Minnesota or Michigan

One of my dear Dolly date lovers loves to tell me jokes, and some of the jokes are actually funny.  I asked him if I could write a blog entry inspired by one of the jokes he told me.  He hesitated, so I made it "worth his while".  When he caught his breath, and after I'd rinsed, he gasped, "yes, Dolly, of course you can use that joke in your blog...and I've got other jokes, too, maybe you could persuade me to let you use those as well...."


He's so cute.  I did give him some more pleasure, so if you see a few funny blog entries in the future, after this one, you'll know I earned the right to post the funny story inspired by his joke.  *Wink.  After all, these stories are just fictional for your entertainment, right?  Nothing like these stories EVER truly happened to me....




Brian and I had been having Dolly dates for a couple years, and he was always fun.  Brian was in his early sixties, and had been through a trio of marriages that had all ended in divorce, yet somehow he maintained his upbeat outlook and fun attitude.  He wasn't a terribly great lover, but that was something he'd worked into his jokes.  On a couple of rare occasions we'd gone to a social event and I was introduced as his date (which I was) and we invented the back story that I was a consultant (which I am) and was in town on business (we left out any reference to that business including the Dolly date itself).  Brian was the life of the party, self-deprecating humor and cure in his mature pudginess and world-wise outlook.


Among Brian's quips--some to me as pillow talk, some among friends while dressed and pretending we weren't on a Dolly date:


"You know, Dolly, thank goodness you know CPR because lovemaking with you is pretty dangerous for a man in such poor shape as I am...."


"Oh, this is my friend Dolly.  We're just friends, but now that I've gotten divorced again, maybe I'll ask her out.  Sure, she's way out of my league, but it really wouldn't be much of an imposition on her.  I mean, really, look at me, even if she made love to me daily, that would take up, what, a total of maybe just fifteen minutes of her week?  Or less if I didn't stop to take my shoes off."


"Dolly, ever see that movie where the one pretty girl who is maybe a seven makes herself look like a nine by surrounding herself with ugly girls?  Well you must really be a twelve when you're not near me, because even laying in bed with an over the hill old man like me, you're still a ten."


We went to comedy clubs, sporting events, outdoor festivals.  Ballooning in New Mexico, a mimosa at sunrise, it was lovely. 


I also thought it was lovely that he referred to our intimacy as "making love".  Sure, the word "fuck" can really be hot, but this girl has a sensual side, and making love, mmmmm, that's something I need in my life, too.


The one exception was the time he took me up to a beautiful lake, a secluded cabin, hiking trails, roaring fire place, redwood hot tub with deer walking by (perhaps the ultimate experience of being in nature while making love!), and then we were in a flat bottomed row boat on the lake, and we were making love--or so I thought--when he told me that being with me in that boat, just a thin aluminum hull between our bodies and the lake, was a lot like Coors Light.


"Why is making love to me in the row boat like Coors Light?"


"Because it’s fucking close to water."




Brian lived in the Midwest, the Great Lakes part of the country.  "Big Ten Country" he informed me.  He knew I dabbled a bit in sports.


I let him slide on that one, not wanting to pick a fight about Southern college football being so superior to Big Ten football.  Let him have it his way, I'm all about my man's pleasure.


And then Brian wanted to celebrate a big win by his school by wearing a varsity letter sweater, real old school seventies looking item, while he and I made love.


Big embroidered letter in the middle of the sweater.


"Um, Brian dear, your sweater might get love juices on it."


"It’s okay Dolly, I've had this fantasy and the fantasy is about doing this with you.  I didn't really earn the varsity letter -- I mean, come on, look at me, you think I was a jock forty plus years ago?  I bought it on eBay. Please?"


I'd brought his dick to my mouth again, the better to slide my tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, when he said he'd bought it on eBay and I snorted and his saliva encased cock popped out of my lips when I laughed.


Again, charm goes a long way with me.


And so we made love the rest of the afternoon, in a variety of positions for intercourse and oral.  He only wore the sweater part of the time.  But my flat, toned, tanned tummy did end up with a tell-tale abrasion that looked like the block letter on his varsity sweater.  Sigh.  And I had one more appointment in a nearby city on that trip before I headed back to Florida. 


A lovely Dolly date in spite of the abrasion.  And I decided to just be honest about the marking on my skin with my next Dolly date. 




So there I was, the last Dolly date on the trip, with Brendan, to a wonderful outcall to a nice hotel and we'd started with drinks and I'd arrived in a business outfit, my mid-section covered up.  This nice man enjoyed me simply emerging fully nude from the bathroom after freshening up, so as I excused myself, I made a mental sigh and got ready to explain.


And when I emerged, Brendan's eyes grew wide in a "WTF?" sort of questioning expression.  Oh dear, I really should have applied more lotion, the letter was much more visible than I'd thought.


"Dear, let me explain, my last date was having a special day related to his alma mater and he wore his old varsity sweater during sex and the letter rubbed this mark into my skin."


"Well, which school did he go to, Minnesota or Michigan?"


"Oh, no, that's not an "M" – it’s just upside down, he went to Wisconsin!"


"And I suppose his uniform number was sixty-nine?"


"Well, I don't know if it was his uniform number, but as you can clearly see, it was definitely his position!"


Thsi one was for fun!

< Return to my blog