Take Down

I can work up a good sexy layer of well earned perspiration during great sex with the best of 'em.  Dolly dates often involve many bodily fluids, and perspiration is one of them.  (I'm not using the word "sweat" intentionally; a lady never sweats, she perspires.)  Anyway, I recently found myself, well, SWEATING, during one of the more genuinely athletic Dolly dates I'd been on.  Ever.


Sure, he's an orthopedic surgeon now, with many professional and college athletes as patients, but it didn't take long to recognize that Doctor Joe, as I'll call him, had been a serious wrestler.  No, not the WWE cartoonish scripted silliness that gives the word "wrestling" a bad name.  I'm talking about Dan Gable, Cael Sanderson, Kyle Dake wrestlers.  On the mat, not in the ring.  Go ahead, look those three names up.  If you think about it, reverse cowgirl is really just a slight variation on a neck bridge. 


My cousin used to cut weight to wrestle at 149 when we went to high school together and I went to the meets since he was one grade ahead of me.  Ever smell a high school gym when there's a wrestling meet?  Distilled youthful masculinity.  Okay, I could get kind of hot watching lean bodies working each other around, even if it was a bunch of guys.  My cousin was so cool when I ended up hooking up with his teammates from the 167 and 178 pound weight classes at some of the beer, shots and blowjob festivals that passed for parties on Saturday nights among the jocks at my school.  And as an all state tennis player, I was one of the jocks.  Just that I was the one the guys all wanted to fuck.  Wow, getting beyond a little moist reminiscing here.  There was a reason I was talking about wrestling and sweat, and Doctor Joe the surgeon was that reason.


Before he had a sizzling hot sexy trophy wife stupid enough to think that she could continue to go shopping and spend, spend, spend if she divorced him; before those 36 and 72 hour shifts during medical school and residency; and before he was summa cum laude at one of the nation's best colleges, Doc Joe was a state champion wrestler with many major scholarship offers.  Iowa and Oklahoma State offered him full rides but he went to a brainiac school because he was an even better student than he was a wrestler. 


One last word on how hot wrestlers can get me:  C'mon, Matthew Modine in Vision Quest?  Check it out on Netflix.  (Actually I'm not so sure I didn't find Linda Fiorentino just as hot as I found him.)  Like I said, my cousin was a wrestler, so that was his cult movie and he and his buddies were always watching it.  Which is how I hooked up with Mr. 167 pounds -- we both got hot and horny watching the movie while sipping alcohol (he had gin, I had wine) and then went out to a pickup truck where I had him, riding him cowgirl, and then having him finish in my mouth and swallowing it all up for him in a big show.  Okay, I'm getting wet again, back to Dr. Joe.


Now, its been something like twenty years, so no, I'm not still carrying a torch for wrestlers.  And Doc Joe was (and is) a Dolly date friend, so he approached me.  Kind of interesting how I got to be his wrestle and sweat and fuck and suck buddy.


I mentioned his sexy but stupid wife.  She wasn't even a second wife for him.  He held out for "hot" and he found it.  Shiksa Goddess was what he called her.  Before he finished the sentence with "bitch."  Shiksa Goddess Bitch worked out at my gym and I'd observed her closely long before I ever met Dr. Joe.  I'd fantasized about being with her.  Really.  During some three-way Dolly dates, no disrespect to the hotties I've teamed up with, but I'd let my mind wander a time or two if I'd just seen Dr. Joe's wife earlier that day.  I imagined seducing her into the life, not telling her that I was an escort and setting things up with my date for a hotel bar "pickup" beginning to the date.  I'd convince her to come along when my charming friend invited us upstairs, and then....  Since we belonged to the same gym, I'd seen her during the brief moments when she was neither behind a shower curtain nor in her towel wrap.  She had a seriously perfect body and she'd been to the same surgeon I'd been to.  Hairless below her eyelashes.  Toned.  Damn!  Either sweaty from a spinning class or steamed from the sauna, I'd seen her looking wet and ready to be taken many a time.


Its just that the guy doing the taking was her personal trainer.  Which got him fired.  And her divorce ended up causing enough scandal that she changed gyms.  Damn.  Once she was divorced, that was my time to get her tipsy.  Oh, Mrs. Bitch could drink some wine, yes she could, that's how the personal trainer broke the ice with her.  He told me about it when he and I were sharing a booty call fuck buddy session.  Can't believe she thought he was something serious enough to divorce her husband over.  Especially when that husband was an orthopedic surgeon.  And, I now know, a lean, motivated, flexible, fuck the sweat out of Dolly kind of a lover.  Poor damn fool that girl.


