Dolly Hooks Up With Her Work Partner
He had been like a brother to me. Right up until I slid my lusty lips down that gorgeous thick shaft of his. I do love the thrill of the first time I taste a man’s cock. The heat. The masculine body aroma. The sensation of hardness between my lips. The twitching feel of his body’s response to my frisky tongue going up and down the gloriously stiff living sex pole that I’ll be hoping to feel inside me in three major ports of call. “Oh, fuck Dolly, mmm, shit, so damn good…” He always did say the sweetest things. So, now that I’m sucking his cock, I wondered, will we still enjoy working together as much?
Scott and I work together at a global executive security consulting firm. What is that, you ask? We’re the people who keep relatives of the mega-wealthy safe. While global economic summits and political meetings have the secret service and the CIA and Scotland Yard and all the rest of the world’s “official” agencies to make them safe, we’re the people who the private sector calls. Ever see on the news when the relative of some foreign bazillionaire, or at least pro athlete gets kidnapped? They didn’t call us.
Its sexy work at times, global travel, making sure in advance the some of the most posh places for work and play are safe, and financially, well, we do pretty well. Wink. So yes, when Dolly plays on a Dolly date, it’s pretty much totally for the sex, thrill, danger, excitement, rush of lust, to feed my carnal hunger. Though the envelopes my handsome, generous, gentleman friends (and the exclusive list of smoking hot women who I also see, in case you’re wondering) leave for me assist with my philanthropic passions. Everyone wins.
But my colleague Scott and I had been a platonic, innocently flirty pair of consultants for a handful of years and I have always been so thankful he never suspected that some of my trips were classified but personal. Going to New York, Chicago, Washington DC and similar cities doesn’t raise suspicion in my line of work. Scott is a now in his late-40’s, still has his Army Ranger body (Yum!) from before he went into military security, first while still in the Army, then upon completing his twenty years to vest in a pension, he was recruited to our firm as a partner to make use of his expertise and amazing analytical skills. When I joined the firm, his team was the area in which we were expanding so we’ve been working together since Day 1 (I could tell you more, but then I’d have to kill you. And since I’m hoping to get you in bed, I don’t want any harm to come to you, so I can’t tell you. Or at least, the only harm I want to happen to you is the usual side effects of being Dolly’s lover).
But before I get back to the story of “How Scott and Dolly Finally Hooked Up”, I just have to tell you that Scott had the best technique for fucking my mouth and cumming down my throat. I’ve had it rough and I can take it rough. Sometimes that’s a thrill ride. But I don’t have to see the guy who treats me like a slut (hey, willingly, okay, sometimes I want to be treated like a slut) the next day at the office. But Scott, he held my head just perfectly firmly, so I could feel his strength and control, his fingers buried in my long blonde hair, playing with my blonde locks just enough to know that even with every nerve ending in his cock being overloaded my expert Dolly cock licking, he still liked the silky feel. I was on my knees, his trousers kicked aside after I slid his boxers and trousers down to unleash that fine specimen of cock meat, and he bent his knees just right so that I could suck his cock, take him deep, look up and make silent, devoted eye contact with him. Damn, gets me wet all over again thinking about it. He pumped his hips into my face, but wasn’t slamming into me, only occasionally slightly gagging me. A slight gag makes it dirty and porn like. You know, awesome. Alternating between faster and slower, again, the varying speeds communicating that the powerful hunk of a man attached to the powerful hunk of cock was in control. My hands were on his hips, my fire engine red manicured nails digging in ever so slightly to his flesh. My tanned hands on his pale, untanned ass cheeks making such a hot contrast. Then he threw his head back, pumped more forcefully though not faster, and his gurgled, ‘oh God, I’m gonna, oh, uughhh, fuck, here it comes…” wasn’t really needed. Dolly knows when she’s about to receive a victorious mouthful of spunk.
