Ring Around the Collar

When I was a child there was an ad for a stain remover, its catch phrase was "ring around the collar". It couldn't have been that effective of an ad, mainly because I can't remember for sure which stain remover it was. Was it Spray and Wash (TM)? Shout (TM) perhaps? I don't know. Maybe it was for a detergent? But I do remember my mother used to say, "Her husband needs to wash his neck!" This sounded logical at the time.

Years later I discovered, being a B blood type that it is impossible for me to wear white without getting: you got it! Ring around the collar! My sweat is highly acidic and turns everything yellow. I wonder why they didn't talk about pit stains. Now those are an abomination. Perhaps it was considered too raunchy for TV. I don't know. I just wear black now; it's easier.

There are, however, worse things than ring around the collar and pit stains and so, now I shall present the seamier side of life, the squalid bits that I have not yet revealed. The horror, if I can tell it.

I have a friend from online (who shall remain nameless) that I have recently had occasion to visit because, well, she invited me over. Thinking that perhaps we might engage in a little cooking together, I brought over a bottle of wine, thinking that for sure she would have a chicken in her freezer.

The minute I arrived, the smell hit my nose-and I could not believe it. Would not believe it.

"You can park over here," she said, cuddling one of her darling babies (she had four little catties).

I parked.

Came in.

And spent an excruciating two hours viewing the movie she'd invited me over to.

"Popcorn?" She offered.

I declined. The smell did not lead one to want to eat. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

In addition to the cat poo smell, I could not fail to notice that she had neglected both bathrooms (can anyone sing the ring around the toilet song?!) and that the living room was also in shambles. This from a woman who had previously boasted that she would never pay anyone to do anything for her that she could do herself (she cut her own hair with astonishingly good results) and so this was why didn't hire anyone to clean, despite the fact that she made well over 100k a year.

When the movie was over, bid her adieu and left.

GOD! Cat Poo. No wonder my friend was so thin.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Theodore

"You know, you can come over, if you want," he said coyly over the phone.

"All right."

The house was white with a huge porch in the front. On the porch was a swing with a red cushion on it. As I walked up the driveway I saw him sitting on the swing. He wore a blue striped pajama bottom and his feet were bare, like his chest.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked as I walked up the steps.

He glanced down at his pajama bottoms, an erection-a giant one that appeared to be having a fight with America's finest fabric. "I gotta fever of a hundred and three!" He sang.

"Very funny. Inside."

He opened the door for me and then, giggling madly he swooped me up into his arms and carried me over the threshold. Panting, he put me down.

"Heavy, aren't I?"

He blushed.

"It's okay. I'm heavier than I look."

He grabbed my hand, "Shh, you don't want to wake up the cats!"

We tiptoed down the hall to his bedroom.

The carpeting was a deep maroon and terribly plush.

"Take off your clothes," he said hoarsely.

"I will not!" I snapped.

He laughed and then kissed me hard. "Clothing. Off."

"All right, already," I said, my heart beating faster and faster. Within seconds, I was starkers.

"Let me look at you," he said as he lay me upon the bed. "Oh, nice. Very, very nice. I especially like these," he ran his tongue over my left nipple and then my right. "Succulent," he said as he continued to licking at my nipples and sucking them, one by one-and then he put his hand on my little blonde vaggie. "Hot," he commented as he expertly toyed with my nether region. "I have to, " he brought his mouth down and he began licking me, his fingers spreading me open, his tongue hot on my clit. Back and forth he licked at me until I came. "Yum," he said. "Now I'm going to have to fuck you. Are you ready to fuck me, Hilda?"

"Yes."

He commenced by drawing his cock out of his pajama top. I gasped. It was quite large.

"You want to suck it first?" he asked.

"Yes."

He brought his cock to my mouth and I put my hand around it, and then the other hand and I licked his frenulum and then stuck the head in my mouth, in and out as I worked my hands up and down his shaft.

"Hilda," he groaned, "I NEED to fuck you, baby," he pulled out of my mouth and brought the tip down to my opening. "Wait," he stopped and began licking me again to be sure I was completely wet and then, his cock pushed. He pushed. And pushed. Ow..and then, oh. it went in and it was so nice. He fucked me slowly, "Do you like this, is this okay?" he said.

"Yessss," I moaned. "Fuck me Theodore, fuck me."

And he did.

For breakfast the next day Theodore made pancakes.

Shaped like Mickey Mouse(TM), they were god awful, but he MADE them for me.

AND- there was bacon!

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

The Chicken Who Died for my Sins

My darling fans, fear not, I have returned.

Last night I had an inexplicable craving for lasagna and so, upon leaving the house to meet a boy for drugs (yes, drugs, that's right! I don't have health insurance and this particular boy has access) I decided that I would after go to the supermarket.

"Here," he said, "pertussis is going around. I just want you to get better." He handed me a card of pills.

Wow. And he was totally hot. Thick medium blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, he drove a black Mercedes. He wore glasses. A total dream and a half.

"Now you call me or text me if you have any questions," he said.

"Okay."

His name is Theodore.

He's a doctor.

Can you believe it?

But back to the food!

I went into Frye's and right to the freezer section, hmm. Lasagna or Chicken parm? Chicken parm!

The next day, for second breakfast (about 9-ish) I cooked said Chicken parm. It was a Weight Watchers (TM) entree. When it was time to eat it (5 min, 30 seconds of cooking 2 minutes of waiting) I found a cold piece in the chicken-no matter, it appeared to be prec00ked but the taste was NOT Italian! The dish has a distinct Mexican flavor about it. Now I don't know about you, but having hailed from San Diego has inured me to Mexican. It's okay if you WANT Mexican, but I wanted ITALIAN!!!!

Sorry Weight Watchers(TM)-you need to adjust your directions and fix your flavorings.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Fast Food

I am largely, for the most part been a bit of a stranger to Twitter, but yesterday I renewed my acquaintance and learned two things: I am following Bob Cesca and Nathan Fillion. I am followed by some guy I don't know.

Now to be fair he may have been someone I've met. But I don't know. The people I meet swarm together in my mind in a blur and I tend to forget them. Mea culpa.

Bob Cesca because of what he writes on HuffPo-and Nathan Fillion, because as most of you already know, he is the body, the actor of our Captain, although to be fair, Fillion has gained a considerable amount of weight, while the Captain has maintained, or even lost weight. Either way, both of them keep me entertained; the Captain in the bedroom and Fillion on my tv screen. Even though he's gotten a wee bit chunky, there are times when I just look at him and feel that I am hopelessly in love with him.

I will not entertain the illusion however that I am the only woman in the universe to harbor such feelings. There is no doubt, any number of women who would sell their souls for him. And while I love him, he will NOT have my soul.

But back to my topic: Bob Cesca had tweeted in an address that sent me to an article about the McRib. The pic opened and a smear of BBQ sauce on the box was the first thing I saw. I scrolled down to see a ciabatta roll that was lightly dusted with cornmeal and the meat that dripped BBQ sauce. It looked profoundly delicious. But after seeing the initials HFC over and OVER and OVER again in the article, I was daunted and decided that even though it LOOKS delicious, it's just diabetes on a fancy bun-and you know how we, the black people of the world are prone to diabetes! Although to be fair, I'm also white. And don't even look black. Which must mean that my insides are black, ergo, I ought to be extra careful about what I eat.

