The Adventures of Hilda

May 18, 2010

Dear Diary,

Today was such an exciting day. It even had drama, and I learned a lot about traditions in a faraway land. It all began when I wore my 'lucky dress.' It's my powder blue mini dress with cap sleeves and a low scoop-neck design. Anyway, I always take a shortcut through Patriot Park on my way to work at Staples. There's a park bench just inside the park which usually has an older gentleman sitting there in the morning.

For some strange reason, Diary, whenever I wear that mini dress, I always find a one or even five dollar bill that someone dropped on the walkway near that bench. Isn't that the oddest thing!

So of course I bend over and pick it up. It brings a smile to my face to be so lucky. And when I look back at the older gentleman, he's always smiling too. I guess he's happy that I found some money like that!

Well today I had some bad luck as well. I'd pocketed a five dollar bill and walked out to Camden Avenue. Just as I got there, a city bus came by, went through a big puddle of water, and splashed it up on me! The front of my pretty mini dress was soaked through! The fabric was so thin that you could plainly see the outline of my bra, garter belt, panties, everything!

Omigosh, I thought, I can't go to work like this! People were already staring at my wet dress and my undies. So I turned and hurried back into the park on my way home to change.

The older gentleman was still sitting at his bench. When he saw me, he stood up, saying, "Oh my dear girl, what happened!"

I told him about the bus, and that I had to get home. He asked, "How far is your apartment?"

"It's about ten blocks," I replied.

"That's too far to walk, with you soaking wet. Why, you'll catch your death of cold. Please, my apartment is just across the street. We can go there and you can change out of those wet clothes. I have a little fireplace where we can hang them to dry."

"Oh, I couldn't impose like that," I said.

"Dear girl, it would be no bother at all!"

Diary, from the warm gleam in his eye, I could tell he meant it. "I am Senor Felipe Gomez, from the Spanish province of Andalusia," he went on, "at your service."

He did seem nice, very sophisticated and well-dressed. His dark hair was gray at the sides, and he had the cutest pencil-thin moustache. His eyes were deep brown and his skin olive brown, like you see in people from the Mediterranean. I thought, what a gentleman he is, to be so willing to help a girl in distress. I couldn't turn down his kind offer.

I told him my name as we hurried out of the park, across the street, and into his second floor apartment. It was well appointed, with a cozy living room decorated with art and furniture in the Spanish style.

Senor Gomez turned on his gas-burning fireplace, saying, "You may change in my bedroom, Hilda. I'll bring you a robe to put on after you've gotten out of those wet clothes."

Well Diary, I just wasn't having any luck today. I went into the bedroom, closed the door, and began to undress. But that darn zipper on the back of my dress got stuck part way down. I tried and tried, but it wouldn't budge.

Finally I called out, "Uh, Senor Gomez?"

"Yes my dear?" he replied at once.

"Gosh, my zipper is stuck. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you please help me get my dress off?" Well, that man was so sweet! Just like that, he came into the bedroom to help out.

He struggled with the zipper too. He had to put one hand on my butt before it finally yielded and slid all the way down. Senor Gomez kindly pushed the dress off my shoulders and had me step out of it when it fell to the floor. He even unhooked my bra, the pale blue one that is sheer in the front.

I guess helping a girl undress was an exertion for a gentleman his age, because he was kinda breathing hard now. When I felt a tug on my panties, I said, "Uh, Senor Gomez, I think I can take off my panties by myself."

"As you wish, dear girl," I heard him reply. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and I could feel his lips on my neck.

"Senor Gomez!" I cried out in surprise, "what are you doing!" I began to blush, thinking, omigosh, here I am in a strange man's bedroom wearing nothing but my undies! All because of that darn bus!

"I am kissing you, Hilda, and pleased to do so," he replied. "You see, to kiss a pretty girl on the neck is part of an ancient and revered tradition in Andalusia, my homeland."

"It is? What sort of tradition is that?"

"Oh," he replied, "you wouldn't be interested in our quaint customs."

"But I would!" I said. "I haven't traveled much, although I once spent four days in Connecticut. But I'm always curious about how folks in other countries live."

"I wouldn't want to bore you, my dear," Senor Gomez said as he went on kissing my neck.

"Oh you wouldn't, I'm sure," I said. "Please, please tell me, Senor Gomez!"

