Dolly in a Sorority

It was a sort of random occurrence that I met Dolly at all.  I was a college sophomore, moving into my first off-campus apartment, and I showed up early to take some summer classes and get ahead by a couple of credits.  There was a big trunk in the furnished apartment that I was told belonged to the girl who’d moved out.  It wasn’t in the way, so I just left it next to the door for the summer, and used it to put my keys, mail, and backpack on when I got home from campus.  I didn’t give it another thought until a few days before fall classes started, when there was a knock on the door—and a knock-out on the other side of the door.  She was a fitness goddess—toned muscles on a feminine seductress chassis. You know that fantasy you get about the one model who usually makes it into each year’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the one who looks like she’s a terrific athlete as well as your sexual dream?  For me, it was Kim Alexis, who sure enough ran marathons.  Now picture that same level of babe, a bit more fit like the hottest chick at the health club, and imagine her like I saw Dolly at my door:  blonde, shoulder length straight hair, blue eyes, about 5’7”, tanned toned legs with khaki hiking shorts, a loose fitting sleeveless cotton top opened a few buttons to give me a hint of what I later learned was a 34D bust above a 24 inch waist and slender hips. She flashed a big smile and introduced herself as Dolly, who’d lived in the apartment last year and had come to collect her trunk.  I must have looked like a young dork as I stared at her and smiled.  It took me a second to snap back to reality, introduce myself, and say, sure, it was right here, safe and secure, and could I help her get it into her car. 

 

As we carried it to the back of a Jeep Cherokee, I asked how she’d liked living in the apartment, which was actually the lower level of a three-story restored Victorian house.   She said she’d loved it, not too bad a walk to her sorority, hated to give the apartment up, but she was sorority president this year, so she had to live in the sorority house for her senior year.  Alpha Chi Omega.  A senior.  I looked very out of my league with her, not just because she was so hot that the paint was practically bubbling on the Cherokee, but based on her senior class status as well.  It was a hot day, so, after we got the trunk into her car, I asked if she’d like a cold drink. I had Diet Cokes and beer.  She smiled and thanked me, saying “I’m the one who owes you a beer sometime.”  And then she asked me if I was 21.  I smiled and said 20.  (In those days, some states had younger drinking ages, and I’d actually brought the beer back legally from home the previous weekend.  Otherwise, I was dependent on friends for beer during the school year.)  She made a faux expression of amazement as she said, “Well, I’ll get you that beer sometime when your stash runs out, but, oh my God, don’t tell anyone I’m corrupting a minor!”  Thanks, a minor?  Like I said, out of my league.  Before she left, she asked, “You didn’t open it, did you?  If you did, I’d have to kill you!”  Her eyes gleamed.  Why was she flirting with me?  Okay, I was 6’ tall and, in those days, thin and in shape, though never muscular.  I’d been a tennis player.  I guess I had good leg muscles from that.  And a nice tan since summer was just ending.  Okay, that was about as good looking as I ever got during college, but still ….  “Nope, not my chest to open.  You don’t have to kill me!” 

 

My league looked a bit brighter by the middle of the first week of classes, when a fancy invitation arrived from Dolly, inviting me to a Saturday afternoon reception at the Alpha Chi Omega house.  My excitement was tempered when a friend informed me, “Sure, she probably sent out 30, hoping to get 10 guys to show up, so there’ll be guys around to meet the girls in the house.”  The friend knew who Dolly was, though they weren’t acquainted, and said “You don’t stand a chance with her, but there are some cute girls in the house.  You should go.”  Not wanting to look like “a minor,” I put on my best button-down pinpoint Oxford dress shirt, actually bought a repp tie at the local department store (since all I had was a bad skinny tie with a pizza stain on it), and a favorite sport coat with suede patches on the elbows.  Thought it looked scholarly when I bought it.  I made my way to the Alpha Chi house and ran into Dolly, who looked fantastic in a long skirt, tight fitting blouse that was sexy not trashy, and smiled big when she saw me.  “I’m so glad you could make it. I owe you that drink, and the bar is open!”  As she turned to greet the next guy (a senior--he got a hug, I hadn’t), I made my way across the room to where one of the girls in the house was serving drinks.  “Panhellenic Council rules for sororities serving alcohol require me to card you.  May I see your ID,” said the redhead with blue eyes and a perky manner behind the bar.  This was going to be worse than embarrassing.  I started to stammer my explanation, “Um, I’m still,” when she leaned over and half-whispered, “Just show me your ID so all the world who might be watching sees me check it; I don’t care if you’re a little under-age.  So are most of the girls here, Sweetie.”  And to my relief, I soon had a long-necked bottle of Budweiser in my hand.