His primal, helpless groan as he emptied and I sucked harder and firmly cupped his ripe, pulsing balls, his eyes straining to remain open and enjoy the cock sucking, cum swallowing porn MILF slut show I was providing. And then he locked eyes with mine, lifted me by my elbows, my skin thrilling to his touch, my black demi bra having been tossed toward his trousers, my black thigh highs and lacy thong the only thing I was still wearing. I remembered having taken my heels off when we got in the conference room, it having been a day on my feet and stilettos make my ass and legs look great, but yes, they hurt a runner’s feet. And then he kissed me. Slowly, tasting his seed, my tongue finding and pushing traces of cum, the remnants of our crossing the line together, onto his tongue. We’d never kissed before, but it was like we’d been making out for years, our mouths just knew each other. His slid his hands down my arms, pausing as he felt my triceps, and then when he reached my hands our fingers met in a way that they only rarely had touched before. “I want you,” I told him. “I want you, too,” Scott told me. And then we kissed some more, for a real long time, while our hands touched each other in ways that we had maybe only fantasized about but never before today done. Because, as I told you before, he was like a brother to me. A brother with a hot mature muscled body and an out of town wife and I’m telling you, if he had been my brother, I’m fairly sure I’d still have fucked him that night. And the next morning.
Yes, Scott was married. I liked her. Nancy was attractive, intelligent, and a General’s daughter. He’d met her when she visited her father for Christmas when General Daddy was the base commandant where Scott was then stationed. He was a star on the General’s staff. Scott had told me all about the whirlwind courtship, the General giving his approval, and all the rest of the boxes on any man’s checklist that could be checked off when it came to Nancy. Nancy was pretty, with short brunette hair, a slender but yoga-fit body, had played collegiate tennis so she had a great ass and killer legs. She was had a flat tummy, was well mannered in her behavior … and didn’t swallow. That last detail was shared over a Bordeaux in Paris before a corporate retreat we were securing. Never did get the wine stain out of my simple, scoop neck short sleeved top I was wearing after Scott provided that tid-bit and I snorted out my wine in surprise.
She also didn’t like how her body reacted to taking the pill, so Scott used condoms when they made love, he told me. Poor boy. I mean, sure, Dolly dates require condoms, but this was his marriage. Since I couldn’t mention the Dolly dates and all the sexual expertise I had professionally, I could merely reply to that piece of information (I think the condom talk was over a mineral water in London after we went for a run in the city. Mineral water doesn’t stain, but I did cough). So Scott and I shared a lot of personal info (though of course not my “Dolly dates”) and we appreciated each other’s wit, sense of humor, and it was just good chemistry. Think Matt Lauer and Katie Couric. Except way hotter.
Not that Scott was unhappy in his marriage. But his little bits of shared information showed me there were aspects of an intimate relationship with a woman he loved that were not available to him. Such as when we got a surprise rejection of a proposed arrangement from a client who changed requirements on us last minute, and I blurted out , “well fuck me in the ass!” and poor Scott never missed a beat, shaking his head, smirking, and saying, “nice to know some girls are willing to try that.” “Never?” I asked him, and he simply said, “not with Nancy. So just a faded college memory.”
But that’s not to say we didn’t get caught checking out each other’s asses, or toned abs, or legs, or shoulders, or Scott checking out my tits and me just gazing into his green eyes and imagining them close to me as I locked my heels around the backs of his thighs. Oh yeah, I frigged myself off to thoughts of Scott more than once. He did his own spit of beverage when I confessed that one to him. Killing time in JFK airport on the way to Rome, and some dude comes walking through the terminal with his hand on his junk, and I said, “jerk it at home, fella” and Scott replied, “I know, c’mon pal, we all want to, especially when we see Dolly, but save it for later.” Takes a lot to make Dolly blush, but I asked him, “do you wank yourself, even though you’re married?” “Somebody has to, um, yes Dolly. And yes, sometimes I have thought about that stars and stripes redneck patriotic bikini you wore to the July 4th cookout. Sorry, sis, your body fucking rocks and there’s not an Army Ranger alive who wouldn’t lust for you looking like that. Or any other red blooded American. Probably most of the rest of the world, too.”
I felt warm, flattered, intrigued, and love, though at the time I just thought of it as brother-sister love such as really attractive brothers and sisters share (just because siblings don’t fuck doesn’t mean they’re blind). So I confessed that I’d thought of him a time or two while twiddling my nub. We shared a smile, a twinkle in his eye, and I honestly thought it was so cool to have a happily married friend I could talk with like this.