The other thing was that I was craving those FRIES. You know, the fries, baby, the fries. But I got my lunch at the grocery. A sandwich that was on clearance. I wasn't sure what it was, but after biting in, I discovered it was roast beef in BBQ sauce. Delightful. Except the bread was stale. I had this with "Dirty" sour cream and onion kettle chips. Yummy. Drank water. Last time I buy a sandwich on CLEARANCE!

For the rest of the day, I drank soup because of my illness. I have pneumonia. Again. But the up side is (check this out): for the first time ever, I just spelled it right. I've written the word enough times now to not need spell check on it. Holla!

HS

Treed

Suffering from insomnia, I walked outside of my apartment and gazed up into the tree across from my door. There, in the branches, sat the Captain, completely starkers.

He held his hard cock in his hand and stroked it. "Hey, Hilda," he called to me.

I came over. "Touch it," he said.

I reached up and wrapped my hand around his member and drove it up and down with a twisting motion. Bringing it to my mouth, I peeled back the foreskin with my mouth and sucked noisily on the head, rubbing my thumb against his frenulum.

He moaned and put his hand gently on my head as I bobbed up and down with my mouth, my hand continuing to cover the base and most of the shaft. "Hilda," he said hoarsely.

I continued until he could no longer hold back and he shot into my mouth. I held his cum until he'd descended the tree-and when he kissed me, I gently deposited it into his mouth. He swallowed and I ran my lips over each one of his. First, the top, then the bottom. And then, both together. Sucking on his lower lip and running my hands over his nipples, he moaned and I ran my mouth down to his nipples and began to suck each one. "Hilda, Hilda," he kept saying my name. I continued down to his stomach and kissed each hip, being careful to avoid his penis, lest I disturb the refractory period.

He lay me down on the grass and tore off my nightgown, a dark blue lace affair that had a built -in bra. Hungrily he sucked upon my nipples, "So, pretty," he murmured, "so pink." Sweeping a hand over my belly he followed with his mouth down to my plump little thighs, his hand briefly caressing my hot little blonde vaggie. "Oh, Baby," he said, parting my legs and moving his head between them. He opened my labia with his hands and began licking up and down each lip, his mouth stopping briefly to suck on each one, sideways, before he came up to the top of the crest and began licking, side to side, his finger, finding my opening, he began to lick and finger fuck, in earnest, until I could no longer hold back-and I began to sing.

His cock, my this time, had hardened up quite nicely, so he put it in me and we fucked for a bit with him on top. "I love you," he said, coming into me-and then resting briefly on top of me, he hugged me tightly and then kissed me deeply.

"Mal?"

"Yes?"

"I've missed you."

"And, I, you," he patted my bottom.

"We've both been busy," I said.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I want you to know that just because I'm busy doesn't mean that I don't love you," he placed his finger on my lower lip and drew me into him.

"Same for me," I said, kissing him. (Really, it's been me, not him.)

"I know," he picked me up and carried me inside, "are you ready for bed now?"

"Yes," I said.

He lay me down on the bed and got in next to me.

Within minutes, we were both asleep.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson-Reynolds

Indigenous Food

Here in Tucson, you might think that there would be no indigenous food left. After all, this IS America. But the fact is, out here, people are using the flora and fauna to create certain delicacies that it is my duty to write about, to whit: the prickly pear.

I was fortunate enough to receive an appreciation gift of a jar of prickly pear syrup. It was profoundly delicious. The color of the syrup is fuchsia on the plate-and a deep light pink in the jar. The syrup is watery, but is not entirely lacking in viscosity. It is, in short, a way to disguise a poorly engineered pancake (which I confess I baked myself, in the oven, when I discovered the batter sticking to the frying pan with great tenacity. I decided: non-stick cookie sheet). The pancake, flat and WAAAY too salty, tasted fine under the prickly pear syrup.

In other news: I was recommended a restaurant for its clam chowder. The chowder in question was very good. There was just a hint of bacon and the potatoes were absolute perfections. The problem? The small size would have fed a family of four. I ate a fourth of it.

The fish taco I had ordered was mediocre, but then I had discovered that they had put the tarter sauce ON THE SIDE! (Who DOES that?!) I ate most of the taco sans tarter! Dreadful! (I love tartar sauce!)

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Evisceration!

Sing it to the tune of "Infatuation".

Now, my dear fans, you must understand my absence has been due to the fact that I have gotten a new job that keeps me very busy-and I am still "settling" here in Tucson.

On Friday, I was the first to arrive at work-and unfortunately had problems with the alarm. A short squat ugly Mexican "sheriff" arrived to harass me.

"You've got to calm down and stop crying," more sobs from me, "do you want to go to jail?"

I stepped away from him.

And later I dreamed of doing this:

I took out a tiny little shot gun-and shot him in the head. Then, I took a big ol' knife and eviscerated him. I mean, you know, the gunshot was to be sure he would sit STILL for his evisceration. His guts fell out and irrevocably stained his khaki uniform. "You, bitch!" He breathed his last.

Yes. Bitch IS the new black.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Dreams Of MGS

Last night I dreamed that Michael Scott was chosen for a mission.

He was the fifth. Meaning, he and others of his kind had been taken from other worlds (parallel universes) to complete a task. But the difference between THIS one and the others, was that this one was to be successful in the mission, where the others had failed.

The others were a bunch of depressed sad sacks. And of course, the difference between the fifth and the others was that he had Holly.

I think that we are all looking for our Holly. That person who completes us. The person who understands our foibles, accepts them, and accommodates us. The person to whom we say, "Ah! Yes!" Because they UNDERSTAND.

I am about to eat a chocolate cupcake with pink icing for breakfast.

Can anyone out there get that?

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Lay's Limon Potato Chips (TM)

My darling fans, lo se, it has been quite some time since I have written.

This is because I have relocated and have a new job. A job that enables me to afford the finer things in life, like a living room, good internet and an unlimited cell plan.

On my way out to Tucson, where I am presently residing, I developed an odd craving or two on the road. And all caution was thrown to the wind. I ate what I want, when I wanted and I didn't give a fig.

My hands were cut from all the moving I did, ergo, the last thing I wanted on my hands was salt.

And yet, there was this craving for Lay's Limon Potato Chips (TM). I opened the bag, while driving the truck (yes, a big fat truck!) and poked my face into the bag and lifted out a chip with my tongue. Delicious. Eating the chips without touching them with my hands changed the flavor. Instead of the usual taste, I could detect hints of Kellogg's Fruit Loops (TM) in the chips. It was indeed, a sublime experience, which taught me this: the taste of your fingers DOES influence the taste of the food. True, it's subtle. But from now on, I will eat Lay's Limon Potato Chips (TM) with just my mouth.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Mal in the Morning

The Captain sat, curled up in the sill of the window, fully dressed in uniform gazing out upon the street.

I woke up, stuck my head up out of the covers, blonde hair askew and said, "You don't exactly fit up there."

He laughed and somersaulted back into bed with me.

"God Mal, do you ever take off your boots?"

"I take them off."

"But we're in BED, Mal."

"I know, I just thought I'd get a jump on the day, we're doing a job."

"Why were you curled up in the window?"

"Just wanted to get a Hilda's eye view," he patted my bottom.

"Well," I said, "if you want to see what I see, you have to lie flat on your stomach and prop yourself up, like so," I demonstrated, my body in a modified cobra. "And THEN you can stare out the window for hours."

He gazed deeply into my eyes and then pushed my nightgown over my head.

"Mal!"

