The Thrill Of It All

The Dow Jones Industrial Index and the S&P 500 are at record highs.

I get my record high every time a dazed man has to pull himself away from me, mutters something about wishing he never had to leave through his post-orgasmic fog and take his leave of our love nest where for a few hours, or on lucky occasions an overnight, or a weekend or even longer(lucky for me, lucky for him, and when I get around to memorializing the amazing fun with changed names, lucky for you, my readers).

And yes, it’s a thrill to be rewarded with an envelope from you generous friends.

Too crass?  Permit me to explain.  I recently ran into the first man who ever "paid" me for spending pleasurable time with him.  And I remember the tingle I felt deep inside my well-fucked pussy that day when I counted the Benjamins. Such a thrill!

"But I'd have fucked him just for the pleasure of it!" I thought at the time. "And I have wanted to fuck him for a long time, and was so excited when he picked up on the fact that I was letting him know I wanted him to have me, and that I wanted to have him." I thought that as I showered the dried cum off my tanned, toned and lean sexy runner's body, my fingers drifting down to the parts of me that were still tender from frankly an exciting and uninhibited sex romp.

And then finding that piece of hotel stationary folded over and the currency in the middle, and he had written, "It was all I had with me, but spending time with you is worth so much more amazing than I always thought it would be the many times I imagined having a chance with you.  Dolly, you're the best lover ever."

I closed my eyes, squeezed my breasts as the warm shower ran over my body, some sore muscles in various places on my body feeling better, my thumbs and forefingers tweaking my nipples, remembering his scent, the feel of his skin, the illicit sense of victory knowing that he was married and how much he put on the line to get time away and be with me.  Me!

A hand drifted down between my breasts, following the flow of the shower water, over my firm, flat abs, past when I'd have had some hair down there except that I'm so blessed to have come into my womanhood after bush became passé.   I started to work myself, my hot button of a clit, my full, sensuous labia, my finger sensing that some of the fluids I felt were thicker than shower water.  Then into me my finger ventured, searching for the source, the point of origin.  Oh God, I slumped forward and had to release my other breast so that I could use the hand that wasn't twiddling my body to brace against the subway tiles lining the shower walls.  His eyes, brown eyes, the crow’s feet at the side, his graying whiskers, strong hands from years of wood working, physical labor-ish hobbies when he wasn't coaching high school sports....

No!  I wasn't fucking my high school coach for money!  Though if you search through my blog, you'll see I did eventually fuck my high school coach, but that was later, after I graduated, when our school's football team had a great victory and we got swept up in the excitement.  No, that coach didn't have the money to pay me, he really was a high school teacher and coach like you read about, the definition of middle class.  So who was this high school coach who had thrilled me with his body, his mouth, his hands, his skills, his patience, and then made me blush with the compliment of his notes and the hundred dollar bills?

Don't hate me, but there I was, enthralled by having fucked the rival high school's head coach. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Uh-huh.

So Coach Taylor was from a family of bankers and lawyers and Florida legislators and landowners.  I think the phrase is "family money" and another phrase I didn't know at the time was "trust fund baby".  But he wasn't a spoiled waste-of-life type, he went into teaching, coaching, and was on about a half a dozen charitable boards and always organizing some community volunteer project or fund-raising event.  He married another member of the wealthy elite of Florida, and Coach Taylor's wife, Gloria was a notorious Palm Beach beauty.  What I wouldn't have given to watch them have sex, gorgeous bodies everywhere, and penetration and oh, the otherwise forbidden thrill of bareback penetration and insemination.

And I'd been running races against Coach Taylor's daughter Lacy since middle school, and Lacy couldn't catch me, though she was durable, fast, tactical, and as a lucky genetic recipient, she was sexy.  She later ran track at LSU which was a track power in the NCAA, but back then it was the Lacy and Dolly show.  Now the running community all knew each other, it’s the same in most sports, so we ended up with friends on rival teams after getting to know them at other events, invitationals, or even just events like being together in a seeded starting group for a popular 10k somewhere in the state.

And her dad, Coach Taylor, was so cool about praising his daughter even in defeat, "Lacy, honey, you just set a PR by two and a half seconds in awful humidity, I'm thrilled with how you ran, don't focus on Dolly, just be the best Lacy you can be and Lacy, you're amazing."

