I have to confess, one of my dirtier sick fantasies that I will never act upon is sexually corrupting my cousin Sheila’s son Harvey. In fact, that fantasy has often turned into a melting hot MFF with Sheila joining in. Sheila is an early 40’s MILF, hazel eyes, shoulder length lustrous brunette hair, more of a petite cheerleader type than I am, standing just 5’3”, maybe 115 lbs. of toned former cheerleader now matured into a flat-tummied, 32C busted yoga instructor with femininity through the roof to go with her sex appeal. And Harvey was basically like a young Rob Lowe, so damned good looking he was intimidating to many girls because he was candidly prettier than the young ladies named to the homecoming court. Not effeminate, but eyes, smile, dimples, eye lashes, even good looking hands… okay, see what I mean, do you get the idea why I fantasize about fucking the shit out of cousin Sheila’s son. Sometimes I wonder if I should expand the fantasy and add details involving Harvey and Sheila having hot times with each other during this interlude. Oh not the full Oedipus treatment, maybe just she and I sharing his cock in a sloppy wet deep throated bareback blowjob. And she and I could take turns being on the receiving end of the CIMNQNS finish. Then she and I would kiss deeply, and I’d share of what I secretly didn’t swallow.
I know, I know, pushing the envelope, even for me. After all, when I’m not being the Dolly Jewel you’ve gotten to know through my blog and hopefully in person during an endorphin releasing Dolly date, I’m an educated, successful professional, socially conscious, philanthropic, with many other boring qualities as well. But when I’m in my Dolly state of mind, damn, sometimes rules don’t really apply. But this is just a fantasy, this Harvey and Sheila stuff. Or at least it always was until Harvey’s college graduation weekend.
Spoiler Alert: No, I didn’t fuck Harvey. Okay? Are we good here? And no, not to my knowledge, Harvey and Sheila have not gotten jiggy with each other. Like I say, not to my knowledge. I mean, when they were late to Thanksgiving and arrived all sweaty and flushed, I believed them when they explained about the flat tire on I-95 and all that. As for whether my sexy cousin and I ever experimented at least between the two of us, well, a girl’s gotta learn to kiss somewhere, boys. But back to Harvey’s graduation from Tulane.
Oh yes, did I leave out that the handsomest cousin the family went to college in New Orleans, where drinking alcohol from an open container in the middle of the street and flashing your boobs are not only legal, but I swear it seems like those activities are mandatory. A campus full of spoiled attractive girls, many of the slutty little local debutantes with classy sounding names of French origin, others having driven in from Texas on I-10 to share their long legged, big haired blonde boobalicious Texas good looks, as well as the campus’ supply of imported New York girls bringing their northern reputation to the Big Easy. I’m surprised Harvey graduated, because that boy must have had multiple opportunities to fuck and be sucked by hotties every night for four years. While getting 32 ounce frozen daiquiris from a drive through window. I know – how did Dolly miss out on going to school in NOLA? Not to worry, because Harvey’s graduation let me know that I now have yet another city on my favorite fun sexy destinations list.
Teased you long enough, let me tell you about a New Orleans erotic graduation weekend to remember. So after Sheila and I flew in together, we took a funky, marijuana-smelling cab in from Louis Armstrong Airport (Isn’t that the coolest airport name in America, named for Satchmo and all that jazz?), we arrived at the Royal Sonesta, pretty much ground zero for the French Quarter on Bourbon Street. We checked in, got to the room, found two queen size beds (always love when they’re queen size, and not the old, smaller, double-bed size), unpacked a little, and then after I opened up my notebook computer and logged on and got on the internet to check emails. I figured I’d be checking more later, so I left the computer on and open on the desk opposite the bed in spite of the warnings that they’ll rob you right in your hotel room in New Orleans. Sheila and I strolled back to Canal Street and caught the Street Car uptown along St. Charles to Tulane to find Harvey. Yes, you can bring your alcoholic beverage onto the Street Car. Sheila, who’s been divorced since she and her husband experimented with swinging and she found out what she’d been missing all those years, was looking hot, showing tanned cleavage, and tanned toned legs, white short denim shorts and a canary yellow top, tight and scoop necked. As per my usual, when traveling I try not to look like the Dolly at my webpage (you guys like my latest photos?). I had a black skirt, sandals with just few inches of heel, a red sleeveless top, and my blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail. I wore oversized sunglasses to shade my blue eyes from the glare.