 

Dolly made her way through the crowd, mingling and performing presidential greeting duties.  When she got to me, she took my empty hand in hers and said, “You need to meet someone!” with a little squeeze.  She was intoxicating, and her eye contact with me was making me glad I’d worn pleated trousers, because otherwise the whole campus would have seen my hard-on. “Say, where are you from, anyway?” she inquired, and, when I said “Connecticut,” she lit up and said, “I know whom you should meet!” and led me by the hand to a girl with chin-length wavy hair, green eyes, and a couple of cute freckles, in a jumper and turtleneck combination.  “Stacy is from Connecticut, too.”  I smiled and said I was from “Near Fairfield,” and she said she was from West Hartford.  I felt like I’d been brought to the corner of the Omega house in Animal House where Calvin, Jagdish, and Muhammed got stashed with the “undesirables” during Rush.  Great, we’ll have lots to talk about.  As Dolly slipped away, I turned to face my fix-up, Stacy from West Hartford.  Pretty, but not Dolly.  Still wishing I had a chance with Dolly, I figured I should be a good sport and entertain Stacy—at least then I’d have done her a favor, it seemed.  So I used every small talk skill I’d ever learned with Stacy.

 

That task lasted until a shout from Dolly at about 9:30 announced, “Clean up! First Years!” at which point Stacy hugged me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and laughed, “Sophomores have to clean, at least until we get new pledges next semester. I hope I’ll see you again?” she asked wistfully, and I said, “Of course, I promise.  I had a great time meeting you, Stacy. This was great, you were great.”  I was stuck on the word “great” until she laughed and said “That sounds GREAT!” She headed upstairs, forbidden territory to male visitors, to put on some jeans for cleanup duty.

 

The sorority house was mostly empty of guys, just really stray boyfriends but not the 10:1 ratio or anything close to what I’d seen earlier, as I made my way through the great room toward the door.  The girls had mostly changed and were starting to put away the remaining liquor and gather up cups, bottles, and napkins, when Dolly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in a tight fitting pair of jeans that made her ass look terrific and a concert t-shirt. “Hey, I’m glad I saw you. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to chat much.  Did you have a good time?”  She was still full of energy!  “Yeah, thanks again for inviting me.  It was really nice .…” Before I finished, she took my hand and led me first to the bar, where she grabbed a 12-pack of beers from behind the counter, and then out the front door.  I was somewhat bewildered, and, as we made our way to what proved to be her car, a BMW convertible (again, way out of my league), she said “I should stock that fridge with some beers for you.  It’s the least I can do for your summer storage services.”  Who was I to say no?  My buzz from the drinks I had with Stacy early on (to drown my sorrows that I’d been lured there by Dolly while I figured she was fucking some upperclassman) had almost fully worn off.  I wondered if it was obvious I had hoped I could have fucked her.  I’d never ridden in a fancy convertible, just a couple of fancy sedans when getting rides at home with kids whose parents drove better cars than my parents—which, admittedly, was much of the town. 

