Hilda “Eh,You’re Hungry!?: Introspection
Posted by: adonis49 on: March 8, 2009
Introspection: Hilda (Addendum #7)
You’re Hungry, Eh!? (Nov. 2002)
Every single book in her apartment was wrapped in a plastic bag. She was allergic to dust. Hell, she was allergic to almost everything. She kept a huge, black Labrador inside. Maybe the plastic bags were to keep her dear dog from getting unduly dusty. The place smelt of dog in every pore of it: Another overpowering odor that can hugely depress me. The dog was her best friend, maybe her unique real friend. Hilda was dead confident that she could see her dog smile and feel him/her when depressed; yes, Hilda had a thorough knowledge of the dog psychological moods.
Like many women there, dogs are at the center of their lives. Crucial decisions were based on the dog feedback. A husband, boyfriend or whoever, was to agree with the dog emotions or vacate immediately.
What is it with indoor dogs? I know a friend of mine who married an American girl. She was a political activist, and lived with her lifetime dog. Many years later and now married to a Lebanese girl and living in Lebanon, my friend still keeps a dog indoor. I do suspect the dog is a living prompter of a past when he was younger, happier, very much in love, with big expectations and ready to improve the world dialectically, and ultimately, taming these blood-sucking, capitalist imperialists.
Hilda was with a girl friend of hers at a dark dancing club. Hilda had black thinning hair, cropped very short, in spikes. Heavy, thick and non colored prescription glasses were hiding her eyes. She looked desperate for a lay and her eyes followed me persistently. Her girl friend was nudging her and encouraging her to make a move. Hilda finally managed to invite me to dance with her. I reluctantly agreed.
Hilda drove me in her car to her place at the outskirt of town. In the much better lighted room, I noticed villain large blue blotches on both her arms. I needed to run away on the spot, but for my acquired politeness, I decided to stay a little longer.
For the first time I saw her feet. They were neat, large and strong. I liked these feet. A woman with feet like that signal to me security and protection for her male. So, we shared a hot bath. I sponged and massaged leisurely her feet more than needed.
Hilda turned out not to be so desperate tonight.
She asked plenty and well targeted questions. She wanted to come to a safe decision, for a safe sex. Meanwhile, I reached the part of my life story where I admitted being born in Africa and that I lived there, lately, for a year. I could hear the click in her mind: Oh! No, no and no! What about AIDS and the million other diseases, stupid!
Damnation! I thought that I won’t be seeing these feet again.
We cuddled up in bed, stark naked, Including her thick eyeglasses and mine.
God! She had really beautiful large green eyes, and her face was just lovely, lying on a bed and without glasses. Hilda displayed round and hard bosoms, a slim waist and an exquisite stomach, lean and mean for her age. She had a perfect body in bed, but for these large blue blotches on her arms.
Damned feet! They got me over excited and cut short on my foreplay. She liked to kiss very much, kissed me all over my gorgeous body. I mounted her in haste and tried to penetrate her clumsily and in vain. She wouldn’t let me in, no way.
I ejected prematurely between her soft thighs. Hilda was in the meantime in ecstasy;
She was frankly moaning which increased my bewilderment and dejection.
Hilda had decided that no intercourse is to be consummated with this African touring man. I turned over on my back and blurted out: “Oh boy, am I hungry!” She lost her control and screamed: “Hungry, eh!? You want to eat right now, eh!? Right away, eh!? What’s wrong with you men? You feel hungry right away? What about resting a while longer?”
This early ejection reminds me of another story with Helga over seven years earlier.
She was a middle-aged German, working at a luxury restaurant. In her dim room with a leopard spread cover on her bed, I was frantically trying to enter her, and vigorously making love to her. After I ejected, she sadly but forcefully said:
“God damn it Adonis, didn’t you know that you were still out?”
I decided, then and there, to ask my future bed companions to insert me themselves. It turned out to be a great rewarding decision in life.
Let us go back to our original story with Hilda and not Helga the German middle-aged woman. We had breakfast sooner than expected. Hilda made up for losing her temper a minute ago. Back to bed, she gave me a brain liquefying blow job. The process was thorough, complete from A to Z. She acted as if she was enjoying a delicious ice cream cone: A lick from the top, then several on the sides.
She kept at me after I was long done, and I experienced a forced lasting erection. I patronized her place a couple of times more for her expert specialty when I come to think of liquid or liquefaction or ice cream.
If you are interested in a girl from down South, please, do not mention visiting Africa.
Adonis Diaries 
Leave a Reply