Talk about a good parent.  God, thinking back to this guy, I should have let him breed me.  Who cared that he was married.  He rocked!

And Lacy and I were separated from the pack by a margin, and so many "top two" photos and invitation slots to events like college meets that would go to the top two finishers, and often as not I'd ride to those non-school races with the Taylors, since her father was going anyway as a coach.  Saved my coach the effort, since he was busy on weekends doing things middle class teachers do, like mow their own lawns, change their own oil.  Fuck their own wives....

Now it seemed that Gloria Taylor and Coach Taylor (He had a Roman number III after his name, and was known as Tripp, but to me he was always "Coach Taylor" because that's how I met him) had an "understanding".  You know, about extramarital sex.

And let me also just throw in here that nothing ever happened when I was under-aged or a minor.  At least not with Coach Taylor.  Or Gloria.  There "may" have been a few instances with Lacy and me at out of town events held at college tracks and some of the more mature runners we met, and then there was that time that she and I both felt our hearts skip a beat over the muscles on that shot putter from Pensacola whose father was a Navy pilot who was damn near as hot as muscle boy the shot putter.  Funny thing, muscle boy's dick was a disappointment.  I was young, wasn't as skilled as the woman I've grown to be, and was more hung up on size, but Colonel Muscle, as I'll refer to his father, that man could work a woman's body.  Talk about conduct unbecoming an officer…


So ahem, getting back to Tripp Taylor, the invitational meet was in Tallahassee, and thanks to my Daddy we were staying at a much better hotel than most of the high schoolers, the one where lawyers and lobbyists stay and have business meetings, where local debutantes have their coming out parties and then return in a couple years for the wedding receptions.  Coach Taylor and Gloria in one room, and then Lacy and I were in another room, which sounds odd since we were competitors but not really because it wasn't at all different if we'd been at the same high school once you get to top level meets--we were both competing against the clock and each other to win, no matter if we went to the same school or not, it was an individual sport once the team title was decided, and that title wasn't on the line that weekend.

Two day meet, and our race was day one, and runners from colleges and high schools, and I didn’t place in the top four, those positions (and a few below that, too) were only the college runners, and Lacy was four seconds behind me.  Neither of us ran our best, but it was a real learning experience, Coach Taylor emphasized, and talked to us both about the jostling in the pack and to get ready for big girl running at the next level.

And then Lacy and her mother went to shop and Coach Taylor and I hung out, drank water and iced tea and ate some fruit and he told me about how he had tracked my career along with Lacy's and somewhere along the line I noticed his eyes on my legs and my ass and mid-section and anything else where I looked good, which as an eighteen year old was most everywhere (though my twin girls weren't as big then, *wink, I hadn't met my marvelous doctor yet).  I'd showered and was in just a thin skirt and a tank, cotton, lightweight, sandals that most of the time were off my feet anyway as my race was done, and my hair was simply straight down by back.  And I started looking at Coach Taylor in a way I hadn't before.

"Gloria and Lacy can shop for hours, I might've suggested you go with them, Dolly, instead of you being stuck here with me, checking out runners and serving as an official on a review panel if there are protests.  Sorry you're stuck here being bored..."

'I'm sorry, Coach, what?"  My mind had wandered, I was on my back in the fantasy, in Gloria's bed, having dabbed some of her erotic perfume behind my ears, behind my knees, near my young tight sweet pussy,  between my young, alluring tits, and Coach Taylor was inside me, my legs wrapped around his, pumping in the rhythm his arms had developed, his body penetrating, then trying to retreat, then advancing again, into me, making me a woman, his mouth on my neck, his hands on my wrists above my head on those thousand count sheets I always have in my fantasies.  The part about in Gloria's bed was the hottest part.  No, it was his unsheathed cock, imagining him breeding Lacy's sister in me, his seed taking over my DNA and making an amazing, awesome love child, all with the enemy coach as he mumbled, "Oh God, Dolly, I love your body, so young and fresh...."

His hand touched my wrist, not in the fantasy, but back where we actually were, in the bleachers by the track, in the sun, back at the meet after I showered, and after Lacy and Gloria vanished to the mall.  "Dolly, let's get you into the shade, you ran hard and chased college women today, maybe an ice pack might help."

