Sideline Reporter Dolly

"I knew the moment I saw you that we would fuck, and that it would be magnificent."  Looking back, the confident sound of Paul's voice when he told me that, his wilting cock in my mouth, my pussy still returning to its normal dimensions now that that wonderful wilting cock had completed its mission to penetrate and explore my inner sexual delight zone, I knew he was right.  That even though Paul was exactly twice my age, I'd known deep down that we'd be lovers the first time he and I spoke.  Hi, my name is Dolly Jewel, and allow me to tell you about my time as a sideline reporter for a major television network covering college football. 

 

I was twenty-five, didn't lack for confidence, had been approached by various agents or producers for a number of years to try some kind of in-front-of-the-camera profession when I accepted an offer from this particular network in spite of the fact that I had almost no experience, save for some student work at the university's taped coach's show that I did while I was a student athlete myself.  Combine my 5'7" figure, mid-back blonde hair, blue eyes, a smile that my dentist still brags about, runner's legs, D-cup breasts that make me far too busty to be a model but I'm certainly not complaining, and I guess I had "the look".  A bit of public speaking and the fact that I loved fucking every bit as much as every guy who thought he could dazzle his way into my tight, bare-shaved pussy (or my tighter ass that was rock hard thanks to my fitness routine) with promises to make me a star convinced me to finally say yes a couple years after I'd graduated college.  A variety of professional jobs for a couple years, often dealing with very high net worth clients, gave me the confidence not to be nervous.  My "sideline Dolly" year.

 

    But back to the play by play announcer, a former athlete whose college career was much better remembered than his brief professional career.  He was tanned, fit, cocky, handsome, and he had big hands.  Yeah, yeah, I know, half of you want to say that's a myth, the other half will agree it was a decent bet that a big cock goes along with big hands. In this case, big hands, big powerful pussy stretching cock.  When he was done jackhammering me, my legs wrapped tightly around his hips and my yoga-toned arms clinging to his shoulders for support since he was standing and I was against the wall of the Marriott Marquis suite, my cries of ecstasy only partly muffled into his neck and shaved chest, I was so well fucked I managed to gasp out, "you're as good as I hoped you'd be when you flirted with me in the staff room and studio, right before I went home and masturbated while thinking of you."

 

    When he settled us both onto the bed after that standing missionary first fuck, I kissed him and pressed my tongue into his mouth, savoring all of his masculinity.  His scent was something from the Ralph Lauren for men Polo collection.  His taste was Johnny Walker Black.  I'd noticed both the fragrance and the taste when I kissed him earlier, pre-fuck, after he'd convinced me to accompany him to his suite after the night-before-the-game prep session ended.  We both knew what would happen, and I didn't exactly play hard to get.  He got me inside the door, poured me a drink, we clinked glasses, I said "to a good game tomorrow" and he said, "to a hot one tonight", we both drank down, then dropped the glasses, embraced and kissed. From there we stripped each other and only the brief "do you have a condom" and "sure, let me get it" detour after I was down to my black string thong and his hard cock was poking a tent into his cum smeared boxer-briefs was in the way of that up against the wall and "God I'm so fucking wet for you" fucking he'd given me.  In case I haven't stopped remembering the hard hammering I enjoyed getting.  Fucking slut, that's what I was, a fucking slut in heat, and believe me when I tell you that I call myself that will a huge amount of pride and admiration for my younger self.  I was horny and sexually active and all that in college, heck, well on my way by the last couple semesters of high school, but I think that night, fucking my married colleague with abandon the night before a broadcast, might have been the beginning of the Dolly I've grown to be (and love being.)

 

    I took the condom off him, and raked my nails along the base of his scrotum (a longer french manicure than I ever have now, these were my "going to be on television holding the microphone" nails), then dribbled his cum onto my perspiration slickened tits before sucking that long thick pound stick Paul had fucked in and out of me with such gusto.  And that's when he told me that he knew he'd fuck me the minute he saw me.  I made eye contact with him, smiled, slowly worked his tool with my fingers before returning my tongue to its tour of his circumcised cock head, the underside of his shaft, and one ball at a time licking and sucking.  He was old enough to be my father, handsome, a touch of gray flecked throughout his hair.  Unlike me, he had tan lines and pubic hair.  Thank God I missed the hairy bush generation.  I shaved so I could wear tiny bikinis in the beginning, then realized how much I loved the feeling of being smooth and shaved, my sex ready to get tongued.  I had the taste of his masculine spunk and body in my mouth that I licked from his cock, cleaning him from the cum that I'd dribbled onto my tits.  I scooped some up with my long slender finger, scraped it onto my tongue.   Paul smiled.  "I knew I'd fuck you, but I didn't know what a great fuck you'd be.  Keep doing what you're doing to me, Dolly, because I thought about you while touching myself, too, and the real thing is so much sexier."

 

I was young, I was curious.  "Why did you know you'd fuck me?" I asked him.  Then I kissed him again to let him think about it.  I pressed him down on his back, straddling him, feeling his spent, semi-hard but still thick cock settle against my creamy slit and my over-stimulated clitoris.  I started softly grinding, stripped sliding on him.  "What did you like about me?"