 

I was about to thank Dolly for introducing me to Stacy when Dolly put her hand on my thigh and said, “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”  Now, the answer might have been, “Actually Dolly, I was hoping to get changed and find Stacy again.  We hit it off really well, and I’m hoping to fuck her, since she’s the one you made available to me.”  That would have been fatal to whatever chance I still had to be with this personification of sexual desire.  My cock, however, had been doing the thinking for me for a few hours by that time, and here I was with a really attractive, fit, tan, affluent, “older” woman, who clearly knew what she wanted.  For some bizarre reason at the moment, she seemed to want me.  We arrived at my apartment, which was her old apartment, and I joked, “Here we are at ‘our’ apartment,” as Dolly laughed and said she still had one key.  She’d kept it in case she needed it to get the trunk.  She opened the door with her key to my place.

 

Dolly spoke when we got inside her former apartment, now mine, “I always loved that this was part of an old house.  This great fireplace, you’re going to love this in the winter.  My boyfriend and I would fall asleep in front of this last winter,” she volunteered, as she put the beer in the fridge, then pulled two bottles back out for us.  I tossed off my sport coat and tie, which were still intact from my time with Stacy.  When I noticed Dolly had made herself at home and was barefoot with a fire engine red pedicure to balance off her French manicure, I just flipped on the radio to the college music station, which ran jazz on Saturday nights, and sat onto the couch next to her. She slid up next to me, putting her hand on my thigh.  Then, we set our beers down simultaneously, and she moved forward slightly in front of me to start kissing.  Her tongue was in my mouth, and my hands were on her ass as she turned around to straddle and face me and then push me back. She moved my hands to her breasts, on the outside of her shirt, and started dry humping me as we kissed.  She was the most erotic kisser I’ve ever locked lips with, to this day.  She was 22-years-old, and I suspected she’d had an entirely different, rich, privileged-girl sex life than the small town hook ups I’d experienced. 

 

I broke off the kiss to move up and down her neck with my lips and nuzzle her ear. She was totally grinding into me.  Feeling a little bolder, as I realized all this girl was doing was dry humping me like when I was in high school or even once in middle school, and so I asked, ‘You mentioned a boyfriend; what happened to him?”  “He graduated; he’s in medical school down in New York City now,” she moaned, still enthralled in the clothed rubbing and humping. “I don’t know what it is, I’ve never dated a younger guy.”  Dating?  Were we dating?  “But you’re so nice and cute, and I love that you never looked in my trunk all summer.”  I had to ask, “So what was in the trunk, anyway, that you’d have had to kill me if I’d looked inside?”

 

Dolly stopped humping me and leaned back to face me.  “All my dirty perv stuff that I’d be humiliated to have my sorority sisters see.  That’s why I couldn’t risk storing it in the house over the summer.  One of my sisters might have innocently looked to borrow something harmless, like a t-shirt or a curling iron or flip flops, and found my vibrator, dildo, lube, porn, and slutty lingerie!”  Hey now!  Dolly’s eyes were on fire as she told me all this.  I don’t think I spontaneously came in my pants, but I went from zero to precum pretty darn fast.  My next words would determine whether I sank or swam:  “You’re sexy enough without that stuff.  We’ll be fine without it tonight, so I guess I can wait until next time we hook up to use all those fun things in bed with you.”  I guess that was showing I had a pair.  Or was confident.  Actually, I had no idea where that came from.  I just opened my mouth and it came out.  It sounded like a guy who knew he was about to fuck the hot smokin’ blonde babe in his apartment.  As it turned out, that sound was correct.  Dolly was out of her jeans faster than I knew possible.  Her thighs were toned and stronger than I’d realized, and her black bikini panties made her look so sexy, like an underwear model.  Her ass was firm as marble as she walked past on her way to her bedroom, uh, my bedroom.  Our bedroom.  I didn’t know anymore.  As the t-shirt lifted over her head and was left on the floor like her jeans, I saw a toned back, and she reached behind that back to undo her black bra.  Black bras were a novelty to me in those days.  The sight of one gave me a boner.  The sight of one dropping off the body of a nearly nude gorgeous senior sorority president making her way to this sophomore’s bed was one I’ll never forget. I remembered that I needed to follow, likewise get nekkid, and join her in the bed.