"What?"

"This," he said, rubbing my my left nipple with his forefinger and then taking it into his mouth, "is delicious."

"I KNOW," I said, wiggling away from him and getting up to pee.

When I returned, he had taken off everything, including his boots.

"What, no boots?"

"Funny. My Hilda is shiny funny," he kissed my nose, and then my neck-and then pushed my nightgown up over my head. His land lay on my belly as he sucked and licked at my nipples. "So, sweet, so nice and pink!" He exclaimed as he continued to lick at me, I became impatient, and squirmed out of his grasp to remove the nightgown. "You are so naughty," he said, grabbing me and giving me a little spank. He lay me on my stomach and ran his hand down to my bottom. "I like this. I like this, a lot. In fact," he said, kissing it tenderly, "I love it," he parted my legs and began licking me from behind as he kept one hand on my bottom. "Turn over," he said, lightly slapping my ass.

I obeyed and lay under him, completely starkers, his mouth moving over my stomach and down to my mons. "You love this. You love this, Hilda," he said, opening my legs and pulling my little blonde pouf out of his way, licking right at the top curve of my vulva-and then he found my little clit and began licking and sucking at it. "Mmm," he said, turning himself upside down, and straddling my face, he inserted his cock into my mouth. I took it in hand and began moving my hand up and down as I sucked at the head, licking and sucking hard upon his frenulum, he continued to eat my pussy, he moans becoming louder and more insistent. "Oh Hilda," he said, quickly, pulling out of my mouth, he then placed himself on top of me and pushed his hot hard cock inside of me.

I gasped. It went in with difficulty and then, encouraged by my squirming underneath me, began to fuck in earnest. "You love me, you love me," he said, his cock pumping in and out of me as I moved with him, my hands upon his hips, feeling the hard banging motion and his weight on top of me. He put his mouth to my left nipple and licked and sucked furiously as he banged his big cock in and out of me.

Finally, he spent-and then, in a grand finale, he again, returned to licking my little blonde vaggie, his finger moving in and out of me as he licked me, back and forth until finally, I began to sing-and by this time, he was hard again, he pushed into me, my hot wet pussy contracting around his hard cock, he fucked me, hard and fast, as I strummed my clit furiously with my hands, hoping that we could again, achieve mutuality. I came, but he did not. "Oh Hilda, I can feel it," he said excitedly, continuing to fuck me, until again, he spent.

He lay on top of me, briefly, kissing me furiously, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers, stroking my ears. "Oh Hilda, that was good one!'

"Indeed. Indeed it was," I sighed happily.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson-Reynolds

Veganism Revisited-and Failed

Yesterday I felt good and very full after having a vegan lunch that was composed of a soy veggie patty, a potato patty and green beans. I felt very good. And had no idea of the disaster that awaited me that evening.

For dinner, the same, but with rice instead of potato. But then, I was hungry again. Tried again. Same dinner again. This one HAD to take. It did not.

By 9 Pm, I was starving. Ate an apple. Some Brazil nuts.

By 10, I had decided I couldn't do, I couldn't. Not during my time. I could not. What a foolish enterprise I had embarked upon, trying to do a cleanse during my time.

At 11, it was a double portion of whey protein. Brazil nuts.

I had to force myself to sleep.

In the morning, I had to go to Jack in the Box(TM) because it is the only place you can get a burger in the morning. Think about it: if you try that shit at McDonalds(TM), they humorlessly remind you that "it's breakfast." Yeah. Fuck you too, McDonalds(TM). I just went somewhere ELSE to get my early morning burger fix. How do you like that!?

All right. I am a bit belligerent. I am. It's true. I'm not putting up with any shit.

But the Captain, bless his heart, has been a peach. A true peach.

He said to me, last night, "Hilda. I just love you. I love you so much, I do, I really do." And he just held me for a bit.

"Mal?"

"Did you bring me any chocolate?"

He looked stunned. And then he laughed and presented me with an enormous box.

"Mal!"

"No thanks needed. I stole it from the Empress herself."

"When she wasn't looking?"

"Fat old cow."

"Oh Mal! She's very lonely."

He rolled his eyes and then pulled me close and kissed me, slowly and passionately. He then picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder.

"Where are we going?"

"To my bunk," he said.

We appeared inside his room. It was very small and everything smelled like him. I lay on the bed, sniffing the pillow. "Hmm. I LIKE it!" I said.

"Let me get you out of those things," he unbuttoned my blouse and removed it, placing it very neatly on the floor. "Now this," he took off my tank top, "and these," he unbuttoned my jeans and had me step out of them until I was just in my bra and panties. I wore a navy blue lace bra in which my bubble gum pink nipples peeked through. The panties matched and at the lacy part, you could see my little blonde pouf. "Shiny," he said as he licked my nipples through the lace.

"Mal," I moaned.

He continued to lick and suck at the nipples, his hand moving down my stomach and then to my mons, he rubbed lightly at the blue lace. And then he moved his head down and began licking at the lacy part. He finally pushed them aside and began licking my clit in earnest, as he pushed a finger into my little blonde vaggie. "Hilda, you taste so gorram good," he growled.

"Fuck me, baby, Fuck me."

"Come for me, I want you to come," he kept licking at me, his finger working in and out.

"Mal," I moaned and squirmed under his tongue.

"That's it, darlin' come on, let's do it," he unbuttoned his pants and took out his cock. "Take some of this," he pushed into me. "Oh yeah, oh yeah," he moved in and out of me. Then, pulling out, he returned to licking me, his finger again, back moving in and out. His tongue moving east to west, back and forth again and again.

"Oh Mal, Oh. OHHHHH," I screamed.

He immediately pushed his cock inside me and began to fuck furiously. "That's is, yes, yes," he held my hands above my head and kissed me, his tongue inside my mouth as he he fucked me.

"Oh Mal," I struggled under him.

"Still," he commanded, "still," he fucked some more as I obeyed. Then he turned me over and smacked me gently on the ass, "My Hilda is a very very bad girl, very bad," he brought his tongue up to the tip of my ass crack and he fondled my bottom, "this, is very very nice, so hard, so tight," he raised my hips up until I was on all fours and then placed his cock inside me again as he fondled my breasts, wetting his fingers, he pinched at my nipples as he fucked me-and then he ran his hand down to my clit and began rubbing it as he fucked me again and again.

Exhausted he fell to the side so that we were lying on our sides, he continued to fuck me, his hand continuing to rub my clit, until I began to come.

And then: he did too.

It was amazing.

I love him.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson-Reynolds

Billy Ray's Generosity

"Sugar," the voice at the end of the phone drawled lazily.

"Hello, Billy Ray," I said.

"How you doin', my baby doll?"

"Well, to be completely honest, I've had a bit of a breakdown."

"My sweet darlin', what happened?"

"I had a job interview and they never called!" I broke into tears.

"Aw shucks, baby, that don't matter, no how. You were too good for them anyway."

"I guess," I said, somewhat mollified.

"I have a surprise for you!"

"You do?"

"I do. Open your door."

I went to the door and opened it. Billy Ray stood in front of me with a huge bouquet of white roses. He put his phone away and held out the flowers.

"Oh, Billy Ray, they're beautiful."

"Just like you. Now, come on, let's go."

"Let me pack a bag."

"No need, just grab your purse."

We went down to the car.

Billy Ray opened the door and I got in, my arms full of roses. And purse.