 

"How about everything?" he began, fighting the urge I could see in his eyes to flip me over and just overpower me again, perhaps even bareback (we didn't bareback.  though every time I fantasized about him fucking me he was unsheathed in the fantasy; one time I even imagined he impregnated me in his marital bed!  I was young, like I said.)  "Your tan, your eyes, your smile, your legs, the tone of your calves, your defined strong and sexy thighs, your freckles leading down from your collar bone to your cleavage.  First time I saw your hands I wanted you to stroke my cock to completion, maybe let me cum on your face.  Would have felt like a dirty old man except that I saw a sparkled in your eye looking back at me."  He was right about that.  I'd fucked boys, but he was, at that point in time, my definition of what a man should be.  Wasn't a problem that he was married, we were out of town, hadn't been seen, and the lust was so fucking mutual.  I knew I was giving in to school girl fantasies when I imagined being with him in a real relationship (or being bred, like I said before, while in his wife's bed, wearing a string of pearls I'd found on her perfume tray just before putting a tiny whiff of her Chanel No. 5 on to steal him away!  God, I never tried to act on that fantasy, and more than a decade later I still get wet thinking about it.)

 

"What else?"  I made him keep going.  I could feel my sex heating up on him, quickening my pace as our stripper slide humping got hotter.  His hands reached up , cupped my breasts, his thick fingers tweaking my hardening nipples. "I saw how young you were, how sexy you were, imagined your mouth with my cum dripping off your lips after you'd tried to take my load and gagged, not able to swallow it all the first time.  How sweet and tight your pussy would feel, how you'd gasp at the reality when we really did commit the sin of a workplace affair, young sexy fitness babe and older married man.  The smile on your face when I'd blatantly spend too much time talking to you.  I was so excited that you never gave any hint that you needed to get back to anything, or tried any technique to get out of the situation.  Sitting closer to me at each meeting.  Putting your hand on my shoulder when standing next to me for balance when you reached down and took off your fuck-me-pumps and gave your foot a moment of relief. That look of confidence that let me know, "yes, with this body I've been fucking since I was about seventeen, and now you get to fuck me, too.  Nobody has a body like you do, Dolly, and doesn't use it for sexual pleasure."

 

Okay, so Paul had read all my signals correctly.  He also read the flutter in my eyelids that I was about to cum from my bare skin to bare skin humping while on top of him.  He could have plunged into me.  I wouldn't have protested, I was so far gone, God, I'm so lucky he didn't knock me up for real!  He just stayed steady with me, and I fucking gushed all over his groin, soaking him in Dolly sex juice. The electricity ran up my spine.  I moaned with an arched back, I felt like a wolf howling to the moon.  Thank God his room wasn't next to anyone else from the network.

 

We kissed again.  Deeply, impatiently.  He was still hard, and he would last, I was guessing (and it turned out to be a correct guess), since he'd cum so hard not much earlier.  He turned me onto my back, shifted down between my legs.  "I want to taste your sweetness, Dolly" and then Oh Dear God he was licking me when I was just post-climax and I was too over-stimulated to cum and feeling too wonderful to protest.  Pleasure with no hope for parole until he felt good and ready to release --either release me, or release into me.  I heard him ask, "so when did you know you'd come up here and fuck me?"

 

I couldn't lie.  He was making me feel too damn good. "I'd rubbed out a few thinking about you watching games back when I was in college.  You're hot.  You're old enough to ooze sexual experience but still hot to have a hard body.  I'd hoped you'd notice me.  I got wet every time you talked to me."  Then he sucked on my clit and I came again, and he smeared his entire face all over my well lubricated pussy.  He did pause a moment to put on a second condom, and I just opened my legs and surrendered my body to his, pulling his ass (not as hard as mine, thank you very much!) into me as he pressed his lips to mine, "here, taste how sweet and special your pussy is."  He was right, I tasted awesome as I licked and kissed his lips and chin and cheeks.

 

I didn't spend the night.  He offered, and when I said I couldn't, I had to get back to my own room, he didn't argue, and to his credit, offered to walk me back.  I think he thought he was being a gentleman.  Either that or a dog, hoping all the late night guests and staff would put two and two together and know that I'd fucked my game announcer.  Me, Dolly the sideline girl.

 

I wore something that the network had selected and approved for the game the next day.  It showed a hint of cleavage.  I was only on camera from the waist up, so it showed a lot of leg.  Only the crew saw that, and my "coach, can you keep performing this well in the second half?" question was not exactly brilliant as I had the coach of the team that was leading 31-6 at halftime on my side of the field.  It did offer me a flashback to Paul's final fuck the night before, doggy style, his big hands on my hips, me slamming my pussy and ass back onto him, body slapping sounds filling the room, and then he grabbed a handful of hair and I reached down with one hand, still balancing on my knees and the remaining hand while I twiddled my swollen clit to two full-pussy-orgasms, the second of which so fully clasped and clenched and spasm'd all over his cock until he came, too.

 

The next night, after the game, when he slipped the Delta Sky Lounge manager a twenty to put a "closed for cleaning" sign on the door of the family bathroom so that he could take me in there and prop me up against the marble counter to fuck me first facing me, then from behind me while I was bent over, he told me, "I knew I was going to fuck you hard tonight when I saw your tanned legs on the field last night.  The fraternity boys were all howling at you, they all wanted to fuck you.  But I knew it would be my cock filling you tonight."  God he was sexy when he talked dirty.  Later, after I'd sucked so hard while he finished in my mouth that his knees buckled, I smiled, kept my lips together, and then pressed his cum back into his mouth in a major snowball kiss afterward.  "Dolly Jewel on the visitors sideline, back to you, Paul" I said as I smiled.

 THE END

Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!

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