So Dr. Joe was referred to me, of all things, not by one of his athlete patients, a group that includes some of my most intense local clients.  Actually, a pro athlete regular of mine, surgically repaired by Dr. Joe, had a career best game the day after our first date.  He was superstitious and we fucked before all future home games until he went to another team.  Had to be the same routine, though.  "Can't vary.  Might be bad luck," he explained.  So, the door opened, DFK, rub his pants, drop to knees, BBBJ, more DFK and boob fondling (are there letters for that?), drag to bed, strip quickly, DATY, two squirts, more BBBJ, DT/HJ combo, cover up, CG, RCG, K-9, more DATY while I'm in K-9, lazy dog, Russian, BBBJ, Mish, Mish Greek, and that was where he spilled.  Sometimes he didn't get that far.  Great body but a bit too simple-minded.  It got to be really redundant.  But I can't complain -- he was pretty good at it and a great tipper. 


But, uh, Dr. Joe's patient was not how Dr. Joe got to me.  His divorce attorney was!  Another of Dolly's friends, Mr. Divorce Attorney was a challenge to me.  He was one of my earliest ever Dolly dates after I discovered TER.  He said he thought my photos were TGTBT and that he had a fetish for fitness model types even though he personally was pudgy, and we had some fun dates.  How nice, a divorce attorney who sees escorts, so he understands his male clients' desire and he has particular insight to the hobby to explain to his female clients about their husbands' activities.  Like "it's all covered, Mrs. Client, so no, you didn't get any diseases from these ladies.  Well, maybe that one girl he saw who didn't advertise on TER.  She was not quite the same caliber...."


So when Dr. Joe was bemoaning to his thick-dicked divorce attorney (there -- if you're reading, I gave you your props, loverboy!) that it wasn't just the loss of love that bothered him -- still in denial that he was ever much more than a meal ticket to the former nurse who married him to make him her fourth husband (though at the time he thought he was second).  No, it was more.  It was that he'd loved how hot Mrs. Bitch was because part of what drove him to be the best in just about everything he did was the idea that he'd get the hottest girl that way.  Which is often the case among doctors.  And she was hot.  Waaaaay hot.


So Mr. Divorce attorney says, "I don't want you going out and falling for the first girl you see, because they're going to swarm on you, a newly single, straight, rich, fit, surgeon in his late 40's.  Nope.  You need a fuck buddy.  But every girl is going to want to get attached to you" -- Dr. Joe was also a caring sweetheart of a guy -- "and you are too moral to bang a married woman for fun," which Mr. Divorce Attorney always said made the most sense.  His theory was to get a bored rich wife smart enough to know she had a great thing going in her present marriage and smart enough to be discreet about it because she doesn't want to lose her big house, car, and credit limit.  This approach wasn't for Dr. Joe, his attorney told him.  He needed to see an escort, beautiful, willing, available, no strings attached, great looking, great in bed.  That way there would be no demands placed on Doc Joe after the money shot.


So he recommended me and sent me an email explaining Dr. Joe's situation and providing him a reference.  


Doc Joe was shaking like a leaf when I met him in the cocktail lounge of the high-end hotel where we first trysted.  I got him a drink to settle his nerves.  Mr. Divorce Attorney had made arrangements with me for my fee and told Dr. Joe he wouldn't have to carry the Benjamins so that there'd be no evidence for any potential LE trouble,(not that I've ever had any LE trouble).  I wore a dress that was sexy but public building appropriate.  My golden tanned skin glistened -- a touch of lotion is all it takes on my bare, smooth, toned legs.  Doc Joe was about my height, nothing more.  He wasn't classically stocky like a wrestler.  I'd call him more "wiry," but still lean, and maybe 147-149 pounds.  When I later learned that he was a former wrestler I thought "oh God, he would have been in my cousin's weight class."  I chuckled internally.  After all these years, I'd finally fuck a one forty niner.  Sorry, Cuz, maybe if we'd been from Alabama, but Dr. Joe sure made up for it.


We talked and when he finished sipping his wine I suggested that he could meet me upstairs to continue our conversation.  I would go first and he would text me at the number I gave him in five minutes.  I'd send him the room number.


I did the all black lingerie look -- black push up demi bra, bikini thong, thigh highs, five inch FMP's, red mani-pedi, deep red lips, smoky eyes.  I wanted to be the bad girl because his wife had been a bad girl and I knew he wanted to give a sexy bad girl a good fucking.  He was already pitching a junior varsity tent in his trousers when I'd left him downstairs, where I'd done nothing more than touch him on the arm, back of his hand, and then mid-thigh.  When he walked in, he was a full metal jacket, loaded and ready to shoot many rounds.


As a kisser, he was tentative.  Understandable.  I untucked his shirt and he took the hint.  He did the shirt, I undid the trousers.  Nice package.  On such a lean body, a very 50th percentile cock looks so much bigger during middle age, when the other guys have gone to hell physically and many can no longer see their dicks or shoes.  I stroked him as I kissed him, felt his precum leak.  His fingers found the string of my thong, and he slipped two inside and played with my already wet labia and then dipped into me, feeling my heat, my absolute slickness.  I pulled his cock toward me, nudged his fingers aside and lubed the head of his dick with my seeping juices.  I felt him twitch as he slid along the outer edge.  A different angle and that twitch would have penetrated me, bare.