And when we arrived uptown, opposite Audubon Park, we got off the street car and strolled through the campus, past palm trees and hundred year old academic buildings, then past the Navy ROTC headquarters on Freret Street (yes, that’s how it is spelled) and I saw some very yummy military-style young men –appetizers-- with no shirts marching around those grounds! We went on up Willow Street to Harvey’s dorm on the grounds of the former original Sugar Bowl Stadium. And that is where I met Harvey’s roommate, Brian. And Brian’s mom and dad, Scott and Michelle. They were a bit older than Sheila, and we learned Brian was their youngest of three, their last graduation. Michelle was a pretty in a trophy wife who doesn’t hit the gym but is still gorgeous sort of a way. As Harvey and Brian’s friends came in and out, they checked out Michelle along with me and Sheila. Michelle, Sheila and I tried to make small talk while not letting on that we’d already gotten just a wee bit tipsy. We got some interesting looks from Michelle. I wondered if she was looking at us that way because: a) we didn’t hide our tipsiness very well; or b) the part she told us about wanting to stay in the quarter and getting “stuck” as she put it, in Windsor Court, which is near the Quarter but not IN the Quarter. Never mind that the Windsor Court is five star and a couple of my most luxurious Dolly dates took place there during medical conventions. Or there was a third reason that might have explained the way she looked at us attitude: c) Scott couldn’t keep his eyes off Sheila, and he managed a few glances at me, too, and she didn’t seem pissed about him checking us out, so maybe she was more fun than the spoiled country club persona revealed initially. Scott looked to be mid-50’s, just starting to add gray to his dark brown hair, maybe six feet tall and carrying some extra pounds. Life is so unfair – Scott wore those extra pounds so much better than a woman could, he was cute, huggable, and reminded me of some of my best Dolly dates.
There was a pre-commencement concert on a grassy quad, with jambalaya, gumbo, beer, Hurricanes from Pat O’Brien’s, and we all went and it was fun, loud, and hot and sweaty. Michelle and I got talking about the trip in (they were from Chicago, another majorly fun city), and I saw Harvey surrounded by sorority girls, all with great slender tanned legs and tight asses that young twenty-somethings have to make the rest of us work double hard on lunges and the rest to try to keep what our legs and asses looking fuckable. I heard a couple of Alpha Epsilon Pi brothers use the word “MILF” and saw them staring and me and my cousin (boys, don’t wear your fraternity shirts with the sewn on letters if you want to appear grown up and appealing to a lady in her late 30’s, it makes you look like jail bait, even if you did have gorgeous five o’clock shadows and fun looking bodies I’d have enjoyed riding) and I was feeling good about things, with a slight buzz from the Hurricane (hey, I’m from Miami, I love the idea of a fun drink named after the football team at The U. Oh, that’s not where the name comes from?).
And then the dancing started, hot humid and sweaty, and Scott was just swaying, and I was thought back to when Michelle was checking us out so I grabbed his hand and asked Michelle, “can I borrow your man for a dance, promise to bring him back no worse for wear”. Sheila smiled, winked and nodded toward the dance area while talking with Sheila. I was glad that she was fine with it, and noticed that she was lightly touching Sheila’s toned arms while close talking with her, the better to be heard in a noisy environment. I interlocked my fingers with Scott as he led me through the parents, graduating seniors and under-aged siblings into a sedate, fun dance crowd. It was too loud to hear what Scott was saying, but he had a smile, a laugh, just an overall fun sense about him. I pressed my body close to his for a slow sensual swaying sort of a dance to “who were you thinking of when we were making love last night.” (Go ahead, Google that song. Fun lyrics about thinking of someone else while fucking your spouse.)
And that’s when I felt it. Scott was hard, it was pressing into me right back the way my firm enhanced D-cup girls were pressed into him. I smiled my wide Dolly smile, and darn if he just shrugged and said, “I went to Tulane, too, and met Michelle here the first day of class so never dated anyone else, but always wanted to hook up with a sexy hard-bodied goddess like you.”