We drove for a few blocks, turned and then went anther few blocks and then parked in front of a little house.

"Are we visiting someone?"

"Darlin', just get out of the car." He helped me and the roses out of the car and then we went up to the front door. He got out a key and opened it. Then he picked me up and carried me inside.

"Billy Ray, what is going on?"

"Well, you know I got all this money, so I reckoned I'd do the right thing and get you a house, my darlin'. So I have a place to stay when I come to San Diego. Deed is in your name. So if you want me to go to a hotel that's also fine."

"Oh you silly boy!" I kissed him square on the mouth. "A hotel! Well, maybe, but as long as I'm with you."

"I like the way you think," he said.

The place was unfurnished, except for the bedroom which had a big round bed. It was made up with a pastel blue bedspread and had a red rose right in the middle.

"This is lovely," I said, smelling the rose.

"Not half as lovely, as you, my lovely," he said, kissing me gently. "Oh. And look under the pillows!"

I did. Adidas socks. Piles and piles of them. I nearly fainted with joy. "Oh Billy Ray!"

"Do I or do I not know what my Hilda likes?!"

"Indeed you do."

He then proceeded to unbutton my sweater, remove my tank top and my little mini skirt. He then sat back a bit and admired my undies. I was wearing a white bra with pink polka dots. The matching panty had a bow on the front and a completely sheer back. He traced the line of my bottom with his finger and then squeezed me. "You are a vision." He then kissed the top of my breasts and then reached around and removed the bra. "Lovely," he said, kissing and licking at each nipple. He then proceeded to lick and suck at my stomach, and then his mouth was on my panties. "Turn over."

I did.

He ran his tongue over the sheer back of the panties-and finally when he could stand it no more, he removed them. He then, opened my legs and continued to lick at me from behind. Finally, he turned me over and ran his tongue up and down and his lips sucked at my labia majora and then, he flicked his tongue over the minora and up to my clit. At which point, he began licking back and forth slowly, flicking his tongue around and around and back and forth, picking up speed and pressure until finally, I began to sing.

"Fuck me, Billy Ray," I begged.

He took out his cock and stroked it a bit, brought it to my mouth and said: "Suck it."

I did. Placing my hands on his shaft, I worked them up and down as I sucked and licked at his frenulum and then working the foreskin back with my mouth and up and down.

"That's good, that's enough," he bent down a bit to lick at me, to be sure I was ready and then he thrust his big cock inside of me. "How does that feel, sugar?"

"Good, it's good," I said.

"I'm going to fuck you good, baby doll," he said, his penis thrusting in and out of me.

I reached down to stroke his balls gently as he fucked me and put my hand around the base and worked it around and around as he fucked.

"That feels, so fucking good, sugar, oh yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, as I began to squeeze him tightly with each thrust.

"Fuck me, Billy Ray, fuck me," I cried.

And then he stopped, pulled out, and began licking at my clit again, "I want you to come for me, Hilda, come again." He kept licking and sucking, back and forth and back and forth.

"Fuck me, Billy Ray."

"Not until you come, sugar, I want to feel you come around my big cock," he kept licking my clit and then finger fucking me at the same time. "Come baby, come on now. I know you can do it."

I began to sing.

"That's it, sugar," he thrust back into me, fucking me furiously. "I can feel you coming baby, it feels so good," he kept fucking, holding my arms above my head, wrists pinned. "That's it, yes, yes, yes, OHHHHHH," he came hard, his semen spurting into me like fire. "Very good, Hilda. Very good," he said.

He pulled out, picked me up and took me to the bathroom.

A bubble bath was waiting. Complete with rose petals floating around in the tub.

"Oh, Billy Ray, you think of everything."

"Don't I now?" He grinned and gently put me in the tub.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Handling Pan Handlers (WITHOUT touching them! EW!)

One of the more annoying aspects of living in San Diego is the fact that because it is warm nearly year round, we have a huge amount of homeless. To continue with my "modest proposal" would certainly incense people, so we'll skip that for the moment and talk about what we know, and what has happened.

A friend who once took me to a Padres game told me about a friend who had "gone homeless"-and the verdict? It was to not have to pay rent. And so, the friend found that good portion of them are indeed willfully homeless. Some men do it so that they won't have to work and pay child support.

But of course, pan handlers may or may not be homeless. They camp out at highway exits with their cardboard signs and accost you on the street, "Hey, can you help me get something to eat?" I was asked one day, on the way to a date.

I turned, and looked at the man. He didn't look like he'd EVER missed a meal. I simply said, "Of course. There's a dumpster out behind the Jack in the Box (TM) -or, here's an idea, why don't you go to a sit down restaurant and order food, not pay for it, get arrested-and then you'll get all the free meals you want."

He stomped off in a huff.

Well. I never, indeed! Lol. The homeless, ladies and gentlemen, the homeless.

Of course, I am heartless and cruel.

But, I think that's part of my charm.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Swimming in Wine

I had the pleasure of dining, or rather, drinking and having appetizers at The Tractor Room. For those of you who don't know, they have a huge variety of specialty drinks that are, for all intents and purposes, original AND yummy.

I had a watermelon beverage flavored with mint. It was cool and refreshing and quite intoxicating. In fact, I managed to become quite tipsy from just ONE.

My companion had ordered a rather dry red wine, of which I am ashamed to say, I can't remember the name of. That's right, my darling fans, I am teetering on the edge of menopause and great blanks fill my mind, the way buffalo used to fill the Great Plains.

And speaking of buffalo, and other exotic edibles, I ate wild boar AND elk. The boar was in an eggroll filled with meat and potatoes, served on a salad with a vinegar based dressing (not sure what it was, not exactly balsamic, something else, but it was very tangy). The elk in a ravioli that was rather crisp on the outside, was it supposed to be crisp?

But the fantasy was this: when I sipped my companion's wine, I felt the urge to miniaturize myself, and dive down into the glass, completely starkers.

As we left, there were little samples outside, boar and polenta. The polenta was perfectly fried and smelled heavenly.

"I like how you smelled it first," the young man in charge of the samples said.

Of course, I could not resist the urge to bring another fan into the fold and told him to Google me. I am after all, very Googleable.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

A Modest Proposal Revisited

Jonathan Swift, much like Thomas Malthus, had a point. And that is: we are drowning in people. What with all this unemployment and the poverty and the disease. This is no way to live. What with our economy in the toilet and the Republicans driving our country into an even deeper ditch! The motive to make OBAMA LOOK BAD! Okay, I said it. Can we deal with it, can we reason against the Republican mendacity? Can we? Can we fuck them up? Let's do that. I have a modest proposal to get the economy "back on track".

Jonathan Swift wrote about the Irish, who, like today's Mexicans, are breeding like, well, rabbits, can I say that? (Of course I can! This is satire, you idiots! So NO HATE MAIL!) And it's not just Mexicans that are breeding. All SORTS of people are having children. And for what? To fill our useless schools? To create employment for obstetricians? I'm not sure why. But the supermarkets are filled with people. The lines, my dear reader! The lines! They are keeping me from my little chocolate cupcakes with HUGE mint heads!

At times, I feel as if I should just open up a vein in a hot bath (this is called a Roman bath, for those of you who don't know)-and be done with it all.

What is it all for anyway?

But onto the proposal. I am, after all, a devotee to all things delicious. And I can imagine how much our right to lifers will enjoy the meals I devise for them, as well as all the oil company executives, and, well, Republicans in general. Because they are all evil. Let's make no mistake about THAT.