His chest impressed me.  I told him so and he reached behind me, took off my bra, and told me that mine impressed him.  Awwww, so sweet.  A lot of nervous guys get a compliment from me and they usually grunt out a thanks, but they often feel funny about what's going on to the extent they don't return a compliment.  Guys, take note -- every girl needs some encouragement.  You think she's hot?  Tell her.  He told me, and I showed him how much I appreciated him.  And that is where Dr. Joe's first cup of Joe-sauce was spilled, into Dolly's welcoming mouth.  Mmmm, my tongue teasing the underside of his cock's shaft, barely grazing the underside of his nut sack with my nails, teasing his delicate 'taint and borrowing some of my own body's lubricant to then tease his puckered brown eye back there.  But I didn't barge though the door.  Stayed outside.


When I started working his shaft and increasing the pace and the pressure I put into grasping his butt cheek he closed his eyes, a little unusual for a Dolly date, but I knew he was fragile.  "What sport did you play, or do you play still," I asked.  "I wrestled" he told me. 


"I love wrestlers.  That was my favorite team to fuck in high school," I told him later, as we caught our breath and embraced following cup number two.  Number two arrived after what started as a spirited missionary position with Dr. Joe balancing on his head, twisting my legs over his shoulders, wide open, trying to fuck me from above without my body bearing any of his weight.  (He had a pretty good amount of chest hair, more than I'm used to seeing, and it was a bit ticklish when his chest rubbed mine.). "You're amazing," he said, and something had snapped inside him.  I later found out he hadn't been laid in a year and a half.  He turned me over, had me on all fours, arms pinned, his knees between my legs, his knees prying mine open while he whispered into my ear that he was going to fuck me so good.  I told him he was going to make me gush.  He reached down, started frigging my clit, and I exploded and squirted while his dick was spitting its precious nectar into a condom that was deep inside my pussy.


After a wash cloth and a kiss and some bottled water from the honor bar, he got behind me for K-9, and then started "riding" me.  His chest pressed against my back as he swung around with everthing he had and controlled me and entered me in a variety of wrestling moves or wrestling move-inspired fuck positions.  He'd already cum twice, and now he was lasting.  I got slick.  I felt Dr. Joe nip at my neck when he slid inside my pussy, and then he backed away, but nipped at my ear.   He fucked me for about fifteen minutes straight, there being enough Dr. Joe sweat, Dolly sweat, pussy-produced lube.  I got to my feet ("2 points, escape," he mumbled), planted myself up against the work desk facing a big mirror and looked at him over my shoulder.  "Wanna watch us fuck in the mirror?"  Apparently that was a rhetorical question.  Doc Joe didn't answer, he just took a condom from my open goody bag over on the chair and re-introduced his body into mine.  Sure could work a dick in a girl's hole, that doctor. 


I was so creamy and he told me he felt how slick I was and that my sexual scent was driving him wild.  He said he needed to taste me.  Hello!  Duh, what took you so long!  Many "oh God," "oh shit yeah," "mmmm, oh yeah, lick that pussy," "oh fuck, yes, right there", "don't fucking stop, don't ever stop," and "oh, oh oh, oh...uuuughhhhhhh, aaarrrghhh!" screams later, we were embraced.  His face was glazed with Dolly sauce that I loved licking off and his body was suddenly not just the instrument of my pleasure, but given the use of wrestling moves and wrestling-learned body control and movement, he was giving me flashbacks to high school.


Turns out Mrs. Bitch was the sort of lover who allowed him to do what he wanted, but wasn't overly participatory in the non-mainstream positions.  They could fuck mish, CG, and a rare K-9.  She allowed him to go down on her but had her eyes shut and was silent, cumming without screams that would have bonded them together.  Here's a hint, folks:  Let you lover know how much you're enjoying yourself, even if you enjoy sex with everyone and he or she is nothing special.  They are still a lover, you know, someone you take all your clothes off to be with, sharing your body inside and out.  So, he'd married beautiful but cold and now she was playing hide the jewelry money with the personal trainer.  She was fucking the personal trainer (my occasional fuck buddy, remember) in what seemed to be a more enthusiastic manner than the way she gave herself to the hard working, hard bodied doctor who told me he worked out every morning at 5 am.  And I believed him when I felt his body slam into mine and hold me, control me, ride me...everything me.


So the trace memory of wrestler sweat (doesn't sound like two sexy words, "wrestler sweat," but let me tell you, what an arousing scent...) made my first (and second, third, fourth, and then monthly) position-fest sex-a-thon since then with Dr. Joe so exhausting and special.  Thanks, Doc. I needed that.


And as for you, the former Mrs. Bitch...well, thanks, you poor damn fool.  You could've had him as much as you wanted.  I do so enjoy having him.


Oh, I'm all worked up again.  I need to call Mr. Personal Trainer stud puppet.  I've just about got him ready to bring in Miss Bitch for a threesome.  When I finger her ass while he licks her to orgasm, i'll tweak her nipples and think of her ex-husband and how much I'll enjoy the next time he works me over.


Take down, for sure.



Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!

< Return to my blog