 

More deep French kissing transitioned into my kissing down to her firm round breasts.  “Suck those nipples.  Ooooh, yes, like that,” she instructed.  I then slid off her panties, making her the first one fully unclothed, since I’d awkwardly left my boxers on when I got into the bed and she hadn’t told me to remove them yet. I made my way down to her womanhood, which, unlike most pussies of that era that were surrounded by a mostly natural bush save for bikini trimming, was shaved.  No landing strip, not that I’d have known what one was.  It was the most amazing pussy I’d ever imagined.  She was tasty, pungent, musky, mature.  This was a woman in my bed. A woman who’d been fucking a guy who was now in med school.  I wondered whom else she had fucked, but I didn’t wonder long, as my tongue got into a good place for her and her fluids thickened and increased, her breathing got more frantic, and she tensed and bucked and flexed those hips and world class athlete-toned thighs.  She barked, “God yes!  Eat that pussy, lick me right there, oh yeah, don’t stop, that’s it, there, yes, yes!” as she grabbed the back of my hair and mushed my face into her wet horny snatch.  I’d gone down on a couple girls back home, but they were girls; this was a woman.  As a fine arts major might have analyzed, the girls I’d gone down on before were still life, the woman I was eating out this night was full motion, real time, live performance.  After she pushed my face away, having to educate me that she was way too sensitive, that she’d cum three or four times, and thought I must be a lesbian in a man’s body the way I knew my way around a pussy, she rolled me onto my back.   As I lifted my hips, she finally removed my boxers, now marked with several precum spots. As she crawled over to be on top of me, we kissed more, deeply, and she licked her own flavor off my lips and the skin surrounding my mouth and from my chin.  “Mmmmm, I love my sweet pussy. I love tasting it off my lover’s mouth after he goes down and eats me.”  I think that was the first time I’d heard of cunnilingus referred to so raunchily by a woman.  Sure was a new sexual experience filled night for me.

 

“Mmmm, you’re big and thick. I can’t wait to feel this in me, but first I want to taste it,” Dolly said.  A slight sense of panic set in as I realized I hadn’t even bought condoms yet. And Dolly was moving in to taste my cock and then wanted to fuck me.  If I didn’t fuck this woman, I’d be labeled a pussy for sure and never have another chance with any other sorority girl on campus.  I started to reach down to her chin, to lift her face away from my cock and just kiss her again, when Dolly’s manicured right hand pushed my chest down to the bed, the long slender fingers of her left hand slowly wrapped themselves around my thick cock, and her mouth formed an “O” as she began to tease the head of my circumcised cock. He tongue slowly moved up and down the shaft.  This felt so good.  I thought to myself I was thankful I’d already jerked off in the shower before going over, hoping at the time to avoid embarrassing hard-ons.  Thank goodness, I now thought, so it would take me longer to cum now with Dolly.  Because this girl was such a good cock sucker, far beyond anyone before or since, I’d have cum inside of 30 seconds if I hadn’t taken care of things earlier.  “Mmmm, you taste good, mmmmm.”  Okay, it seemed I’d dodged a bullet.  Hadn’t cum instantly, but it felt so damn good.  I opened my eyes to peek at my new lover, whose attraction for me I still couldn’t understand and who was sucking my cock better than I had even dreamed possible.  I was in heaven.

 