I didn't feel faint.  Which didn't stop me from allowing him to firmly help me up to my feet, to under a shade tent where we split the last Gatorade from his cooler.  I don't drink sports drinks anymore, BTW, but this was when Dolly was eighteen.

"Stay here," and he went away, then was back in five minutes and shifted the car into gear.

"I got a substitute for the appeals panel, I'll get you back to your hotel room.  So good of you to stay with us, I've got other runners in tomorrow's events otherwise we could have all gone home today."

Sometimes my inner voice isn't inner, and this might have been the first of those times when I said, "I'm never going to complain about a night in a hotel, Coach Taylor"

His eyebrows went up.  His eyes narrowed.

It’s not like I was a virgin.  It’s not like I hadn't had sex with men as old as Coach Taylor.  It’s just that those were flings, hookups and bucket list sport fucks back before I knew the phrases bucket list, sport fuck or hookups.  I thought it was sex or fucking or love-making.  Don't you giggle now, thinking about the lusty woman I am, thinking that it was love-making?

"Does your family travel much, Dolly, is that what you mean?"  He was still processing my hotel comment.

The toothpaste was out of the tube, shy Dolly was gone.  So much for the toothpaste, I wanted the splooge from the hard cock.

"Well we do Coach, but hotels are for other kinds of fun, too, for men and women, you know."

I thought I saw a pulse lump move in his crotch.  I felt my own wetness start to blossom from within.

"Well Dolly, you and Lacy are eighteen now, you'll be at college soon, so your parents, and Gloria and I, will have to just trust you young ladies to do the right things."

Straight arrow to the last.  And I was determined for this to be the last so we could get past that straight arrow stuff.  I swore he started to shake and cough.  Was he nervous, or was this how he reacted to a young woman seducing him.

"Coach," I said to him, loving realizing how much this scene was starting to reek of Nabokov, "Lacy and her mom are going to be gone a real long time, Gloria said there are some great boutiques here, state capital and all, and that she wanted to look for some things for her as well as for Lacy, what with graduation and prom coming up.  They're not going to be back for hours. 

I took his hand in mine. "Wouldn't you rather talk in private?"

His coughing stopped, and the shaking, well, I confess I love that I can make a strong confident man a quivering tower of Jello.

"Sure Dolly, sure."  He didn't sound sure. He looked at our hands, then realized where we were and slid his back, away from mine.  It was his left hand, the one with the wedding ring. Our eyes met, I licked my lips, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he squinted as he said, "Hours, huh?"

I smiled. He nodded.

We swapped glances and blushed on the shuttle bus back to the hotel, and then we walked and bantered back and forth, with the critical revelations including:

"No, you're not my first,"

"No, never as young as least not since I was as young as you."

"Actually Coach, older than you, a couple guys my father does business with"

"Lacy can never know"

"I'm experienced back there, too, if you like that Coach"

"Probably since the district meet when you were sixteen, Dolly, yes, ever since then"

Oh God we were so worked up when we got back to our hotel.  We each went to our own rooms.  Then I heard the knock at the connecting door.

And my mouth was on his, his hands on my waist, my hips, his tongue in my mouth.  I pressed my body close to his, and reached down to undo his shorts, they were polyester coach looking shorts, with a fly and a snap and a belt, and they dropped and he was stepping out as I started to try to lift his shirt off him with one hand while the other found something engorged with blood.

His hands seemed content to grope me over my cotton clothes which had gotten a wee bit sweaty on the walk.  I moved my mouth to his neck, and ran my tongue on his flesh, which was salty with sweat and heat and I felt thumbs scoop into the hips on my bikini panties. He had just enough hair on his chest to make it seem dirty and sexy and older man-ish.  Which of course it was.

We were both naked when I tried to drag him to the double bed I'd slept in last night, which was just about two feet or so from the double bed where Coach's daughter slept the night before.

"Not on the bed, don't wreck the covers."

Silly me, still so young, I had these romantic visions of sex in beds.  Love-making, remember, I called it love-making.  Try "lust", pure lust. Luckily, I knew about lust, too, and my eyes spotted the sofa in the sitting area.

