and on her way…”
I nodded thank you for the water, marveling at how well Faux-George was handling this. While he called down and arranged for door man to give an excuse that he had to cancel and door man paid her and using a direct pay Faux George repaid door man with about a 50% tip for his troubles that evening.
I looked at my phone and saw that my missed appointment had blown up my email, and I called him and told him I’d gotten lost at the wrong address and was so sorry and would make it up to him on the house. And he was gracious. And then said, “The linguine guy came here, I know exactly where you are. Still lost, Dolly?”
Oh shit, that’s right.
But then he laughed. (Thank God).
‘So you fucked a guy at the wrong condo?”
Crude. But who was I to insist on etiquette at that moment.
I laughed too, and said simply, “busted; guilty as charged”
“That’s so hot. So hot.” How cool was Mr. Missed Appointment, “Real George”, to be turned on by my misdirected evening. He asked if I could see him that night, he was free the rest of the night, or had I had other later appointments already, and he hoped like hell I could see him while I was still in his city.
Faux George was back, looking gorgeous and freshly well fucked, and gazing at me, as he sat next to me and stroked my back affectionately as I lay on my tummy talking on the phone to the man who I had intended to meet. I looked Faux George in the eyes as I told Real George, “I do have plans made for the rest of the night, just email me some times for tomorrow or the morning after, and we’ll make it work, and it’s on me, and you’re a dear for understanding, okay? Bye now.”
“That didn’t sound like a blind date.”
‘How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” He was still smiling. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Dolly, it’s just that I didn’t realize I’d bought a ticket for the rodeo tonight, but I have been to the rodeo before. You’re amazing and you need a gift for all you’ve done, but the cash I had for Sally won’t nearly be enough for whatever you must be accustomed to receiving.”
I blushed.
“But, um, I do like the rodeo and would like to schedule another ride myself. Can you let me know some times, too, and I’ll get you taken care of for this time here with me?”
“Actually, I don’t have other plans for tonight, I just said that because I’ve had an amazing time with you and was hoping we could get to know each other for a while longer.”
Henry wasn’t really his name, either, but I can’t still keep calling him George. I spent the night. He was forty-seven years old. It was wonderful. In the morning we went to his bank because there are limits to what you can get from an ATM. I said I should stay outside, and he said that his settlement agreement was already signed, no worries, and who wouldn’t be proud to be seen on the town with me, he’d moved out after all. Though I tried to tell him he didn’t have to, he insisted on my posted overnight gift, and with a little something extra “for the thrilling circumstances” he said.
We hugged, kissed, and he turned for home. I stepped alongside him.
“Um, I thought we agreed we’d get together again tomorrow morning, before you fly back to So Fla.”
We did. But when I swapped messages with George while you were in the bathroom, he and I arranged for this morning. Care to walk me back to your building, Henry?”
I spent the rest of the weekend in their building, swapping extended sessions with Real George and Henry, and have seen them both since, and lately they’ve had drinks and played golf, and now we’ve talked about a trio date with DP!
THE END
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!