It was revealed to me at one point in time, that the reason that Jews and Muslims do not eat pork is NOT because of parasites. No. It is because some cultures refer to humans as "long pig"-go ahead, look it up, I dare you-and it is the same reason firemen will not eat pork. They are all familiar with the smell, dare I say it? Humans are a form of pork. We are pork, I tell you, pork!

And, let me remind you, before you accuse me of hellish insanity, that was are still having some satire going on. So fear not, my little chickens. I mean piggies.

Here is my proposal: For all of the unemployed poor people who can't get work, they can turn all of their excess babies into a butchery, for lots and lots of money. The Republicans can finally get something to eat that they've always wanted-and the economy is saved.

I'm sorry. I'm not going to be like Mr. Swift and give all the details of how great it will be. Well, all right. Some: think of all the abortions that won't happen! That's right, instead of aborting your child, you can sell it and it can be eaten! The right to lifers will LOVE it! No more abortion!

Hmm. What else? Well, there might be some unemployment at the diaper factories. That would be bad, so maybe. Oh shit. What will we do with all the unemployed diaper workers? And the retail baby store workers?

Wait. Hmm. Well, at least there will be fewer poor people. Oh. But the schools. Shit. We have to fill the schools or there will be unemployed teachers! And principals! (Well, it 'ent like they do any real work no how anyway!) But they won't have their huge salaries! The economy will collapse! (Oh. Wait. Hasn't it?)

I don't know.

But at least the Republicans will get a good meal.

And, after all, isn't that the point?

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

That's Where the Bad Bees Go

is a line from a song. And I couldn't remember the song. It was from camp. And now I remember "way down upon the Swanee River, that's where the bad bees go".

This line popped into my head as I was cruising Ralph's looking for those elusive tiny chocolate cupcakes with HUGE mint heads. There weren't any. Sad.

There was a slice of deep chocolate cake from the Cheesecake Factory, it had a dollop of whipped cream beside it. It looked like it would put a person in a diabetic coma-and the PRICE of it! It was practically four dollars for a SLICE. Yeah.

Going around the bakery, there was the same old stuff: tons of red velvet cupcakes, cakes, beribboned pink things, chocolate things, same old stuff. WHERE were my cupcakes?!

One thing that looked especially good was the chocolate rugulach. I used to make rugulach with homemade cream cheese (you use raw milk that's sat around a bit and strain it through cheese cloth to make cream cheese. It make superlative rugulach-and it's GOOD for you). Anyway, of course I didn't buy it.

I also gave a longing look to the gummy bears. R and I are having a tryst this Friday and I thought about placing gummies all over his hairy chest and vacuuming them off with my mouth. I am supposed to bring strawberries. Well, I might bring both. Or nothing. It depends on how I am running. As in: I have an audition tomorrow. I'm sure it won't take very long. I'm hoping to be out of there in time to go home and have a wee bit of a nap, but of course, I'll be too excited to nap. I do hope I will have time to stop by the grocery. If not, he will have to forgive me-as I am most anxious to see him.

What I actually did after cruising Ralph's was pop into Trader Joe's and get a Caesar salad, organic carrots, almond milk and yoghurt dip. Then back to Ralph's for Annie Chun's Wasabi Seaweed Snacks(TM), a cucumber and half a pound of ground sirloin-which I overcooked:(

I like it practically raw of course. I ate it over the Caesar salad along with cucumber slices, carrots and the crouton, all dipped in the yoghurt dip. Delish!

Of course, you want to hear about the three squares of chocolate and brazil nuts I ate, complete with a shot glass of wine (which I shouldn't be drinking but I WANTED it-and the chocolate SO badly that I just had to have them.)

Last? A glass of almond milk with stevia.

I'm ready for my coma, Mr. DeMille.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Where Cap and I ..

get married.

Yes. Married.

You knew it was coming, so here it is.

Tom and Agnes, being very good sports agreed to come to Vegas with us to be our witnesses. We didn't want or need more than two because OUR wedding was to be so private that all would be blindfolded, save, the bride and groom.

Of course, we had to have an Elvis impersonator. The one we chose was young and stocky with real sideburns. I made him promise not to peek.

Tom and Agnes, of course, being good sports agreed to wear the eye shades because of what I would be wearing: for Mal's eyes only!

To describe for you: the room was the bridal suite with a big round bed. The coverlet was white satin and I thanked god that it wasn't my time.

The kitchen was luxurious and there was a large sunken in hot tub in the bathroom, truly any and everything we could ever need or want was in that suite.

When we arrived, Mal and I both unpacked and changed into our wedding gear.

He wore blue pencil stripe Brooks Brothers (TM) boxers and looked sublime. Of course, he went out into the living room portion of the room to get ready (as in, strip down)-and I got ready in the bedroom part.

I wore a white satin bra with lace at the top of the cups and a matching satin panty that had a see thru panel at the crotch. On my head, I wore a long white veil that covered me from my face down to my knees. The effect? You could see through the veil, but just barely. My blonde hair was in silky corkscrew curls and I wore a dark red lipstick. I looked nothing short of ravishing.

When I was ready, I texted our witnesses and the Elvis impersonator. They came in and Mal gave them their blind folds.

Mal pressed a button on the Ipod and the Canon in D began to play and I solemnly marched out of the bedroom up to my lover. He looked so happy and delighted that I tingled inside. He took my hand and we began.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today, to unite this man (he couldn't see, but he nodded, as if he could toward Mal) and this woman in holy matrimony. If anyone can see any reason why they should not be joined, let him speak now or forever hold his peace. Do you Hilda, take Mal to be your lawful wedded husband, to love, honor and cherish him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"And do you Mal, take Hilda to be your lawful wedded wife, to love honor and cherish for as long as you both shall live?"

"I surely do," Mal gazed into my eyes, and I nearly began to cry.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I hear by pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," he finished.

Mal reached down and pulled back the veil, took me in his arms and gave me a long kiss.

There was a silence. And then applause from Tom and Agnes.

"Thank you kindly for coming," Mal said. "Now get out."

Everyone laughed and he pointed everyone toward the door.

When it closed, he said, "Alone at last." And then, "I love this," he said indicating my outfit.

"I kind of thought you would."

He picked me up and carried me to the bed. "Champagne?" he opened a bottle and poured me a glass.

"Mmm. I like it!"

"Cake?" he went out to the kitchen and returned with two pieces of cake.

"Oh, Mal. I love you so much."

"I know." He took the cake in his hand and fed it to me. It was a chocolate cake with white icing covered with coconut. Then he brought the glass up to my lips to drink more champagne. When he set the glass down, I fed him his piece.

"Sweetie?"

"Yes?"

"I want more cake!"

So he went to the kitchen and brought back more cake. "You can have this. But after I've had some Hilda," he said, kissing my stomach as he pinned me to the bed. He brought his mouth down to my thighs and licked at them expertly-and then he brought his mouth to the see through crotch of the panties and began to lick. "Mmm, this is very very nice." He drank some champagne and spilled some more on my stomach and licked it off. "Oh, me oh my! I seem to have gotten some on your panties. I must remove them." He did. And then he said, "You know, I think this needs to come off too." He went up to my bra, kissed the top of my breasts and removed my bra. "And of course, these need some champagne," he poured a bit on my nipples an licked it off, alternating between right and left, his tongue going a mile a minute, as his hands ran up and down my inner thighs.