Want to improve your odds of getting my skilled mouth on you, and getting your manhood into me? Call me a sexy hard-bodied goddess. “If that’s your way of trying to get me into bed, Scott, it’s working, keep going.” I said to him, hoping he’d understand that I wasn’t just joking, and I was hoping he was serious, too. “But I can’t hold a candle to my sexy cousin Sheila”. Wanted to see what he’d say. “Yeah, always wanted to hook up with a girl like her, too. And you’re both single?” This was going well. Very well, and my body, already responding naturally to a warm, humid evening filled with alcohol, music and young attractive bodies was amping up in the natural lubrication department. My eyes met his and my nipples hardened. That wedding ring on his hand only made this seem more fun and naughty.
We looked over at Brian and Harvey, young hottie boys that they were, and they were attracting a flock of coeds in heat. I hoped those girls were on birth control. Two cuties each took each of these boys by the hands and started leading them back toward their on-campus apartment. Harvey looked over his shoulder, made eye contact with me, winked, and grinned. I blew him a kiss, and he responded. Maybe I don’t fuck him, but okay, I do flirt with him. Damn he’s cute. Hey, wait, Brian wasn’t family, why didn’t I think to teach him what a real woman could offer him that Sally sorority girl couldn’t? Oh, right, because Brian’s father Scott was well on his way to having me.
I grabbed Scott’s ass and pulled his cock tight against me and stretched upward to whisper in his ear, “so you want Sheila and me to take you away like the boys just got taken away with their two girls each?” I felt his cock twitch at the suggestion. I had my answer.
We returned to my cousin and Michelle, and found them giggling, a bit more tipsy since they had been drinking while Scott and I had been flirting and then vertically dry humping. They seemed as if they were the closest of BFF’s, with lots of familiarity in the way they touched each other with gestures, hands on the small of each other’s backs. This evening was looking better than if we’d have gone ahead and gotten those reservations at Commander’s Palace that we considered and then decided against.
We were all hot and sweaty, and we saw that the boys had left us text messages telling us that they didn’t expect to see us again that night but gave us directions for where to meet them the next day downtown near the Superdome for the graduation ceremony. We poured our sweaty selves into another crowded cab and headed down to the central business district, to the Windsor Court. Michelle, who was a bit taller than me, about 5’8” with highlighted blonde hair and green eyes, naturally slender, perfect make up with seductress red nails and lips, responded to the close quarters of the taxi by suggesting that Sheila snuggle close and drape her legs across Michelle’s. Like Sheila needed an invite! And when Scott made the same suggestion to me, Michelle whispered something to Scott and then smiled at me, even took my hand in hers after I was draped over her husband’s horny cock and my cousin was wrapping her tanned arms around Michelle’s elegant neck. I detected some unspoken communication between Scott and Michelle. Sheila and I exchanged a glance and a mini-shrug, conveying, “hey, this turned out to be fun, didn’t it?” to each other. I whispered to Scott, “they sure look cozy” and he leaned close to reply, his lips and hot breath on my ear as again I felt his cock twitch and strain against me, “so do we. Have you seen the Windsor Court suites?”
Now when I’m in civilian life I have to stifle many urges to broadcast my Dolly triumphs. Hell yes I’d seen those suites, and I’ve spent the night sharing pleasure with a surgeon from Atlanta and darn those marble bathrooms are nicer than the one I have at home. “Mmmm, I’d love you to show me, I’m so sweaty I could use a shower, are the bathrooms nice?” I gave him a peck on the lips, and felt him brush my lips with his tongue but I’d broken off the kiss before I could suck that tongue to give him a preview of what I was going to do to that hard fuckstick poking me from below. I felt nails rake my back, turned, and saw Michelle smiling and wink at me. Then she closed her eyes, and I realized part of her ecstasy was Sheila’s lips on Michelle’s neck, and her left hand down to Michelle’s shapely B-cup breast, outside the blouse, thumb and forefinger working Michelle’s nipple. Bi-sexy slut, that cousin of mine.
