Hilda R34 Novels & Stories

Hilda, a voluptuous 34-year-old woman, had always been drawn to the darker, more taboo aspects of sexuality. She had spent years exploring her desires, pushing boundaries and indulging in the forbidden. Her two closest friends, Beatrice and Clarissa, were kindred spirits – both equally curvaceous and adventurous.

Cerelia Hilda barely touches the tree when an opening appears at the base of the trunk. She reaches inside and pulls out a piece of gossamer-thin silver fabric which seems to be woven from the threads of moonlight and starlit mist. We’re all gathered around her as she unfolds the fabric and reveals a ring resting inside. It’s carved from almost translucent white bone and etched with swirling patterns that seem to shift when looked at directly. Hilda looks up at King Arlo before slipping the ring on to her finger. I doubt the others see it, but the air around her distorts briefly, as if a thin veil of reality is being peeled back. It’s the most powerful object I’ve ever been around.

Hilda beckoned on everyone as we exited the quarter. "Nice whip!" Tiana said as she caressed the cream-colored car that must have cost thousands of dollars. "I know right!" Hilda grinned, revealing her white translucent pair of teeth. "Wow! Hilda, did you buy a Lamborghini Urus? She is gorgeous." I took a step back slowly to admire the car. The details of the car screamed of pure grandeur. The tyre was well crafted with layers of sharp-pointed blade and it reminded me of aunt May's infamous tangerine cake. It looked more like a sports car combined with the abilities of an SUV. I watched as she pressed a button and the door spread open like the wings of an eagle.

Instead, Sahara became even stronger. She burst out of the crowd and pounced on Hilda, who was away from the crowd. Hilda was so frightened at the sight of the lunatic Sahara that she turned around and got into her car. Her car was a sports car custom built for her by Jordan Automobile Manufacturing, made by a military enterprise, the car was bulletproof. After Hilda got into the car, Sahara went around it and clawed at it like a wild beast, but she couldn't leave a trace on it no matter how sharp her fingernails were.

I reply, forcing a smile to hide my skepticism. Hilda beams, brushing invisible crumbs from her emerald-green skirt. “Me too! I wish I had a skinnier body like yours to flaunt, but I’m all puffy, like over-risen bread. I don’t expect to catch his eye, but even a glance would be a blessing.” “You look stunning to me!” I reply genuinely. Sure, Hilda’s a little rounder, but her curves are elegant and,frankly, she looks better than Princess Heather in every way that matters. Who decides only skinny girls turns heads, anyway?

Gabriel held Hilda’s shoulders and told her to do everything she could to survive. Hilda took that to heart. She took a deep breath and raised her fist, saying she could do this. She would survive. When Hilda stepped out of the building, a black car was waiting for her. A handsome man got out and opened the door for her. Gabriel said Aoi would drive her to the venue. For some reason, Hilda felt a bit disappointed because she thought Art would take her and she could show him how beautiful she looked that evening. Hilda immediately scolded herself, feeling foolish for wanting Art to see her in a beautiful dress.

One moment he was checking on Hilda, the next his throat was opened wide. Cole and I both turned toward the settling dust. Through it, I could make out the outline of someone sitting up. I growled in frustration, ready to finish this, but Cole held me back. "Wait." For some reason, I listened. Hilda stood slowly, each movement unnaturally graceful. She walked forward, emerging from the dust cloud. Her red hair was completely covered in white concrete dust, her face coated so thickly with powder that she looked like a ghost or statue. Only her eyes remained vibrant against the chalk-white mask of her face.

I opened the door thinking it was Alex and to my surprise, it was a blonde-haired lady with two hefty men. "Hello, is Alex in?" she asked. "And who are you? " I asked, and she smiled, looking offended. "The cabin belongs to the Yellow moon pack, right?" She asked. "Who are you?" I repeated. I wasn't about to give information to a total stranger. "If you insist. My name is Hilda Carter, daughter of Beta Dillard Carter and chosen mate of future Alpha Alex Wildbreed."

I just know those people, and unfortunately, live with them. “No, no. I am talking about Hana and the other girls...” I enumerated their names, “Agnes, Fatma, Abigail, and Edith.” She stopped as she heard the names. “Go, just make yourself a meal or look for left overs. And do me a favor please, Mathilda, fix yourself for Saint Agatha’s sake.” She pushed me further the cookery, “I will continue with my meal now. Thank you for interrupting.” She fixed her dress as she noticed a few wrinkles, as if that would make her less old, scary and annoying, and then she strutted away.

And each pass seemed to extract more and more cloudy fluid from Ron's straining prick, plainly contrasting against the black casing until such time as one of the sexy bikini clad college girls slurped it past their puffy lips. After about 4 or 5 turns each, Hilda reemerged from the hallway, wearing a thin white robe, tied loosely and hanging to just below her ass. Her black hair was still slightly dripping from her shower, and even as she approached the threesome Ron could see way the dampening robe clung to her large, firm boobs, as well as smell the fresh clean scent of her body wash.