Do Not Take Anti-Depressants

One wonders if the name Hilde, ending in -e not in -a is a common girl's name in these parts (Western Europe) in my generation (X). I've definitely met and interacted with more women of that name than of any other name I can think of. Maybe I gravitate towards them or they gravitate towards me.

Not in my early years though. The first occurence was when I started my bachelor. Hilde S had Spanish roots. Bit of a Fabiola (the late Belgian queen) type in fact. Not being with the popular crowd she hung out with the nerds, making sure she got the point across to us virgins that she did fuck around with a guy that she had picked up in the youth movement. Good on her. We left her behind academically before the year was even done.

I forgot the last name of the second Hilde during my IT bachelor years. She came from West Flanders and had a student room in Antwerp. One evening I was invited there, the only male in a party of what must have been most females of my class. The reason? To explain how pointers in C worked until the ladies all got it. Only much much later did I find out that at least a couple of them, the hostess included, were non-academically interested in me. I do hope that Hilde got the needed eye-correction later in life.

Fast forward a couple of years and I'm working in the IT department of a retailer. One that didn't use "of the shelf" solutions. I had three Hildes in my immediate area. Hilde N, Hilde VP and Hilde B. Never quite got a handle on the first. Somewhat older than me, linked up with a somewhat younger guy that also worked at the retailer for a while. Nice curves and not afraid to show them of. None of my suggestions worked on her.

They definitely did work on Hilde B. Or did they? She was eight years older and married. We went from colleagues to confidants. Well. I became her confidant, I don't think it ever quite went the other way. For several years we practically went out to lunch together every working day. Went to movies. Played video games in my boarding house (single) room. However, I never as much as touched her. She had installed no-petting rules. Adoring her was encouraged and even demanded but that's apparantly where the line was drawn.

She was one of those "grey mouses". Petite. What is called a child-woman, but with almost perfect proportions. Not an exceptional fair face, but not ugly either. One day in summer she's wearing one of those cover-all simple dresses that only women of that type can get away with. The reason being that you constantly wonder if they are wearing anything underneath and with any other type of woman that's easy to establish. It's white. It has the fabric polo shirts have, coarse with a woven look. Simple, covering her from her shoulders to just below the knee. No sleeves.

The two of us are Oracle database administrators and we are that day invited in the office of two developers. Of about my age, late twenties say. They are building one of the first online webshops. Hilde was the lead DBA on that but I was going to take over so I went along. Once the greetings are done, us males sit down and Hilde starts explaining the database model. It's somewhat intricate so she turns and starts writing and drawing on the whiteboard. Now the board is not that high up but she is small and thus has to reach to make full use of it.

Behind her silence falls. Silence as long as she writes on the board and talks. As soon as she turns though, one of us raises a question, a doubt. Mostly about the things on the upper half of the board. She never catches on, in fact, adoration-junkie that she is, she's pleased with the undivided attention of three young males and the whole thing takes a lot longer than it should have. A lot. Including a full wipe of the board so we could cover "additional things".

You probably caught on already. Every time she reached the no-sleeve gap shifted. And it was more than wide enough to clear up the "what does a woman wear under such a dress" question. At least as far as the top and this woman went the answer was "not a stitch". Whilst I've seen much bigger tits - even on Hildes as we'll come to in a bit - than this Hilde had, there's something to be said for these petite women. Mid thirties, two kids in and those titties (and the rest of her body too) would still be competitive in a line up with a bunch of 18-year old girls. As attested by the silence of three young males. I never pushed the issue with Hilde B. and she floated away as I became less useful for her career. But I've held and squeezed a similar pair of breasts on a woman of similar build and they were exquisite (more on her in another episode). I regret that I didn't at least try.

And as a sort of final insult, one day I meet Hilde B.'s husband. In a kind of strange situation, but that's not the point. I take one look and I've often wondered about it since. A small, ugly fellow. Only length wise they matched, otherwise I just couldn't see how they fitted together. Maybe he was/is fantastic in bed. You never know. That meeting was a massive blow to my ego though.

In a sense, Hilde VP was the younger version of Hilde B. Same build, slightly - but only a little - more flesh on the bones. A slight eye problem (interesting, second Hilde with an eye problem), but nothing you'd really notice. She had a very innocent and naive air over her. Very childish. Hard to understand for a woman that has a degree in civil engineering - about the most difficult study you can do, but that's how she came across. At work she'd often behave as if there was absolutely nobody around her.

One day I am having a meeting with my team leader and two other members of the Linux infrastructure team. We are sitting around a table in the team leader's office. This is one of those fishbowl offices. Closed on three sides but the fourth side is a door and otherwise a full length window. Everybody passing in the corridor can see us and we can see them. It's a boring meeting but we are techies and some things need sorted. Suddenly somebody hopskips by the window, hopskipping for the full length of it. Then about 10 seconds later the same thing but in the opposite direction. Conversation stops as we - for a few seconds - took in the following scene...

