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31 March 2010
Doing a Hildabeest doggie-style
The Hildabeest has now passed into legend since St. Hilda's her natural terrain, has started admitting men. However back in the day standing on Magdalen Bridge and watching the perfumed herd pass by on its way to the grazing grounds and watering holes of Oxford - or expensive restaurants and equally costly bars if you prefer - was a sight to gladden the heart of the most jaded male. After the Oxford Cowgirl the Hildabeest was the commonest prey in Oxford, because like the cowgirl she was relatively easy to catch. Once either or both had been suitably lubricated with cocktails, then the rest of the evening was relatively easy to predict. God knows why St. Hilda's was jocularly referred to as The Virgin Megastore because the idea that any member of the college hadn't wrapped her legs around any number of lusty males was, well, virgin on the ridiculous.

So it came to pass that your memoirist and a certain Hildabeest did make their way down to Christ Church Meadow late one night when whichever bar we had met up in had closed. This is England in the 1980s, people, and hostelries closed at 10.30pm except Friday and Saturday when they stayed open an extra 30 minutes. It was March, if memory serves correctly, and the lady wore a long black overcoat over her undergraduate uniform of wool skirt and blue crew necked sweater.

We stopped to lean against a wooden fence and I found to my delight that madam was only too pleased to put her arms around my neck and gently nibble my right ear as a good Hildabeest should. She did not object as I put my arms around her rump and lifted her skirt to reveal to my delight that she wasn't wearing blue or black woollen tights as I had believed but long socks that reached up to her thighs. Almost as nice as stockings and a damn sight warmer in the chill of an Oxford March. I placed the back of my hand over the magical zone that was still covered by her panties and was delighted to find that her heat pulsated onto my hand. That night was going to be easy-peasy I realised.

I turned her around and pulled her overcoat off her shoulders. Taking it in one hand I put it over the fence and then gently pushed madam onto it. Before she had time to collect her thoughts I pulled her skirt up around her waist and firmly peeled her panties down to her ankles.

Have you ever had a woman that way? There is something incredibly erotic about having her bent over, fully clothed, but with her skirt up and panties down to her ankles. She looks ready to receive whatever her partner chooses to give her. I licked my right middle finger and began to stroke her pussy with it, all the while undoing my trousers with my other hand. Once they were down and my cock was free I mounted her from the rear and began to get a good, steady rhythm going.

She did not shriek or scream, but contenting herself with low heavy moans that seemed to come from deep within her. She reached behind her like a good girl should and took hold of my balls in one of her hands. Cupping them she stroked them with her fingers as I built up the velocity to the killing speed.

Quite a night with quite a lady. I walked her home afterwards - she lived in a house the other side of Folly Bridge - and as I strolled back across the bridge I walked down the steps to the riverbank. I then took out my dick and had a nice long piss in the river.

And reflected that life really didn't get much sweeter.

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