When we pulled up to the Windsor Court, Sheila gave Michelle’s neck a little lick and then called out, without even turning to look at us, that she was going to show Michelle the Sonesta, since Michelle had wished she could have stayed in the quarter, but that we should go on inside and they’d join us back here later. Scott and I laughed, and after I dismounted his lap (and realized that I’d shifted around so that I was straddling and dry humping him on the ride from the Uptown campus), Scott leaned back in and softly kissed Michelle, then realized how close Sheila’s face was to his, that he could smell her trace of perfume in her hair, and kissed her, too. I saw tongues greet each other as Michelle reached up and stroked her husband’s noticeable stiff rod of excitement, and so did Sheila for a second or two before she broke off the kiss. Scott reached in his pocket and dropped a couple Fifty Dollar bills on the seat next to Sheila and Michelle and told the driver to take these ladies to the Sonesta.
The Cocktail Bar at the Windsor Court was classy, elegant, and while our authentic New Orleans Sazerac Cocktails were only enhancing my mood, it was clear that we were in heat and the other patrons were more sedate. So after I sucked Scott ear lobe I whispered that he needed to take me upstairs and fuck me hard and long. Only when I saw everyone else’s face did I realize that no, I hadn’t whispered, I’d been loud and clear. “The lady knows what she wants” he said and he took me by the hand and we headed to the elevator. I managed not to maul him when I recognized that we weren’t alone in the elevator. When the older couple got out on the third floor, leaving just the two of us I went for it, grabbing Scott by the shoulders, lifting myself up and kissing him full on the mouth, which produced a quick surrender by him and a quick invasion by my tongue. His hands on my ass, mine clawing at his chest, and I was about to rub one out against his hip when we got to my floor. Somehow we disengaged and I trotted as best I could in my high heeled sandals to my room and he stayed close to my ass, and I managed to get the do not disturb sign on the outside of the door before closing it and dropping to my knees. I knew we were sweaty, and could use a shower, but I needed the flavor and aroma of a lustful man’s cock in my face and mouth. He was thick, and maybe seven inches. Circumcised, and the tip already smeared with his precum. The musky sweaty scent filled my nostrils as his cock filled my mouth, and I slowly moved back and forth, deepening a bit each time, with a lollipop tongue and lip sucking as I felt the last fibers of his cock fill with raging blood, leaving him with a diamond cutter of a hard-on. Scott’s fingers ran through my hair, and I reached up with my right hand to feel his left hand. I stroked his left ring finger, loving that once again I’d inspired a married man’s desires to the point where he wanted me, needed me, had to have me, to take my body for his pleasure and his outside life ignored when in my company. Scott was going to fuck me, and he was already thrusting his hips. I moved my left hand up to stroke his spit coated man-stick as I smacked my mouth off his and looked up into his eyes. “Shower with me, I want you clean everywhere I’m going to taste, and I want you tasting me at my best, too.” I felt him twitch in my hand as I slowly, with expert pressure, stroked with a slight clockwise twist around the circumference of his shaft, upward from the base to just below the head.
I set the shower temperature, and we stripped each other, kissing, stroking, and yes I kept dropping down to my knees for another luck along the sensitive underside of his cock or another full mouth suck, then back up to keep stripping him. His hands got very familiar with my tits, and I’d thrust my tongue hard into his mouth when I’d stand back up, knowing he was tasting traces of his own hot & sweaty cock from my lips. When I slid my black thong down, his eyes grew wide and he smiled as he saw that I was without any tan lines and without any hair below my eye lashes. My athletics has produced a wonderful side effect, that being my prominent clitoris, and Scott quickly twiddled my fleshy labia and then slid through my drenched and ready to be fucked opening to then play with his pre-lubed fingers on that clit of which I am so proud. On most Dolly dates I don’t leave bit marks. At least not with married lovers or those with significant others who might get suspicious. I’d seen that whatever the story was with Scott and Michelle, whether it was swingers, or just mutually agreed open marriage, or some other explanation of this wonderful fuck fest my cousin Sheila and I had stumbled into, so I didn’t hesitate to bite the front of Scott’s shoulder as I lifted my knee to open up access to my sex for his skilled hand as I clung to him. Two fingers penetrating me, a bit of exploration, around, then deep, and then returning to the G-spot base camp and shifting my motor into a higher gear by teasing the sensitive textured sex flesh he’d found inside my pussy. “Get in here and let’s get clean, now.” I wasn’t asking. And he wasn’t hesitating.