"Oh Mal," I said.

"Hilda." He made his way down my stomach to my pudenda, which he sucked at briefly before licking my pussy from bottom to top-and then he started in on my clit, which he licked at back and forth, east to west and he pumped a finger inside me. "Oh, sweetheart, you're so wet, so ready," he said, taking out his cock. He ran bounced it on my pudenda and then brought it down from my clit to my slit and then he pushed it in. "Oh, my," he said. "So hot, so wet, so tight," he began to thrust in and out of me as he held my wrists down. "Oh, I'm close, so close," he said, pulling out and getting on his knees, he began to lick at my clit again, back and forth until finally I came and he put his cock back in as I was climaxing-pumping in and out until finally he spent, his hot cum spurting inside me. "Hilda." He kissed me again and again. "I surely do love you," he held me.

"And I you," I said. And then I said, "Cake?"

"You're insatiable. Incorrigible."

"Feed me, baby, feed me."

He did.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson-Reynolds

Waffletopia at Florence and Lawrence's

Florence and Lawrence have been married for over 25 years. They have a house in El Cajon complete with a pool. We voted to have our annual pool party at Florence's house because oddly, she is the only member WITH a pool.

Florence has been a member of my book club, long before even I belonged. Yesterday was a grand barbecue, complete with grilled chicken, hamburgers, potato salad and deep fried waffles, courtesy of yours truly. That's right, my darling fans, these waffles were deep fried and served with a choice of honey liquor OR real maple syrup.

Allow me to explain how these are made. A milk and egg wash is made with a little bit of vanilla, in which Eggo(TM) waffles are dipped-and then dredged in flour. The waffle is then placed in a sizzling pan full of oil and fried until golden brown. They were legend (wait for it!) dary! Everyone loved them.

The Captain came with me, of course, wearing an Adidas(TM) golf shirt and the most adorable Adidas(TM) shorts. He has become, like me, a veritable Adidas(TM) freak. I wore my skirted bikini bottoms from Gap(TM) and a pink Panache(TM) bikini top which I had purchased on clearance at Breakout Bras. I got flour all over the bikini top and flour all over my stomach-and there was a bit on my face.

"Hilda," Mal approached, his plate full of waffles and syrup, "these are the shiniest things I've ever eaten."

"Thanks, Babylove," I hugged and kissed him.

"You are covered!"He indicated the flour on me.

"Si. Covered. Perhaps you have a remedy?"

"Let me finish these," he crunched into a waffle and then fed me a piece.

"Wow, these ARE good," I said.

"Shiny," he agreed.

When we had finished eating, Mal took me by the hand and led me to the pool house.

"Are we supposed to be in here?" I asked nervously.

He kissed my lips, "I got the key from Lawrence," he said, holding it up and then putting it back in his pocket.

"Oh, Mal. You're making friends. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah," he licked my neck, "ugh," he shuddered.

"Sunscreen," I explained.

"Right. Well," he led me over to a chaise and sat me down, "there are some spots where you didn't spray, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so," I slid off my sandals and lay back on the chaise.

"Like under here?" he took off my bikini bottom and ran his hand over my pudenda and down to where I was getting very very wet. He licked his fingers, "Shiny, now lie back-and keep those legs open," he began licking at me, as he pushed a finger inside me, in and out as he licked at my little clit, back and forth until I came. "Mmm, I can feel that," he said, withdrawing his finger, and licking it. "You're so sweet and tight," he said. "Now I want you to have some of this," he took out his cock. "Aw hell," he took off all his clothes, removed my bikini top and placed his cock between my breasts. He moved his cock up and down as I squeezed my breasts together. "Have some," he said as he brought his cock to my mouth.

"Mmm," I took his cock by the hand and sucked on the head, licking at his frenulum, peeling back his foreskin with my lips and moving my mouth all the way down to the base and then up to the head again. I concentrated on the head as I ran my hand up and down the shaft.

"Oh, Hilda, Hilda, baby, mmm. I just want to be inside you," abruptly, he pulled out of my mouth and brought his cock down to my little blonde vaggie. He tapped it against my pudenda and over my clit and then he pushed it in.

"Malcolm, Malcolm, fuck me, fuck me," I murmured.

He obliged, taking my right breast and suckling at it as he fucked me, and then moving to the left, his tongue moving rapidly over the nipple as I felt his cock going in and out of me. Then he put his mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth, he continue to fuck, his mouth going over to my ear, then my neck-and then he pulled out and moved down so he could lick at my clit for a bit, and then he pushed back into me and kept fucking me. "I'm going to come," he said, "Oh, oh, oooh!" he came, his hot wet semen spurting into me.

He held me close.

We emerged from the pool house to applause.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

R has another marvelous return

The 5 Freeway can be a bitch. Meaning: do I really have to say? Lawd in heaven. Dreadful. Particularly on a Friday night.

R had flown into Carlsbad on a Thursday and I was to meet him at a remarkably unposh, but clean motel right off the 5, lest I get lost. There is nothing worse than getting lost.

He told me he was in room 216, so I parked my car, and went over to the room. I knocked. He answered-and a joyous reunion ensued.

I had brought strawberries. Yes. Strawberries. As of late, our California Strawberries have been nothing short of superb. And I am not talking about the ultra expensive organics or "sweets"-I mean the really ordinary strawberry has become a veritable heaven of sweet acidity in my mouth.

He had, in lieu of Adidas socks, strewn white rose petals all over the bed, which I thought was very romantic.

"Hi," I went up to him, stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

He responded by picking me up and gently laying me on the bed. "Are these washed?"

"No," I looked at the ceiling.

"Never mind, I'll wash them." He took the berries over to the sink and washed them, laying them out on one of the white towels.

"You gon' be paying for that," I said.

He shrugged. "It should come out. It's only a towel." He picked up the towel, full of strawberries and brought it over to the bed. He caressed my cheek, held my face in both hands, kissed me and then brought a strawberry to my mouth. I ate it, the fruit was firm against my lips. I bit, chewed, swallowed and then finished the strawberry as he held it by its green stem. And then I fed him one. "That's enough strawberry, I want some Hilda, he said, pulling my dress off. "Pretty," he admired the pink and black bra and panty set, "This can stay on," he said indicating the bra, "because we're going out to dinner soon, but these," he pulled off my lacy boy shorts, must come off. Lie still."

I did as he licked and kissed at my thighs, his tongue finally reaching my clit, he began to lick at me rapidly. I moaned with pleasure.

"Come, Hilda, I want you to come," he said between licks. "Aw hell, this has got to come off, I have got to see those pretty tits," he said after a bit as he removed my bra and licked at my bubble gum pink nipples. "Damn." He tore off his clothes, and turned me upside down and presented me with his big hard cock to suck on. "Take it, take all of it," he said.

I sucked on the head a bit and then took all of it in, down to the base.

"That's it baby, suck it, suck it, damn, fuck, shit, I'm going to come," he said.

And he did, his cum spurted deep inside my throat and I swallowed it and then ate a strawberry. Then I kissed him. "Shit. That was too quick," he said.

"No, I liked it. It was good."

"It was good. Now turn over."

I turned on my stomach and he rubbed my back and then my ass. He parted my ass cheeks and started to lick the top part of my crack, running his hand over my parted ass, and then down to my hot wet vaggie, he lifted my bottom up and started licked me from behind. "Dammit," he swore and turned me over where he could get at my clit with greater ease, he was licking it back and forth, a finger inside me, pumping me as he licked.