"I want you to take me on the couch, then, Coach, make me your Dolly," I said breathlessly, trying to sound like a porn slut or some romance novel femme fatale. Oh hell, I knew I could fuck but this was so hot and suddenly I had a trace of doubt in my mind about the reality of this, I'd been running track against his daughter since before my first blowjob (ahem, no comment on the age of that fun activity, other than to assure you wise-guys that yes, my age was double-digits and ended with the word "teen".  And the boy was eighteen and a high school senior, if you must know.  Oh hell, so many memories flooding my mind and pussy, let me just finish about Coach!

Coach was erect and had hair on his body like a man, and a pretty flat midsection.  I wanted him to want me.

I was leaning back on the couch, slumping down, running my fingers up and down the insides of my thighs, my legs up and spread, and there was just a hint of stubble because I hadn't shaved that morning before my race so I wasn't perfectly smooth. You expert pussy eaters among you know the difference.  "Do you want me, Coach, like I want you, like you told me you've thought about me since I was sixteen, you bad boy.  Wanna be bad with me, do you Coach?"

He licked his lips, he was beaming with the gleam I've come to know over the years now, a man about to have sex with Dolly for the first time. "Oh I want you big time, Dolly, I'll bet you are sweet and hot and wet and tight and young and fresh but we both know you're going to take my cock now like a good girl, and you want me to make you my bad girl..."


I couldn't take my eyes off him as he knelt and brought his lips to my wet, waiting sex target.  Oh God, what a divine treat that felt like --okay, still feels like every time.  There, I said it, why do you think hooking up with a hot woman is so amazing?  Because she knows what feels good to a woman!  And lips, soft, skilled lips, a slow tongue, an appreciation of the delicate yet explosive nature of the female anatomy ... hang on, I started rubbing downstairs as I was trying to type this.  And here was Coach Taylor, this married enemy coach, had watched me run and do so faster than his daughter, had watched me grow up, savoring me like a woman.  With a sexy wife and he wanted to be with me, to give me pleasure.  And then his tongue strayed down to my back door, oh dear God in heaven I don't think a tongue had rimmed my tight secret back hole before Coach gave me cunnilingus 101 in the hotel room he was sharing with his wife. My fingers were in his hair, cradling his head but not smashing my pussy into his face.  His hands on my thighs, then finger joining his lips in stroking my overly sensitive body...


"Mmmm, God, oh yes, mmmm, aaah, oh! oh! yes, don't stop, don't ever stop... oh fuh-huck , fuck, on God, yesssss......mmmmm ....ahhh, ahh, I'm, I'm , oh shit, oh God, ...fuck, oh God Coach, fuck me, uuughhh, oooh yes, there yes yes yes......I'm I'm ,,,,aaaaarrrghh!"


Or something like that.  I came.  I squirted.  As an eighteen year old, I squirted! I hadn't even realized I'd let go of his head and that when I came I had my left hand on my boob, pulling my nipple and my fingers of my right hand were twiddling my clit.


Coach Taylor took that right hand in his and kissed it, sucked my fingers, then leaned in to kiss me, whispering, "here, kiss me Dolly, taste what a sexy bad girl taste like when her friend's father makes her cum...."


Oh did I suck his lips and wish for as much of my flavor from his face as I could get.  I felt his cock hit my hip as he was now hovering above me, his weight supported with his arms.  I ran my hands up those arms, the arms of the man who'd just made me cum so hard. I bit my lip.  I kept going back and forth between wanton slut and eighteen year old. "I want to feel you inside me." I told him.


"I thought you'd never ask, Dolly."


Oh thank God he went to his suitcase and opened up and reached inside and produced a condom.  Not like I had any.  I was on the pill, so I thought I was protected.  Thank God he knew better, not that anyone was in danger of catching anything but nobody knows that when you start having sex for the first time.


He teased me with the latex shrouded head of his dick, rubbing my clit, then centering himself, and I reached down with my right hand to guide Coach Taylor's cock into my pussy. And suddenly I wasn't such a young teen, as I reached around his shoulder, legs draped over and around him, pulling him into me.  Slowly, inch at a time, then a pause, even a couple pull backs though not all the way.  Mmmmmmm, when he was fully inside me, pubic bone to pubic bone.