We soaped each other up, stroked, twiddled, kissed, nibbled. I teased my clit with his cock but didn’t let him penetrate me, but let him feel that even in a watery downpour in that powerful shower big enough for two to walk into, he could feel the thick slickness of my body’s fluids preparing me to be fucked by this man. He would good with his hands, and I suddenly slowed down my attention to his body and looked in his eyes as he brought me up to one plateau, then another, and then over the top as I tremored and then my body spasmed into orgasmic release with this wonderful married man. I’d have fucked him right there in the shower, but my safety instincts made me instead tell him, “I’ve got condoms in my bag next to the bed, lets towel off and I want to wrap you and ride you.” He kissed me, this time his mouth doing the driving, sensually, and reached down to my fitness toned ass and lifted me, pressed me against the wall, and did an external stripper slide motion with his cock along my pussy, and slid a strong thick finger into my ass. Damn near said the hell with it and mounted him, and grunted many times, ugh, mmm, oh, fuck, fuck yes…uh, uh, uh, nnnn, ahh, fuck it all, yes….” Love when I’m so turned on that I make nonsensical slut talk sounds like that.
Somehow I led him to the bed and we did a halfway decent job with the towels and then he playfully pushed me down on my back and went to go between my legs, which I opened wide for him. “Yessss, taste me, taste my fucking pussy, see how wet I am for you, you already made me cum now taste the wonderful cum you made happen in me.” I arched my back, pulled one leg up over my head, and dug the fingers of my other hand into Scott’s hair. Waves of pleasure streaming from my core. “Lick me baby, taste it, oh God, …ugh, fuck, don’t ever fucking stop….” My freshly showered and toweled body was quickly getting re-coated by a light sheen of perspiration, pleasure induced. I threw my head back and just grabbed his head like my own private pleasure tool, which I guess at that point it was, and humped and thrashed all over his married face. “Oh, oh God, mmmm, oh yeah, here it comes, here I am baby, here it ….” I never got out another word before I squirted my body’s special sex fluid all over his eager pussy lapping face. If being tasered caused pleasure, I think that is what it would feel like. I was electric with bliss.
I felt him move, but my eyes were closed and I was babbling in nonsensical post climactic euphoria. I felt something touch my lips. Felt it with my lips, detected the sculpted underside of a circumcised cock head. I instinctively extended my tongue, found my mouth’s place and started pleasuring and lightly sucking and playing with the head and I felt it swell a last few degrees to full mast, ready to penetrate steel. I heard the zipper of my bag next to the bed. Scott fingers touch my lips. “Let me suit up”. And then he was over me, his mouth, fully flavored with my pussy, were on mine. This was a kiss of …well, not lovers, but definitely two people who loved sex with each other. I opened my legs and wrapped them around his hips, resting my feel on the backs of his thighs, my knees bent up, as Scott wrapped an arm under my neck, cradled my head, then took my hand with his free hand, interlocked fingers with me and pushed my hand in surrender, please fuck me position back onto the sheet, above my head, back of my hand to the linens. I felt his sheathed manhood slide along my opening, no hand to guide the entry angle and our bodies were fully enraptured with each other, then his hips shifted once more, he had the proper angle, and he thrust, once, twice, three times into me. Ground himself against my over-stimulated clit and then moved his grinding into a circle. Shit, just right, and I tightened my legs around him as he bit my bottom lip softly and made shorter, harder pushes a part of our fucking, and again, I gushed and came. Something so hot about being controlled and not able to thrash and cry out because my lover is physically dominant when I come and my mouth is not even able to cry out because his tongue is muffling my pleasure.
And that’s when I heard the door slam shut!