"As you wish," he murmured. "To begin with, Hilda, this too is part of our old tradition." Then, Diary, he pushed my bra off me and it fell to the floor. I covered my breasts with my hands as any modest young lady would. But then he moved his arms around from behind me, pushed my hands away, and began to caress my breasts!

I was shocked! But he was so suave and gentle that at first I didn't have the heart to say anything. Besides, he'd been awful kind to offer his apartment to dry my clothes.

Then I spoke up, saying, "Well really now, Senor Gomez! Surely it's not a tradition to fondle a girl's bosom too, while you kiss her on the neck!"

"Oh but it is!" he replied. "In fact, our young ladies in Spain consider it a compliment to their beauty. Everyone agrees that it is a fine custom."

I thought, well, maybe it's okay if Senor Gomez is used to doing this with those girls in Spain. I didn't want him to think that American girls are unfriendly or anything. I said, "That's a very odd tradition, Senor Gomez. I'd sure like to hear about it."

That man's voice was so smooth and deep it was almost hypnotic, Diary. So I just closed my eyes and let him kiss my neck and caress my breasts. In between kisses, he began to speak.

"You see, Hilda, I'm staying here in Boston for medical treatment. My bad heart, you know. But at home, I own a vast estate, vineyards and olive groves. In Andalusia, gentlemen my age and position are greatly respected for their wisdom and kindness."

"That's nice," I said.

"Our tradition, my dear, is that when a distinguished gentleman like me offers his time and assistance to a young lady like you, why, it is the greatest honor she can receive. She is forever grateful."

"Really?" I said. "A great honor?"

"Oh indeed, Hilda. Es verdad, it is true. A wonderful honor. From that point on, the young lady and the older man become joined by the bond of his kind and loving heart. She calls him her Don. She is now his young lady, his sancha. That fortunate girl knows that in him, she has found a wise and trustworthy friend. Being sensual and passionate by nature, a young Andalusian lady will shower her Don with affection. In fact, she will want to be as intimate with him as if her were her novio, her boyfriend."

"Well, I've never heard of a custom like that," I said. By now, Diary, Senor Gomez was softly squeezing my breasts, and also holding my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I began to think, now wait a minute! Would a young Andalusian lady really let a gentleman be this fresh, even if he had been kind to her?

So I asked him that very question. "Of course she would, dear girl," he replied. "In fact, if you were an Andalusian girl, Hilda, why, your heart would swell with pride that a distinguished man like me has invited you into his home. You would welcome such friendly affection as I am showing you now."

"Senor Gomez, I really do appreciate your kindness," I said. "But I'm not really passionate like those Andalusian girls. I'm actually rather shy and modest."

He turned me around, so I quickly covered my breasts with my hands. Then he looked deep into my eyes. "On the contrary, dear Hilda," he murmured in that hypnotic voice of his, "I see within your eyes a wild, fiery spirit, just like an Andalusian girl."

"You do?" I said. I was impressed, Diary, that Senor Gomez could sense something in me that no one else could.

"Yes indeed. What a pity we are not in my beautiful Andalusia. My dear girl, you would be a most charming sancha." A look of sadness crossed his face. I felt sorry for the sweet man. He was so far from home and his native customs.

I said, "Well, gosh Senor Gomez, if we were following your tradition there, and I were you sancha, what would happen now?"

"Oh, but we are here in Boston. So it cannot be," he said, more wistful than ever.

"C'mon, Senor Gomez, tell me," I insisted. By now I was so curious!

Now smiling a bit, he said, "Well, you would call me Don Felipe. And as your Don, you would place all your trust in my wisdom and judgment. You would of course, without hesitation or embarrassment, obey my wishes."

Diary, if he had been an ordinary guy, things would have been different. But Senor Gomez was an aristocrat, a sophisticated man of the world. He seemed the sort of man any girl could trust. So I told him, "Well, I could do that. I could call you Don Felipe."

Holding me by my shoulder, he kissed my forehead and chuckled. "As you wish, my girl. But do you truly have faith in your Don Felipe?"

"I think so," I said.

"Let us see then. You still have on those wet underclothes. An Andalusian girl would not be at all shy to disrobe in front of her Don. As an expression of her trust in him, you see."

It's funny, Diary, but when he put it that way, I thought, well, I suppose I should. I began to blush of course. But I decided that if Andalusian girls could undress in front of their Dons, then so could I. I took a deep breath and let my hands fall from my breasts. Then I pulled down my blue bikini panties and stepped out of them. His face beamed as he admired my shaved pussy.