It was just about then that I first saw it.  I don’t know how I’d missed it before.  Maybe I was so young and used to younger girls that I didn’t yet have the instinct to look.  A diamond engagement ring, a big diamond too, in a yellow gold setting, on the ring finger of her left hand.  Another man’s engagement ring wrapped around my cock as someone’s fiancé was cheating on him with me.  This was not good.  It was probably the future doctor.  A med student’s fiancé was sucking a sophomore dick. I was thinking I needed to stop her, get her out of there, off my cock, avoid trouble, when it dawned on me:  He wasn’t in the same city.  He was hours away.  She’d seduced me.  I didn’t even know if it was his ring.  For all I knew, it was a family ring, her grandmother’s ring.  I hadn’t made any vows or promises to anyone.  Yeah, suck that dick, take me in your hot slutty mouth, suck the cum right out of me, fuck yeah, suck me dry, I thought.  But then another thought entered my mind.  Actually, I had made a promise.  To Stacy.  That I was going to see her again.  Because she was sweet, funny, affectionate, trusting, romantic. Why had I said that to her?  It seemed the polite thing after we’d been introduced.  By the woman who was sucking my dick now.  Sucking me in a way that told me she loved what she was doing and that I needn’t worry about Dr. Fiance too much, since, if it wasn’t me, this woman didn’t seem like she would have let the night slip away without hot sex with someone.  Dolly was steadying my thick erect cock with a finger that was wearing an engagement ring.  My vision became blurred, the entire scene surreal.  I questioned for a split-second if it was really happening.  It was real.  Her other hand cupping my balls and applying pressure just behind my scrotum in a learned way I’d never experienced before my vision snapped to clarity.  This woman was sucking the hell out of my cock, and her body was the most beautiful, sexy, fit, erotic one I’d ever seen in person. I’d tasted her, given her orgasms.  This was very, very real. This was serious.  Stacy?  Who’s Stacy?  “Dolly, don’t stop.  You feel so good.”  Her eyes on mine, mouthful of cock.  She was in her element.  Could have been a succubus for all I knew.  Hey, maybe that’s exactly what she was, only she decided to let me live.

 

I’d like to tell you I took control.  But you’d call bullshit on me, because I was a 20-year-old hormonal college sophomore, on my own, getting my cock deep-throated by a seriously slutty, cock-loving, older woman.  Added to the list a few satisfying minutes later was the first time I ever came in a woman’s mouth.  She showed me my cum, then swallowed, emphasizing the “Mmmmm” sound as she did, then snuggling up to me, our bodies nestled, her long leg draped over mine.  I was in heaven.  My whole body felt the release of pleasure when my load freshly spurted into Dolly’s worldly, beyond-her-years mouth.  In the optimistic afterglow, I allowed myself to wistfully wonder if I’d met the girl I was going to marry.  Seemed silly almost immediately, and amateur porn slut Dolly—at least, as a college kid that’s all I could compare her to—was simply taking care of her deeply felt needs.  Hey, lucky me.  I was the guy she was taking care of those needs with.  I was calculating how I could maneuver the situation to keep being her fuck buddy for as long as possible. 

 

As I interlocked my fingers with hers, and my finger touched her ring, I thought the time was appropriate to ask the woman who was stroking my chest with her other hand “Whose engagement ring is this?”  Deep sigh, her head still against my shoulder.  “I got engaged over the summer.  We fucked all through my sophomore and junior years in this bed. In this apartment. I gave him my anal cherry in front of the fireplace.”  That last piece of information had TMI stamped across it, if I’d known what TMI meant in those days. “We promised we stay true to each other while we were apart,” she continued.  She spoke slowly, not sad, but just, devoid of emotion.  Detached.  “Then he left for med school a few days before I came back up to campus.  One of his fraternity brothers was from my high school.  I ran into him at a bar the night my fiance left.  And fucked him in the back seat of his Mercedes. And again the next night, and then he left for law school in California. And the night before I drove up to school, I got together with my high school boyfriend, who goes to State, and he was so cool about congratulating me on getting engaged, and his parents were so sincerely happy for me, and he told me he hoped one day he’d get engaged to the girl he’s dating now, but he just thought he was too young.  And later that night I fucked him, too, hard, twice, down at the lakefront under the stars.  I’d never fucked him in high school.  I told him I knew he’d always wanted to, that it was alright, we’d known each other since kindergarten.” 