Hilde VP, dressed in gym slippers, woolen multi coloured long stockings all the way up to the knee, girl scout mini skirt, clearly a couple of sizes too small but she still got into it somehow, white silk blouse, four buttons open. No bra. Her hair in two pig tail braids, bouncing up and down as she skipped. And several other things were bouncing too in plain view. Her thighs are 100% in view every time she is at the apex of a skip. We can see her underwear and whilst we can't see beyond it we are all aware that none of our wifes/girlfriends would ever be able to fit in something that small and delicate.

The meeting ends. Right then and there. Without a word we all get up in unison and just leave, each with - no doubt - his own fantasy playing out. I had a great wank in the toilets straight after. And let me be very clear. No, that was not a license for a sexual assault, rape or any of that. She didn't sollicit anything, not with us and not with anybody else at work. However, if you identify as a heterosexual male, then or today, and would not have reacted to that as we did, please rethink your identity.

I did try to link up with her. Wrote a couple of letters, tried to start up a conversation. Never got a reaction on the letters, the conversations went nowhere. As far as I can tell, nobody else but her husband ever got a piece of her. But o my, was she both smoking hot and "fresh" that day (and on many other days).

The Hildes at work clearly didn't fall into my orbit. I found the Hilde I did get to investigate up-close-and-personal via Adult Friendfinder. At the time my relationship was starting to mentally destroy me. I was taking anti-depressants. Still, I didn't want to give up my only recently started sexual activity, so I explored the options a non-social person has. These days Adult Friendfinder and it's equivalents are dumps. Not that I fare much better with the modern apps. Back then you'd at least have the occasional real person on them, but looking at the hitrate I got over almost a decade, it's abyssimal. No more than eight hits leading to a first meeting, only three ever going beyond that.

Never found out her last name. Her picture was that of a curvy woman with a sweet bespectacled face sitting on a park bench, slightly angled sideways, booted legs crossed under a wide long skirt that covered most of the boots. She was married, I had this LAT thing going and my pick up line was "I wonder what I'll find under that skirt". Definitely not Shakespeare but it got me the first meeting. In the town of Leuven. It goes surprisingly well. She is wearing exactly what she was wearing in the picture. We are both able to relax and find a couple of common interests to talk about. I tend to keep such first meetings short. Often little more than a meet and greet. No point in wasting time with somebody that you clearly don't like - or vice versa. Never making out on the first date. She agrees and after a while walks me back to my car. We're still talking and it's quite frisk outside outside so I invite her to come sit with me in the car for a moment. She does. Time passes as we talk. Only when we hear a church bell strike midnight do we realize how much time has passed. Both of us need to get home.

I give her a peck on the cheek to say goodbye. We're both smiling. We've set a date for a next meeting, we're going to see a movie in Leuven soon. As she opens the door she comments that the car is all steamed up. And I'll never know where my next line comes from but I say... "you know, as it is past midnight now, this is technically already our second date".

That one is Shakespeare. And if it isn't, it should be. "So it is" she says. She gets out, closes the door, then walks to the back door, opens that and sits down on the back seat. "Let's have our second meeting here then" she continues. I mirror her actions. Barely have I closed my side and we're French kissing. A minimum of clothing is removed and we fuck. Right then, right there. Bare, no condom ever entered this relationship. We keep the noise down as even at that time there are people passing on what is a public parking lot. It's not really tender, we don't explore each other, this is just about quick release. And we both get that. Afterwards, beaming at each other, she asks if I have any tissues in the car as my cum is dripping out of her onto the seat. I have to clumsily reach into the front to get some. Her laughter is the laughter of the sheer incredulity of the situation.

After she leaves it takes 15 minutes of the heating at full blast to get the windows in a state where I can start driving. I don't mind, that was without a doubt the best first (+ second) date I've ever had.

Nowadays you find "family" seats in movie theaters. Back in the day - maybe this is still the case - if you sat down on the last row in a movie theater you were sitting on the "necking" seats. The regular crowd would keep clear of those and couples would find a little privacy there. Regardless of what the movie actually was.

That's where our second - technically third - date takes us. I've picked her up at a supermarket parking lot near her home. We both guard our privacy, whilst we are besotted with each other neither of us has the intention of giving up our regular life. She directed me to the movie theather in the center of Leuven, my car parked deep underneath on the lowest level of the parking lot.

I'm nervous. Not about her. The anti-depressants had however started their journey of destroying my inner balance which was shaky to begin with at the time. Also, a movie theater is a crowded place and I've never been a crowd person.