My white lace garter belt was damp too. So, as Don Felipe watched, I undid the straps to my hose, unhooked the belt, and handed it to him. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my flesh-colored hose.

That gentleman watched me keenly, a warm friendly look on his face. When I was finally naked, he collected all my wet clothes and said, "Now, my dear, we'll dry these before the fire. But first, let's dry you."

Don Felipe went to the bathroom and returned with a towel. He sat on the bed and had me stand in front of him as he dried my legs. Then he worked his way up to my breasts, which really weren't wet. He had me turn around and rubbed my butt, although it wasn't wet either.

Oh gosh was I blushing! But somehow I sensed that I was in the presence of a true gentleman. So I stood there, without a stitch of clothes on, as he dried me with that soft towel.

Afterwards, Don Felipe handed me a knee-length terrycloth robe. "This should fit nicely," he said.

I put it on and we went into the living room. He hung my clothes on a rack before the fire. Don Felipe then said, "Now, my girl, you must be chilled. It's early in the day, but nothing warms the blood so much as good brandy. Will you kindly join me in a glass?"

"Why, yes, thank you," I replied. He was being such a dear! Diary, when I got up to go to work this morning, I never dreamed I'd soon be drinking brandy in an older gentleman's apartment, wearing nothing but a terrycloth robe. You never know what the day will bring!

Don Felipe poured us both a glass of brandy, gave me one, then sat down on his sofa. After a sip or two of brandy, I began to feel so relaxed. Then I said, "You've been awful nice to me, Don Felipe. What else do Andalusian girls do to show their gratitude?"

He smiled and said, "Well, at home, I am the Don for Carmen, a most passionate girl, and Isabel, who is shy and modest like you. As part of our tradition, they both love to sit in their Don's lap when we are alone. But since you and I have just met, Hilda, perhaps you wouldn't ...."

Already, Diary, it was fun to pretend to be a Spanish sancha. So I said, "Oh no, Don Felipe! If that is the tradition, then I must do it too!" Before he could say no, I settled onto his lap, my arm across his shoulder, and his arm around my waist. Don Felipe's cologne was strong and manly. I'd noticed it when he was kissing my neck and fondling my breasts.

He said, "Let us drink to old Andalusia." We drained our brandy. Diary, I began to feel so warm and comfy in that sweet man's lap. I couldn't imagine a safer place to be!

After he had finished his drink, Don Felipe sat his glass down. His eyes twinkling, he casually began to undo the belt to my robe. He then pushed it back from my breasts. "Now Don Felipe," I said, "you're being fresh again, aren't you!"

He smiled that urbane smile of his as he gently placed one hand on my right breast. "Hilda my dear," he said, "I cannot resist. A woman's soft breast is surely one of nature's finest creations." You see, Diary, why I admired Don Felipe? He had such a cultured way of saying things.

He smiled so warmly, and I thought, well, I am his sancha now. He began to softly caress my breasts, first one, then the other. I closed my eyes. It was so relaxing! He then squeezed both my breasts and then my hard nipples between his thumb and finger, as he had done in the bedroom. But his touch was light, as a true gentleman's would be.

Diary, I never knew my real father. But as I sat there, I began to feel as if Don Felipe was kinda like a father to me - someone who would look after me and be caring and affectionate. Oh, I know, grown women don't sit half naked in their father's laps and let them fondle their breasts! But it was as if in some odd way there was a bond between me and this nice man. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to please him.

I opened my eyes when I felt Don Felipe take my right nipple into his mouth. I thought, gosh, he wasn't kidding when he said that Andalusian girls become intimate with their Dons! He suckled, sometimes biting down with his teeth, but gently as I had come to expect from him.

Wanting to be polite, I turned my torso and held the robe back so that he could suckle my left nipple too. He smiled at me as he withdrew from one nipple to take the other. I could tell that so far, he was happy with his American sancha! And he loved my big breasts, Diary! Don Felipe even caressed one as he suckled the other.

Already I was so comfortable with my Don that I could sense his wishes. When he let go of my nipple and glanced at me, I decided he needed a 'sweet Hilda' kiss. To show him that I could kiss as well as Andalusian girls!

I kissed Don Felipe several times on the cheek, then full on the mouth. Of course he tasted like brandy, but it was nice. I kissed him some more, this time slipping my tongue into his mouth. He gave me French kisses in return. I thought, now he will surely say, here is a girl who offers the affection a Don deserves!