Hadn’t heard it open, but now my eyes were open but before I could react, and Scott had only slowed down when I came, he hadn’t stopped, I heard Sheila call out, “Dolly, its us.” “Us”, she’d said. Michelle was here, too, that meant. Unless it meant she had Harvey with her. Which one of them would I rather fuck, Michelle or Harvey? My mind knew no taboo-related limitations. I was little more than a sexually controlled pleasure giver and taker for the rest of the night.
It was Michelle with Sheila. My incestuous fantasies about my nephew would have to wait at least a little longer, if not forever. They both smiled, and without speaking, looked at each other and stripped, then deeply kissed, tongues dancing open mouthed for me to see, and by this time Scott had turned over his shoulder, though he hadn’t withdrawn his filling, stretching, pleasing fuck tool from me. These new sisters of sin took each other’s hand and walked the last few steps to the bed. The paused and Michelle knelt down near the intersection of my sex with Scott’s and that intersection was a traffic jam made busier when Michelle’s tongue traced its way around Scott’s shaft and my deeply lubricated, well filled and fucked pussy. God, pair of nice tongues this husband and wife had.
Sheila stepped to the head of the bed, lightly stroked my exposed breast and bent her knees far enough so that her nipple, nicely brown and no tan lines, was offered to Scott, who eagerly accepted the offer. Scott sped up his fucking and Michelle’s fingers and tongue became sexual add-ons down there. Scott released Sheila’s nipple from his lips, kissed me, the unclasped our fingers and straightened up, uncradling my head. Now his torso was vertical as he fucked me, my legs still clinging around his hips and ass, while Sheila took his face in her hands and passionately kissed him, “Mmmmm, you taste like pussy,” she huskily stated, “My sweet cousin Dolly’s slutty pussy, I assume”. We chuckled, and then Michelle climbed over me onto the bed, turned around, then dropped down to elbows and knees, her creamy, landing stripped love opening now in my face and her tongue was alternating duty between Scott’s cock and my clit. God damn, Laissez les bons temps rouler! My hands now free, I spread her lips open for deep tongue insertions, and saw from the swelling that Michelle had been thoroughly explored, presumably fingers and mouth only as no cum aftertaste could be found, and I knew Sheila and Michelle had been as thorough as Scott and I were being. Michelle’s body was lovely, slender and feminine, like I always envision when thinking about seducing a beautiful wife who has never been with a woman or been to a gym, someone from outside my world. Her fair skin revealed that she doesn’t lay out in the sun, and her tushy was soft, yet still shapely. She was totally sweet and fresh and clean and I licked all over her taint and rimmed her asshole, causing her to squirm and her lips to clench on my overly-aroused pink girl down in Clittyville. I peaked around the lovely ass I was munching to see Sheila reach around Scott’s back, likely teasing his ass or prostate, or just pressing the base of his sack as his cock sped up. I was impressed by how long this had gone on, and my new lover was seconds from his limit. As his moaning increased and his head moved back, Michelle pushed his abdomen back as well, causing me that sad, empty, “hey, where did that cock that was filling me so good go” feeling. She unwrapped him and Sheila dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around Scott’s cock, sucking and swallowing the first shot, then moving off so that the second one could hit Michelle in the face with the familiar scent and taste of her husband’s spunk, and then Michelle and Sheila co-jerked him, tongues along his shaft too, so that his last spurts landed just under my thoroughly fucked pussy and pooled in my puckered rosebud, which was pointed to the ceiling from the angle at which Scott and been fucking me and Michelle had been tasting me. Michelle then licked that pool of seed clean from my hole and rimmed me for good measure.
Now, you remember how I mentioned that our room in the Sonesta had two queen sized beds? Well, both were fully occupied during the few hours of sleep we got that night, and then the next morning there were even more permutations of multiple bodies engaging in each other. But I’m still not telling if Sheila and I did anything more than that initial semi-innocent little titty stroke her fingers gave me just before she went to work on Scott that first night. And sexy hunky Harvey? Well, he simply assumed we were all just so damned proud of him and his roommate Brian. We all talked about making a group trip back to New Orleans for the boys’ first homecoming as Tulane alumni this fall. Wonder if Brian inherited his father’s tongue -- or his mother’s!
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!