I looked into his brown eyes with my blue eyes. "Fuck me good, fuck me like a bad girl, good and hard."


Loved the contrast of the words "good" and "bad".  My nails dug into him, my bare heels hooked around the backs of his thighs.  And then he started pumping his pelvis. His face went to my neck, he kissed me, and I was sensitive there so now I was tingling in my neck, my nipples, and a combination of tingle and flames of desire in between my legs...and the thrill throughout my head because I felt like I was stealing him away.


He moaned, "so good, mmmm, Dolly, good...."


My own face, buried in his neck, nipping at him, kissing, licking, tasting his sweat, his salt, his body....


And then he changes angles, put one knee up on the couch, and I straightened one leg and now I was so slick, he was hammering me, breathing hard, and , and, and


I think I yelled something like "Oh God yes, YES, mmmm, yeah fuck me hard, hard just like that Coach."


I do recall specifically calling him "Coach" again during that second orgasm.


And that might have been the straw that broke Coach's back because that's when he grunted and stiffened and his head moved and he kissed me, hard, like a non-consensual occupation of my mouth and I was all his as he squeezed me and filled his condom deep inside me. God help me I wished he could have made me pregnant, that was what I thought as I felt the pulse.  The second thought was "How soon can he be up again because I want to do this some more."


I'll spare you the banter, the "I don't care that this was wrong, this felt so good, I've fantasized about this for so long," comments that went back and forth, and the kissing and intimate touching and nuzzling. SOOOO glad we didn't fuck in the bed, no way we could have fixed that.  You can guess that I told him I wanted him to take me again, to make me suck him like the slutty girl I was, to get his wonderful cock hard so he could fuck me again.  Which is what I did.  He had one more condom, and I rode him cowgirl with him sitting on the couch after I swapped places with him so that he was seated and I knelt between his knees and showed off my skills beyond my years.  Or whichever phrase he used to compliment my fellating ability.  "Whoever the lucky boy you've been sucking, he's taught you well, you've got the mouth of a pro, I love it."


And that thrilled me and I smiled big time.


'You like that I told you that you suck cock like a pro, Dolly?"


"Sure, Coach, I mean, wouldn't a hooker suck the best, since that's her job?"  Oh, the irony of me saying that, of me using the "H" word, huh?  Who knew.


Between my fingers, his fingers, and his cock with me on top riding, I came first this second time we fucked.  This is where I learned to place towels, by the way.  He had to intentionally spill a Coca Cola on the couch to cover up my body's sexy stain, but that was later, after we dressed.  When he was clearly approaching his second climax, I invited him to "cum on my tits, Coach, that would be so fucking hot, use me like a bad girl slut."


He did.  You might recall at the beginning of the story I mentioned washing the cum off myself.  Uh-huh.


Gloria and Lacy did a lot of shopping. So we didn't get caught.  Maybe sometime I can tell you more about those two.  They turned out to be fun, too.  Uh-huh.


Now the rooms were connecting, so I didn't have to take a walk of shame.  But I was floating on clouds of bliss.  And then I saw that Coach must've gone into the desk and gotten some stationary and let me his sweet note wrapped around the $100 bills and slid that into my backpack.


Which began my thrill with being paid for sex.  Grown men willing to part with their money for the pleasure of being with me, because I gave them pleasure.  Even as a spoiled girl (Guilty!) I knew the value of $500 that Coach gave me.  The next day when I had the chance, and no one could have heard, I told him it was such a sweet note, that he didn't have to, that I should return it.  He smiled and told me that he was relieved, he was afraid after the fact I'd be insulted.  I told him I took it as a compliment and it was so hot that he did that.  I asked him if he ever paid anyone else for sex, and he hesitated, and I said, "Um, Coach, you're not going to try to keep a secret from me now, are you?"


"Dolly, if it makes any difference to you, my marriage is complicated, and I hope I didn't mislead you into thinking you were the first woman I'd been with other than Gloria. But I meant what I wrote on that note to you."  And he smiled.  And I was smiling because he'd said "woman" other than Gloria.  I was the "other woman!"


