The Adventures of Hilda

His semen was thick and didn't taste all that good, but he'd already come once so I was able to swallow it all. After I had licked him clean, he did the gentlemanly thing and returned the favor.

How I love it when he licks my pussy, dear Diary! I actually had to make him slow down because I didn't want to climax right away. And that darling guy knows just how to caress my sweet spot with his tongue so that I'm quivering all over and on the verge of an orgasm but not tipped over the edge. This went on for quite a while before I just exploded. I wanted to scream and cry out but I really couldn't, you know, with Tim's parents just across the hall.

Well Diary, the moon set in the night sky, and still we made love. I think I came twice more, but I'm not sure. So today I'm sore down there again, and Tim has a big goofy smile on his face. His parents wonder if we got enough sleep last night, ha-ha! I apologized to them. Tim's father was real nice, saying, "Think nothing of it, Hilda, you're still a sweet girl."

But Carol was really aloof toward me today. It didn't help when Jack called me a fine-figured girl. Then Carol said, "Yes, Jack, you ought to know!"

But I'm trying to be extra nice and polite to her. I fixed my potato salad for lunch, and she said it was almost as good as hers. I wonder if I should tell Carol how her precious son turns into a sex maniac whenever I have a little mishap like last night. That he just can't wait to hold me and kiss me, and it's not because I make good potato salad!

September 15, 2008

Dear Diary,

I'm writing this while Tim is watching the Red Sox play ball on TV. I won't have time later on, if you know what I mean. Yes, I had another mishap, just a little bitty one, but it still has the same effect on my man.

As I wrote you last week, we've just celebrated six months of being married. We're fixing up the house we bought, a little bungalow really. His parents helped us finance it and get a loan.

Anyway, we've been painting and putting down carpet. Today Tim was up on the roof replacing some shingles when it happened. It's been warm and sunny, so Tim called me from the kitchen to bring him a cool drink.

I was wearing a T-shirt and my white tiered skirt, the one that's thin and maybe a little too short. I took a big glass of lemonade out to him, and climbed up the tall stepladder he was using, and gave him the drink. But the ground was damp, and that darn stepladder began to teeter.

"Oh Tim!" I said, now really scared. "The ladder's about to fall. Help!"

Fortunately, our neighbor Mr. Sherwood, a kindly man in his sixties, was trimming the hedge in his yard. He rushed over and held the ladder to steady it. I looked down and saw that he was standing almost under me. And a big grin was on his face as he looked up at me.

Well, my face began to turn red, because I was sure he could see up my dress. So I said, "Mr. Sherwood, you're not looking at my panties, are you?"

"No Ma'm," he replied, as his smile got even wider. "I'm not seeing any panties a'tall."

And that's when I remembered something, dear Diary. I cried out, "Ooh! I forgot to put on any panties this morning!" Can you believe it! That man could see what's between my legs! I scuttled down the ladder and ran into the house. Straight to my panty drawer, of course!

The funny thing is, I could hear Tim and Mr. Sherwood laughing about it. When Tim came into the house, he wasn't really upset at all. And he had that usual gleam in his eye.

Life sure is strange, dear Diary. I honestly don't understand why I always seem to have these little mishaps. Or why it arouses me so. It's humiliating to know that Mr. Sherwood saw my pussy. But then somehow it excites me when I think how a man looked straight at it.

And why do you suppose Tim doesn't get angry with me? I thought men wanted their wives to be modest. And I try to be. But I always have the worst luck! Like when we were downtown last month. The very day I decided to wear my new pink, lace-trimmed thong panties, well, of course it was windy, and a big gust of wind blew my sundress up to my waist. People around not only saw my panties, but my butt cheeks too!

And I couldn't do anything because my arms were full of packages. So I just stood there feeling foolish, that darn dress flying all over the place, my bottom on display! I said, "Tim, take the packages! Please!" He grinned and took them, and only then could I hold down my dress.

Oh well, I suppose my bad luck was good luck for those college guys who saw it all and whistled at me. But even then Tim didn't seem to mind how I'd shown myself. He was the same a few days ago, when he and his best friend Danny were watching the Red Sox. I took a shower and, thinking the game was over and that Danny had left, walked into the kitchen with just a towel around my waist.

I came into the living room, reading a recipe from The Joy of Cooking. I was holding the book at my waist, and when I looked up, of course there was Danny, getting an eyeful of me topless, showing off my naked boobs! But did Tim get upset? No, he mostly seemed proud that his wife has, to use his words, nice big ones. I'm glad I'm married to such an open-minded guy.

Maybe my little misadventures aren't so bad after all. They still excite me. And of course Tim gets so turned on he can't wait to have me. So I probably won't write much tomorrow, dear Diary. I'll be worn out from tonight, you see. You know what I'm talking about, ha-ha!