And so we end up in the "necking" seats. My memory is excellent, but I can't recall at all what movie we watched that day. Hardly watched at all in fact as the lady besides me had no intention of doing anything but making out. We're not two minutes into the commercials, with the house lights still on, as she pulls my hand under her blouse. She was wearing a bra when I had picked her up, but it had magically disappeared. This woman has the biggest breasts that I've ever held in my life. They weren't firm, but soft and nice and she enjoyed me squeezing them hard. Which I did.

I gave in to the moment and when the lights did finally go out, my hand felt down all the way to her boots and up from there under the skirt and between her legs. Wasn't even surprised to learn she wasn't wearing anything there either. It would remain thus for the rest of our date.

-- Intermezzo

Boys and men, the female orgasm is an amazing thing. And I personally always make sure that my sex partners have plenty of them. There is however one thing you need to find out about your partner. Single or multi. Both exist, with variations but it is often the case that a single orgasm woman will not be able or willing to continue the bout once that orgasm has hit. Too sensitive, sometimes even a feeling of self-loathing (men can feel that too after an orgasm btw), several factors play. So make sure you know which, so you don't end up with the short stick.

--

I fingerfuck her. She spreads as wide as she can in the seat to allow me entry and if I do say so myself, I absolutey know how to use my fingers on a woman. I also put my mouth on hers in a quasi permanent kiss to stiffle her moans. My hand is soaked when she after a few minutes trembles in an orgasm that only subsides slowly.

My idea to watch a bit of the movie then - maybe I could still figure out what it is about - is quickly aborted as it is now her hand that sneeks under my t-shirt. Definitely a multi. I really enjoy getting my nipples rubbed, squeezed, sucked, bitten. Gets me rock hard every time even now as I'm reaching (have reached) old man age. She notices that and her hand moves down, deftly undoes the button of my pants and slides the zipper down. I'm expecting her to move her hand in, but instead she leans in with her face.

This is a bit too crazy for me. My nervousness takes over again and I gently pull her up and back into her seat. She laughs, again that nice sound-of-tinkling-bells laugh. This draws the attention of a couple of the other people in the theater, it's clearly not a comedy we are watching. Hilde whispers in my ear that she wants to suck me right then and there. Instead I hold her of with more squeezing of her tits, twisting of her nipples and kissing.

After the film, as we walk hand-in-hand towards the car on the almost deserted lowest floor of the underground parking lot (the only place where we could safely walk hand-in-hand), she asks me if I don't want to be sucked. I tell her I love it but that the anti-depressants - I had told her about those - made me quite insensitive "down there" that I didn't think she'd be able to satisfy me that way. Again that laugh, followed by "I love a challenge". She directs me to park the car in the farthest corner of the parking where we're all but invisible. And we end up in the back again.

She wastes no time. Gentlemen-readers, I'm sure many of you can boast of many many more sexual encounters, but I've been very lucky on actual deep throat sucking. Unless your girlfriend at the time was Heather Brooke, I got you beat on that one. Hilde, or her knees next to me in the back seat of the car, swallows my cock whole. It does take longer than I would usually last and she also has another orgasm in the process as I also fingerfuck her again while she sucks, but there's no resisting the suction and the sensation of the tip of my cock in her throat. After 10 minutes I push down her head even further and shoot my load straight down her throat.

I keep her head down - she's still on her knees next to me - as I relax and realize that she does have a fantastic behind. I mean, I had noticed, obviously it was her curves that had drawn my attention in the first place, but sticking out like that they are really something. To her suprise - she can not see the reason obviously - I grow hard in her mouth again. I pull her head up, shift her upper torso and myself and drape her over the back seat. She supports herself with her hands on the bottom of the trunk. I again hear her laugh, quite husky now, as I raise her skirt and push her against the back seat so I can position myself behind her. Push her up even further so her slit, trimmed but not shaved, is neatly aligned with the tip of my cock. Slap her bottom and as she reacts to that with a shake, enter her.

The car rocked as I took her hard. She's not very comfortable in that position, but still moans and screams and demands I slap her again and again. I oblige of course. Again my "insensitivity" plays a role and she's completely on a different planet when I finally come myself.

And so it went for a while. We'd meet, do something together, find a rendezvous-hotel or such and have great sex. She loved me and I loved her. It never even crossed my mind that she'd be fucking around and I'd be running a risk taking her without any protection. She didn't, she was loyal to me and I was loyal to her. She also never took of her boots. Not a fetish or such but it was the one part of her body she absolutely loathed and so next to never finding out her last name, I never got to see her feet. Strange if you think about all the parts I did get to see and touch and fill.

It ended when in a mood swing I broke up with all my friends and relationships. She actually begged. Said she'd wait for me to recover. I didn't listen, acted cruel and eventually she started her search again. It wasn't the last time I would do something stupid like that and I've regretted it every time, but there is no turning back the clock. If there is a second lesson here - this time for everybody - do not start with anti-depressants. Not ever. Whilst they may temporarily help somewhat, they'll eventually destroy more than they ever gained you.