"Coach, we're cool.  We're so cool, like you can't believe," I said to him, wishing I could rip his clothes off and suck his cock right there.  "I just....well I've seen your house and figure you've got it to give, I didn't want to take anything away from your family, and, well ... it’s so cool that you gave me what you did, Coach, I was so psyched!"


"You know Dolly, I was going to ask you to call me 'Richard', at least when Gloria and Lacy aren't around, but it's getting to be a real turn on to hear you call me 'Coach', you know, when we're not in public, too."


I winked.  There were more adventures with Coach, and sometime later I found out exactly what Coach meant when he said his marriage was complicated.  And it was sooooo hot and sexy when I finally got to have sex with Coach in his marital bed.  I just hadn't dreamed that Gloria would be sharing his with me, and that woman was amazing as a lover to a college girl, which was where I was in life by the time I got the chance to go to bed with both of them.


As for Lacy, she and I shared a few winks and handshakes at some collegiate track meets, but her career in competitive track did not go beyond college, though still to this day we are friends and see each other at some big public road races, 10K's, half-marathons, that sort of thing.  But on Easter weekend they do a 10K in New Orleans called the Crescent City Classic, a nice flat course, more humid than I'd prefer of course, but such a fun town.  And one time I registered late and couldn't find a room in a suitable hotel and wasn't going to stay in some flea bag drug deal nightmare on the West Bank, which is what they call the other side of those twin span bridges you see downtown.  I mentioned that to my dear old friend Lacy when she called to ask where I was staying, and that sweet girl offered to share her room at the W Hotel.  She explained that her husband and children weren't making the trip, they'd be at her Mother In Law for the weekend, but having gone to LSU she ran that race in New Orleans every year.


Oh my, such pleasurable surprises with my old competitor years later as a married MILF.  And as we were laying entangled in each other's arms and legs, perspiring, catching our breath, enjoying the after-quakes of our orgasms, Lacy said, "so now you've had the whole family, Dolly, took you long enough...."


And wouldn't you know, she left me a $100 bill inside a card that she slipped into my duffel as we checked out.  When I found it, it read, "Don't know how long it might have been since you've had the thrill of a little financial thank you for pleasure and fantasy come true, but my Daddy and Mom had an interesting marriage and when I hit a wild streak in college they leveled with me, and part of what they leveled with me about was YOU!  I love you like a sister, a faster distance running sister I could never catch, you SLUT, and now I know why both Mom and Dad were beaming with Cheshire Cat grins when they filled me in about their adventures with you.  And just so you don't think I'm insulting you with a $100 bill, I'll let you in on a secret, and don't think badly about me, but a couple times in college I made some extra spring break money getting paid for sex!  Can you imagine?"


Oh, I can imagine.


So I got to wondering how Coach looked these days, and made an excuse for a visit. I was hoping for a two-fer, but Gloria told me she'd "retired" from sex with women though when we hugged I turned what she seemed to intend to be a soft peck into a passionate kiss.  Gloria might be in her early sixties, I suppose, but she looks great.


"Give my Richard a thrill, Dolly, I'm happy just to hear you through the walls, maybe watch a little, and then he and I can tease each other about it in bed together later."


I asked if she was sure, and she said, "Oh I've thought this over carefully, ever since Lacy told me about New Orleans."

Wow, seriously fun family!


At long last, just me and Coach in his marital bed.  I was riding him, slowly, he'd had a hip replacement and let me know he enjoyed sex as always but had made a few concessions to age.  Luckily, one of those concessions was Viagra, and he did bring me a good hard stick to play with. He also told me, while he was inside me, that he wanted to give me another gift, and I told him that it wasn't necessary, and then Coach said, "Dolly, I thought you and I agreed no secrets from each other.  I've seen the website.  You remember that you weren't the only woman I've paid, well that's still true, and the internet has really revolutionized the ability to make sexy new friends like you. C'mon, let me enjoy the thrill of being with the internet Dolly, to go along with the sexy amateur Dolly back in the day."


I left with a smile, Gloria's still-sexy pussy on my lips, Coach's mature spunk in my stomach after I swallowed while Gloria licked the underside of his scrotum, and some thrilling Benjamins in with my personal things.


Oh, look, the stock market just closed, another new all-time high.  Thrills to be found in so many places.  *Smile.


Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!

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