I moaned with pleasure, saying his name over and over again, "Lick me, lick me," I said, "oh fuck me, fuck me," I begged.

"Not yet," he said, "you have to come first, come for me, Hilda, come, I want to feel you come." He continued to lick me and fuck me with his finger.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," I began to move under his tongue and hand until finally, I came-and loudly.

"Hilda," he said, kissing me. He picked me up and carried me to the shower where he bathed me, toweled me dry and then he dressed me. "Are we ready for dinner now?" he asked.

"All right," I said.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Billy Ray's Itenerancy

And it so happened to pass that Billy Ray's lair lay far away in a land named Rancho Santa Margarita. It was enough to make one want to drink an entire BOTTLE of Patron.

He came down on a Saturday, not wanting to be intrusive or see the disaster of my closet, he had booked a room at the Double Tree in Hazard center.

"We can go in at 1," he said.

"Right after lunch!" I exclaimed.

"No," he said flatly, "it will BE lunch, or to be more precise, darlin' you will be my lunch."

He collected me in his eco mobile. Poor dear, he feels so guilty about his oil tycoonery.

The inside of the hotel is set up so that you have to descend a long stair case to get to the front desk.

The desk clerk gave him the key card and off we went to the room.

He opened the door and we went in. Two beds.

"One for now-and one for later," he said simply. Then: "Strip."

I obeyed. Quickly I took off everything, folded it neatly and then pulled back the coverlet of the bed and sat.

"Now Hilda, darlin'. I just want you to lie back," I obeyed putting my head on the pillow. "that's right, get comfortable," he took the pillow from the other side of the bed and placed it under my hips. "Nice, very nice," he kicked off his shoes and sat beside me. "I just want to look at you," he traced the contours of my face-and then kissed me, putting his top lip between mine for me to suck and then, he flicked his tongue inside my mouth a bit. Then he ran his mouth down to my neck while he caressed my breasts, "beautiful," he picked up the left one and placed the nipple in his mouth, he sucked gently and then moved to the right one. Last he pushed them together and licked both nipples at once. He put his hand between my legs, "Oh, yeah, you're getting wet, baby doll." He took out his cock and brought it to my mouth, "Suck it."

I did. My hands moving up and down his shaft as I sucked and licked at the head.

"That's enough," he said, taking my hands and pinning my wrists down, he turned my body so that my ass was right on the edge of the bed, my legs open and waiting, he pushed his hard thick cock into me, making me cry out. "Hilda, oh Hilda, I'm going to fuck you."

"Yes, yes, fuck me," I murmured, struggling to get my hands free as he continued to hold my wrists.

"You will not move," he commanded, fucking me harder and harder.

I remained still, yet still contracting around him.

"I said, still," he broke out of me, turned me over and spanked me lightly, his cock shiny with my juices. "Now suck," he commanded. "Good, good, my filthy little one, suck it good," he said, his hands on my hair. I put my hands on his cock to help, as it was too big to suck all the way down, my tongue licking at his frenulum and I went up and down his shaft, my hand pulling back his foreskin to cover his cock-and then pulling it down and off the head with my mouth, working my hand in a circle up and down his cock. "Hilda," he moaned and I felt him grow even harder.

At this point, his suit had become quite the impediment, so he took off his shirt, his pants and his boxers, leaving his tie on, that he slung back over his shoulder.

He then pressed my shoulders back into the pillow, then I felt his tongue on my pussy, licking and sucking, he moved east to west, "are you almost there, darlin', are you close?"

"Yes, yes,"

He stopped and the thrust his cock inside me. "This time, I want you to squeeze it, each time I pull it in and then as I pull it out."

He pushed into me slowly. I squeezed around his cock-and then he pulled out, ever so slowly with my next breath and I squeezed again. "That's it, darlin', I want to feel your hot wet pussy squeezing around my cock, keep it up, oh yeah. That's good, good, but now, darlin' I want to feel you come around my cock." He flipped me over and entered me from behind slowly and carefully. He put his fingers in my mouth and then he began playing with my clit, back and forth, slow and light, as he thrust his cock inside me, but picking up speed and pressure until finally, I began to sing-and he was still. "That's it, darlin', I can feel it, you feel so good, so tight." And when I stopped pulsing he picked up speed, his cock going in and out of me, his hand again, rubbing at my clit. He brought his cock in and out of me, faster and faster, until he spent. I was still. And then, I contracted around his cock as his vibrations began to fade. And I came again, as his hand didn't stop until he heard me sing.

"Billy Ray."

"Hilda."

"I think I love you."

"Right back atcha."

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Where Cap and I Make Up

"Hilda?" he came in through the wall, soaking wet, wearing a Pea coat and long wool trousers.

"Mal! Let me get you out of those things," I said.

I removed the coat and hung it up. Next I unbuckled his trousers and took off the rugby shirt he was wearing.

"Where have you been?"

"To London."

"To see The Queen, no doubt."

He grinned. "I'm sorry. I just, gorramit, Hildy, I've been thinking about you, night and day and what we have is just-"

"I know," I said.

He picked me up and I put my legs around him and he solemnly carried me to the bed, wearing only his boxer shorts. They were blue and dry. The wool trousers had kept the rain out.

"I brought you something," he reached into the wall and pulled out a pink box.

"Oh! What is it?"

"It's something I'd kind of like to see you wear. If you've a mind to, that is," he blushed a little bit.

I opened the box and inside was a sheer light pink nightgown with lace inlets.

"To match your nipples," he said.

"I LIKE it!" I stripped down and immediately put it on.

"Oh Hilda," he said, his hands cupping my breasts, he put his mouth to my nipple and licked and sucked. "Oh, and there's something else in the box."

"There is?"

"Uh huh."

Truly, there was! It was a tiny box with two chocolates in it.

"One for me and one for you," he said.

"Malcolm!"

"I know. Am I great or what?"

I laughed and pulled out a chocolate, bit into it-carmel oozed out and I licked it off my fingers. I fed him the second bite. Then I bit into the second. Coconut. Dark chocolate and rich creamy coconut. I did not share. "Captain, you are!"

He threw me down on the bed and returned attending to my nipples, which strategically poked out of the nightgown he has procured for me. And of course, there were matching crotchless panties!

He made his way down my body, licking and sucking, his fingers moving in and out of me as he licked at my little clit. When I climaxed, I sang, per usual. And then he took out his cock. Which I sucked upon until he could no longer stand it and he had to fuck me.

He was on top, moving in and out of me, his hard cock getting harder and harder until he had to pause. I gave him a squeeze, "Thinking about baseball?"

"What?"

"Oh right. Um. Shall I turn over?"

"Yes."

He helped turn me over and entered me from behind, his hands stroking my nipples and then, as he fucked, he moved his fingers lightly and quickly over my clit, wetting them with his mouth he kept fucking and rubbing until he put his mouth upon mine, and thrusting his tongue in me, we both came together.

It was perfect.

I remain, sated, but not for long,

Hilda Stinson

Haunted

I got a letter today from R.

Contained in the letter was a photo. He was wearing a towel.

Which I liked. I wrote him back, "tasteful." Because it was.

I mean, it beats the pants off a cock shot. Ever get a cock shot? It's just kind of-well, ruins everything. This was perfect sexing. All I could think about for the rest of the day was him. In a towel.

I saw him sitting on the desk across from me, gazing intently at me.