As we kissed some more, Don Felipe moved his hand down from my breasts and began to caress me, moving lower and lower. I thought, oh well, even an aristocrat like Don Felipe sooner or later takes an interest in what is below a girl's abdomen!

I decided that a Don would also expect to enjoy that part of his little sancha. So I politely spread my thighs. We continued to kiss as I took his hand and slid it down onto my swollen pink pussy lips.

Diary, he really liked it! He gently pressed down and moved his fingers around over my pussy. Then one of Don Felipe's fingers found my cleavage down there, and began to glide back and forth, pressing slightly into me. He knew just where my clitoris was, and when he began to caress it, oh my, it felt so good! Were my juices flowing! I began to kiss my Don more passionately than ever.

I paused in my kisses, saying, "Am I showing gratitude for your kindness, just like the young ladies in Andalusia would, Don Felipe?"

"Indeed you are, darling girl" he replied. He continued to skillfully massage my pussy as only an older, experienced man can.

"Gosh, Don Felipe," I said, "I never knew it could be so much fun to learn about the customs in another country! Is there more to your tradition?"

He gazed at me and said, "Now that you mention it, there is."

"Oh please, tell me then."

Don Felipe smiled. "When I at home in Andalusia, my Carmen, who has the hot blood of Moors in her veins, loves nothing more than to kneel before her Don, unzip his pants, and take out the treasure she finds there." He paused, then went on, "But of course, Hilda, no Don would expect such intimacy with a young lady he's just met. Ours is an old and hallowed tradition. One must follow the rules of etiquette, you see."

Well Diary, I'm one of those girls who, when she's told she shouldn't do something, I want to do it all the more! So I said, "Don Felipe, its fun to play the sancha to a sweet gentleman like you. Let me give you the same pleasure Carmen would."

Don Felipe smiled cordially, caressing my hair with one hand and massaging my pussy with the other. He said, "I suppose we could make an exception. Are you sure you want to favor your Don that way?"

"Of course," I replied. I quickly stood up, took off the robe, and then knelt before him. He was wearing an expensive pair of pleated gray dress pants, with a black leather belt. I undid the belt and unzipped his pants, smiling at him and blushing as I did so. There was a huge bulge in his striped boxer shorts!

Diary, I shouldn't admit this, but I did it partly because I was curious to see the size and color of his cock! Aren't I shameless! But we girls do sometimes wonder just what's in a guy's pants. Don Felipe, being a Spaniard, was so different from other men I know.

I reached into his shorts and pulled out his cock. And boy was it dark, the color of milk chocolate, darker even than the rest of Don Felipe! Then I slide my hand down and grasped his testicles and pulled them out too. They were really big, the color of dark chocolate.

Don Felipe's brownish purple cock head swelled out from his shaft, which was as thick as Tim's but maybe not quite as long. It wasn't as smooth as a young man's cock, but I still liked it. In fact, Diary, I was already wondering how it would feel in my mouth!

I try to compliment people whenever I can. So I smiled and said, "You have a nice cock, Don Felipe."

"Thank you, Hilda," he replied. I could tell he was waiting, so I bent forward and began to plant kisses on his shaft, which was really warm like men's cocks are when they are hard. I licked from the base of his cock all the way onto the head, then decided to be playful.

I drew back, looked up at him, and said, "You know, Don Felipe, I've changed my mind. Maybe next time."

He only smiled and caressed my hair, saying, "Now, now, my little sancha is teasing me, isn't she?" He knew that a girl could never deny her Don that pleasure. And he was right!

I giggled, saying, "Of course I am!" I bent down, took the cock head into my mouth, and swirled my tongue around it. Then I opened wide and slowly went down, letting my Don's cock fill my mouth.

I withdrew and then took the cock several more times. I glanced up at Don Felipe. His eyes were closed. He was caressing my hair with one hand and my shoulder with the other. His hand moved down to cup my left breast, then returned to squeeze my shoulder. That man sure loves the feel of a young lady's breast in his hand!

Diary, I was so pleased. Even here in Boston, I thought, a Spanish gentleman can still enjoy a fine old custom from his homeland. After I had sucked his cock for a while, I stopped and held the cock in one hand and his testicles in the other. I kissed and fondled his testicles. Then I took each one into my mouth and held it for a few seconds. For some reason they weren't drawn up tight, but still hung loose. Maybe it's that way in older gentlemen.