 

So much for Dolly keeping her vows.  She wasn’t that much older than me, I realized, and how many college engagements don’t make it to the altar?  And as great a lover as Dolly was, it would have been a damn shame for her to just save it all for one guy.  Wasn’t like any mortal was going to satisfy her, anyway.  Insatiable.  Dolly spent the night, dozing off shortly after giving me her slutty run down of how the summer ended, and I eventually followed her into sleep, the two of us naked, together, in the bed, though not the sheets, that she’d shared with her fiancé for two years.  I awoke to Dolly stroking my morning wood hard-on, and, when she told me to go with her to brush my teeth, I did.   She then followed suit with my toothbrush, since she hadn’t brought her own.  What the hell, she’d sucked my cock and swallowed my load, and I’d had my tongue so far into her doodah I could have taken her body temperature.  I figured sharing a toothbrush was okay.  Breath freshened, we went back to bed, and she alleviated all my fears by opening the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom.  I’d never opened that drawer.  “Figured some of these might still be in there,” she said.  Yes!  Condoms from last year to the rescue!  Dolly and I had sex, first with Dolly on top, then when she ordered, “Get behind me, fuck me doggy style, fuck me like a dog with your big thick cock, harder, slam it home in me.” This was beyond crazy.  I was hoping I’d get to do it a lot.  I still hadn’t cum, I loved kissing, and Dolly had gorgeous eyes, so I told her to get on her back (hurray for 20-year-old me, I told her to do something sexually!).   I finished by cumming in the condom while inside her after a sweaty missionary position fuck, our hair pasted to our foreheads in sweat and both of us struggling for breath, as the finishing spasms of my orgasm completed and she dug her nails into my shoulders, her heels locked behind my thighs, pulling me in as she thrust forward to match my pumps into her.  She kissed me a few seconds later, without passion, as if out of ritual.  How many mornings had she been fucked in that bed and then gone off to shower and meet her sorority sisters at the Alpha Chi house with just such a peck on the lips?

 

Just until fall break.  The answer to how long I would get to be Dolly’s fuck buddy was, “Just until fall break.”  It was great while it lasted.  All except for the dirty looks I got from every other girl in Alpha Chi after Stacy realized I wasn’t going to be calling her again.  I’d ducked a couple messages from her, made an excuse why I couldn’t come over for date night, and nervously looked at my watch the whole time one day when I agreed to meet her for lunch at the student union.  I tried to say that I just felt guilty for leading her on the night I met her, how great she was, all that.  There was that word again with Stacy, “great,” like the night I was promising to see her again.  Stacy didn’t need to be hit over the head.  She knew I’d sweet talked her, then fucked her sorority sister.  I was a shit heel.  There were then about six dozen young ladies, the sisters of Alpha Chi, on that campus who’d decided I was the scum of the earth.  That I’d been fucking their sorority’s president, facilitating her cheating on her fiancé, encouraging her to stash some of her porn slut toys and outfits into her back pack and stop off at the old apartment each night for sex and then again the next morning before she took a walk of shame home was unknown to the sisters of Alpha Chi.  Or in this case, the BMW convertible ride of shame.  The president’s suite had a separate entrance into the sorority house, and, after the first night she didn’t use her car, so no one had really caught on about her comings and goings.  Or cummings.  For a while, anyway.  I learned a hell of a lot about sex those six weeks.  I learned a hell of a lot about what lies underneath the surface of the wealthy, beautiful people I’d gone to this prestigious university in hopes of getting closer to.  When Dolly came by and didn’t immediately go for my cock, I knew it was over.  She told me that she couldn’t live with being a part of her sorority sister’s hurt anymore, that as far as the other girls knew, the truth became known, that I was a low life who lied to Stacy.  Dolly told me that Stacy had come to her and cried about it, hoping Dolly would have some answers since it had been Dolly who’d invited me to that party and introduced me to Stacy.  Who knew that Dolly, with a more compartmentalized sense of situational morality than any person I’d ever met or have ever met since, had a breaking point and that was it.  So about two days before fall break, Dolly dumped me.  She left her key to my place on the mantle above the fireplace.  The weather hadn’t quite gotten cold enough to make a fire yet, so I never did fuck Dolly in front of the fire.