And then Nancy was out of town. And we had end of quarter reports to do. It was unseasonably warm and the air conditioning hadn’t really caught up to the building yet. We went back and forth between computer screens, preparing the reports while reviewing and double-checking the data on another screen, and using still a third screen for email, and running back and forth between screens, off came my stilettos and so Dolly was no longer pushing six feet in heels, but rather at my own five foot seven in stockings. My white sleeveless top was sexy but not pushing it, same with my black skirt. Scott draped his sport coat on the back of a chair and loosened his tie. Most of the men at the firm dressed more casually modern, but Scott was old school military and formal. Which was what made our friendly, flirty kidding and teasing such a pleasure. To see him opening up, lightening up. The first time he and I traveled in summer and he wore shorts to the airport, seeing his legs – Wow! – that’s when I started talking with him about running and working out, and suddenly I had a gym buddy. And over the years as we just naturally felt comfortable around each other, increasingly with less and less clothing. And I never wanted to lose that wonderful, brother-like friendship so I never told him how fucking wet it made me to be around him. To see his body in athletic form when we worked out. Imagining those pushups taking place above my splay-legged body, receiving his cock into me, marking me, staking me out as his fuck toy. Or imagining that I simply mounted him in the hot tub when we’d unwind after a long day and ride him to a cascading body explosion of pleasure. God I’m a shameless cock-hunter. Especially when the cock is attached to a stud of a great guy.
“So where’s Nancy, her folks?”
“Twenty-fifth high school reunion, so she’s in Alabama, her father ran Fort Rucker when she was in high school.”
“Why didn’t you go? Twenty-fifth is a big deal, she could show you off, make all the other MILFs jealous.”
Scott looked over his shoulder and smiled, and I saw his eyes trace my legs up and down before settling on my boobs for a second too long to be innocent, then up to my eyes. “She told me I wouldn’t know anyone, that I’d be bored. I hadn’t realized she was in touch with anyone from back then, but she said they all stay in touch by Facebook.” He half-shrugged, turned back to the screen, and in an attempt to return to work project mode, asked, “are these demographics correct for the Quebec City summit?”
I walked up behind him, rested my hands on his shoulders and looked at the screen. “No, that’s Quebec, the whole province, not just Quebec City. The field must have done auto-fill upon reading Quebec, before City was typed in. Try re-sending by code rather than typing in via search.” We got a much smaller population profile back. Quebec City, not the entire province.
“Dolly to the rescue again, thanks Doll.”
Okay, nobody calls me Doll. Men, don’t do it on a Dolly date. Please. There is exactly one man on the planet who I love to hear call me Doll. And at that moment my nails dug a little into his shoulders, sorry, just a turn on that this hunk of everything masculine has a pet name for me.
“Mmmm, Doll, if you’re going to be digging your nails into me you’re going to get me in trouble. What will Nancy think?”
“She isn’t jealous of our relationship, is she?”
“Oh, no, she isn’t. I kind of wish she was, though. I mean, as much time as you and I are together, all the traveling, kidding around, hotels and overnight assignments, we could have been deep into an affair and yet she’s never shown any concern. She likes you.”
This time I squeezed, no nails, more like the start of an amateur neck and shoulder rub. “We could have, couldn’t we?” And there it was. The feeling of heat. Moist heat. In my sexual core. So, why hadn’t I ever seduced him? After all, I AM Dolly Jewel, I wondered.
He clicked save, and reached up, a hand on mine. And I interlocked my fingers with his. We’d done this before, and it always meant trust, respect, that we could rely on each other. And he rubbed my palm with his thumb. So I spread open my other hand and slid it down from his shoulder to his chest. I hadn’t done that before.
“We still could, you know,” I told him. And our interlocked fingers squeezed.
He turned and looked into my eyes. We released fingers, and he stood, turning to face me, looking down. “Usually your eyes are up here, “ was his observational comment, meaning, the level of his own eyes. Our hands found each other’s waists now that we were facing each other. And he had a bulge in his pants like I’d only occasionally noticed in all our time together.
I slid on hand up his back toward his neck, the other down to his ass, like holding a not-yet ripe melon, hard, firm, unyielding. “Well bring your eyes down here to mine. Your lips, too.”
I’ve told you about our kiss. I’ve told you about us removing most of the clothes we had on, sinking to my knees, all of this in silence from the time we kissed to the time he started grunting and moaning his pleasure rant during my blowjob.