 

Stacy got over me, though.  Having been hurt, she amazingly didn’t fuck anyone that entire school year, though she did have dates to formals and did a little innocent dating and kissing.  She was a brilliant student who earned an internship the next summer in New York City, where she met an actor a few years out of his own MFA program.  On the night before returning to campus for her junior year, she slept with him for her first time.  Stacy went into television production and screenwriting and visited the actor on weekend trips to New York and the theater and local television production workshops throughout her junior and senior years.  Then she got the idea to go to law school, aced her LSAT, and was admitted to Harvard Law.  I ran into her for the first time since our falling out not long before graduation.  When I asked what she was doing after graduation and she told me she was going to Harvard Law, I slowly smiled.  She asked me, “What, what are you smiling about?”  I just softly admitted, “I was a jerk, I made a bad choice, and I missed out.  And good for you. I wish you all the success and happiness you’ve worked for.  You’re a great girl.”  And we both laughed when I said the word “great.”  She smiled after she laughed and said, “I wish you good luck too.  But buy a dictionary--you need a bigger vocabulary than just ‘great.’”  I laughed and nodded; she’d earned that one.  And then I never saw her again.  I recently read in the alumni magazine that she is a powerful media lawyer in Los Angeles at one of the biggest law firms in that city, and she sits on a half dozen corporate, community, and philanthropic boards.  She is remarried, her first husband—the actor--left her for a man when he finally chose to follow his internal, natural instincts and come out of the closet.  But that part I got from a friend of a friend, who also told me she’d suspected he was gay for years and remained friends with him and his partner afterward, and they were fabulous at co-parenting as divorced parents.  I wonder if she was taking a poke at me when she said for the magazine’s class notes that “She was doing great.”

 

Dolly finished her senior year with a lot more frequent visits to her boyfriend at medical school, where he barely had time to sleep, maybe 20 hours a week.  She still was basically a porn star in the bedroom, so he gave up a few of those 20 hours on the weekends of her visits when she fucked only him.  Right up until spring break, when she fucked three guys from a southern state university who were staying in the same hotel in Cancun as Dolly and three of her sorority sisters.  Two of them she fucked in a threesome, their first such group sex encounter.  Dolly just never answered when these horny southern gents asked, “Darlin’ have you done this threesome stuff before?”  There was no separate entrance to the hotel room like there was to the president’s suite in the sorority house, so there was no hiding from her sorority sisters that she was out fucking strangers in Mexico with her engagement ring on her hand.  Not long after they got back to campus, when Dolly needed a better grade in a senior seminar to ensure making Dean’s List and graduating cum laude, she added her graduate teaching assistant, an Englishman with a very aristocratic accent, to her list of senior-year sex partners.  This liaison, too, was discovered, and, upon further questioning, Dolly fessed up about fucking me right after I had spent the evening chatting with Stacy and that she continued to fuck me all during the period when I was avoiding Stacy.  Dolly begged for forgiveness from her sorority sisters.  More or less, she received acceptance and forgiveness.  Her closest friends, who by this time had become familiar with the contents of the trunk, simply accepted their friend as the well-bred, insatiable sexual being that she was.  Dolly married her fiancé upon his graduation from medical school three years after Dolly and her pledge sisters received their Bachelors degrees.  They got to be bridesmaids at a major Manhattan social event that received substantial coverage in the New York Times wedding section.  They lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and have a place in the Hamptons.  Dolly wasn’t entirely faithful, and her husband, a prominent ear nose and throat specialist, has no idea his handsome younger brother is actually the father of the youngest of the three daughters he and Dolly are raising.  I’d like to think that’s a tribute to me, since I think I must have been her first younger guy.   Dolly and her husband eventually divorced amicably when he decided he just couldn’t keep up with her sexually and was getting frustrated trying to fulfill her needs.  Of course, she’d been fulfilling her needs through several discreet friends for years.  Dolly and her ex recently had sex together for the first time in two years.  It was dirty, talking-porn sex like they hadn’t shared since before their oldest was born.  Dolly loves all her lovers.  I think I missed out on the chance to stay in her lucky inner circle because of the whole Stacy business.  But I’m not bitter.  What’s that song, “I’ve had the time of my life”?  That was my six weeks with Dolly.

 

And I think that’s great.

The End

Fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure...ENJOY!

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