How he fucked my mouth perfectly, making me feel desired, sexual, slutty. A pleasurable sensation of powerlessness, being the source and object of his pleasure, my own thrill of being hot enough to make this prized man break his vows for the first time for me. Yes, we’d discussed whether or not he’d “cheated”. Little did he know of my hidden agenda when I tried to trick him into confessing to seeing escorts when I said, “You know it’s not cheating if you pay her, so you’ve seen escorts, right?” Alas, when I’d asked him, he’d just said, ‘Nope.” And yes, as I pushed back a mini-globette of his cum into his mouth during the kiss we shared after I swallowed his hot seed that he pumped into my mouth, I was so tempted to ask him, “still so sure you haven’t had sex with a hot escort?” But that wasn’t the time, I didn’t want to win, or go one-up, or shock him. I wanted to have more of him, for him to have more of me.
He’d gotten hard again when he knelt, sat me in a chair, put my legs up on his shoulders, and tasted my creamy, slick pussy. He was deliberate, taking his time, mature, careful. Okay, maybe too respectful – it felt amazing and I came, but as I did I hoped I would have the nerve to give him pointers on how to be dirtier and a bit more forceful when using his mouth to pleasure me. But “Eat that pussy like a porn star” didn’t seem like good first love-making conversation.
Did I say love-making? Remember, this wasn’t a Dolly date. But yeah, still, he WAS married.
We fucked with me bent over the conference room table. Gave it all to me in one strong thrust, and I was so damned wet I took him in full, and he held my hips as I gripped the table. I pushed back, timing his thrusts, and we were very much fucking each other. Then he turned me to face him. I jumped to be in his arms, his hands on my ass carrying me, supporting me, while I wrapped my legs around him. Scott backed me against the wall and fucked me standing, my body wrapped around his.
I’d plucked a condom out of my bag. As a single, attractive woman, whom Scott knew to have a sexual appetite (I’d caused him to spray a few drinks out of his mouth when I shared sexual exploits over the years), he didn’t blink that I had one. He bit my lower lip when he filled that condom deep inside my womanhood. I’m not some ninety-eight pound spinner, I’m an athlete and I’m not usually having sex in that position. Gawd it was hot. I used my mouth to clean him again. I told him I wanted to ride him, to lay down. I brought him back to erect status once more, and was stripper sliding on him, by now, fully nude body to fully nude body. “Dolly, fuck me, ride my fucking cock Doll, it feels so good being with you.”
I’d like to tell you I was responsible. I’d like to tell you that I took a moment to disengage our sweaty, sex-stank’d bodies and pulled another condom out of my designed bag. That I winked, ripped the wrapper open with my teeth, rolled it over his impressively hard yet again cock with my mouth. And that I did cowgirl, Asian cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, and then just plain fucked him hard until I tugged the cover off and took his cum on my tits. And followed that up by sticking my finger first into his mouth, then scooping up his goo from my flesh, sucking my finger clean, and then having him suck that finger, too. And not have to tell you instead that it was too long coming, my chance to fuck Scott, for me to break up the thrill ride with putting a rain coat on. Or that I figured since he was fully faithful and was wearing a condom when he was with Nancy, that he must be clean and so I simply pushed myself down onto his cock and rode him bareback until I felt him flex, spasm, and blow his man fluid into my tight, shaved pussy. That I touched my lips to his without kissing when I did that, whispering, ‘its okay, Scott, I’m on the pill, we’re both clean”. Or maybe my memory is cloudy and I can’t remember which of those two fucks I just described was there in the conference room, and which was back at my place after an hour later. I’m kidding. I remember every drop of sweat, every muscle tightening grip on each other’s body, every kiss, every thrust. The way my labia clung to his thick tool as he retreated before the next thrust. I still think of him as my brother. My dirty kinky fantasy role play not really my brother but really my work fuck-buddy kind of a brother. He says things are less tense with him and Nancy now that he and I have added the benefits to our friendship. He asks if it’s okay, that we have this sexual thing going on. That he hopes I understand he loves what we have, but doesn’t want to lose Nancy. He still doesn’t know about my Dolly dates. So when I tell him I understand, and I hope our time together does make his home life better, he shakes his head and says he’s so glad I’m so cool about it. If he only knew.
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!