And he came over, pulled me out of the chair and undressed me. Draping me over the desk, he started going down on me. And then, he was fucking me. And then I was sucking him. And then I was on top of him, grinding VAR VAR slooooowly. Talk about distracting!

All in my mind, of course.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Habit

I think that habits really have an effect on our eating. For example today, I was in Ralph's-and I had a lovely chat with the pastry girl-the ladies in the bakery department are so nice-about why there are no tiny little cupcake twins: they are out of the plastic boxes. Tragedy! So no baby chocolate cupcakes with HUGE mint heads for Hilda tonight. Nothing else would do.

I walked past a display of gummy bears, lusting in my heart for them. But did I buy them? No. It's not in my nature to do so, so I didn't. But of course NOW I'm formulating a fantasy about them, which will come next. So stay tuned, my darling fans. Especially, YOU my "most faithful reader"-this one will be for and about YOU. Even though, it really isn't. This is fiction! I have to keep reminding you all of that!

I also briefly considered potato chips. But when you can get the sensation OF potato chips from the seaweed snacks, why on EARTH would you buy potato chips?

So this is what I got: for the second day in a row, I got an eggplant sandwich. I know. I'm an addict. Eggplant hummus, cucumbers (which were DELIGHTFULLY crisp!), edamame and a Greek salad. I ate half the sandwich, carefully saving and wrapping up the dip and other half of said sandwich to tomorrow's lunch. A little bit of hummus dip for the cucumber, which I didn't finish and also saved for tomorrow and a whole package of the seaweed snacks. You know, you can't just NOT finish the box! Only sixty calories! And I ate a few bites of the Greek salad, keeping the dressing ON THE SIDE. That will also be consumed at lunch tomorrow. God willing (and the crik don't rise!)!

All right. I know. You want to know about the gummy bears.

Billy Ray. Rather an unlikely name for a paramour, I know.

He wore boots, tight jeans and a smile that would knock you on your ass, had you a mind to be knocked there.

My neighbor had dragged me out to Mo's, which is a gay club here in our gayborhood. It was country dance night and lo and behold did she love country dance. And cowboys. (But that's another story.)

We had set sail from her house, appropriately attired in jeans, boots and snap up western blouses that set off our large American breasts. I, tall and slender (well, next to her) and she, short and sassy with a bootie that would NOT quit. So not fair. Her being white and all. I mean. You know cauc. And me being black, but no bootie. Well, of course nobody thinks I'm black anyway. Fuck. My mother IS Swedish!

Even though Mo's is gay, every so often a straight man or two gets in. And that's how I met Billy Ray. He was dancing next to me during a line dance when it switched to a slow tune.

"Dance?" he said.

"Okay," I said bravely, thinking he was gay.

But then, it didn't FEEL gay the way he held me.

"You're straight, then?" I asked.

"Yup," he grinned and dipped me.

"So, how?"

"Gay brother."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I'm in town visiting. It's his birthday."

"Oh, cool. Does he mind that you're with me?"

"Aw heck no, that's him over there," he pointed.

"The little blonde?"

"No, the bigger one."

"Oh yeah, he kind of looks like you. Cute. Wow, they are really going at it."

"That's E.J. for you!" He twirled me around, "He's not going to notice if the roof caves in!"

"Hey, Hilda," Denise came over to me. "I'm going go home with him," she gazed lustfully up at her soon to be conquered one. "You'll be all right, yeah?"

"Oh yeah, dude, it's cool. I got me a live one too." I squeezed Billy Ray's arm.

"All right," she fist bumped me.

"See you tomorrow!" I called as they left.

So that left me with Billy Ray.

We danced some more, and then he suggested we go back to his hotel room.

"All right," I said.

On the way, we stopped at Ralph's and got some Patron, coke and some gummy bears. "I love those things," he confessed.

"They feel so good in your mouth," I agreed. "So chewy delicious."

He was staying at a suite downtown. We rode the elevator UP to the top.

"Penthouse? Really?"

"Well, I am very very rich," he said. "Sorry. It's oil money. Inheritance. I know. I'm sorry." He looked troubled.

"It's okay."

"No. It's awful. And dammit. I just."

"I'm sure you're a great tipper."

He brightened at this. "I am. I tipped the bell boy 200 bucks."

"See?"

"And the bartender 300."

"Okay. That's a little overboard."

"Yeah. I know, but I just feel for people."

"Well, you COULD assassinate all the Republicans!"

He laughed. "Then I'd be killing off half my family!"

"Okay. That's bad. I'm not SERIOUS."

"I know, Hilda. You're fun," he put his hands on my hips, "really fun," and pulled me close and kissed me. "You know, we could wait. You know. We don't have to right now," he said.

"Well, you're here. I'm here."

"Oh. Thank God!" He put my hand to his jeans, "You feel that?"

I did. It was big. "Wow," was all I could say.

"I'm go'n give it to you like it's never been given," he said, unsnapping my blouse. "Wow, these are nice," he said, kissing the tops of my breasts. He reached behind and undid my bra.

"You've done this before," I said.

"I can't fool you," he grinned.

He took off my jeans and then carried me to the big round bed.

"I like these panties," he said. "I'm going to eat them off you, a'course."

He lay me down and proceeded to do just that, eventually he got them off with his teeth. No mean feat!

I moaned with pleasure as he licked my bare inner thighs and then ran his tongue up to my labia and inside. He licked and licked at my little clit, back and forth, around and around, until he made me sing.

He was still dressed.

Carefully he removed his boots, then his jeans and his shirt. He wore red silk boxers with little brown polka dots all over them. He brought his pelvis up close to my face, so that all I could see were little brown dots on a background of bright red-and in that, a huge protrusion underneath that I stroked with my hand. "Silky," I said. And then, I put my mouth on the silk over the protrusion that jutted out so thickly and then my hands were moving over the silk in unison with my mouth, until he could take it no longer and he ripped his shorts right off his body. The feel of his bare cock in my mouth was sublime. Up and down the shaft, my lips pulled his foreskin back to reveal a thick ridged head where I found his frenulum and licked madly- and then I went down to the base as I cupped his balls. Up and down, he moaned with pleasure-and then I felt him harden even more and he said, "I'm going to come," and he did, deep into my throat.

"Here, have a bear," he opened the package and fed me a bear. Then he kissed me. "Mmm. I love that." He then said, "Lie down. You're going to like this." He placed the bears all over my body. And then ate them off of me.

"Um, you're going to have to brush your teeth before you," I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Sugar down there. No good," he walked into the bathroom, brushed and mouth washed himself and came back.

"Now you taste like toothpaste!"

"That's all right, pretty soon, I'm going to taste like Hilda, so don't you be fretting a whit." He took a breast in hand and sucked upon it. "Hoo whee, so fine, baby, so fine," and then he sucked on the other briefly. "I really like these," he cupped them together so that he could suck on both nipples at once. He began licking the nipples together, back and forth. "Lie down," he commanded.

I did.

He ran his hand over my stomach and down toward my little blonde pouf. He took his finger and wrapped it around my pouf and then took a playful lick right under it. "Oh. Sweet, so sweet," he said, moving to position his head between my legs. He licked me again and again, making me come so hard that I could barely breath. "Now, I'm go'n fuck you." He

ran his hand up his cock to make it harder and brought it to my mouth, "suck it, make it harder."

So I took his penis in my mouth and made sure that I pushed the foreskin back carefully with my mouth and then down to the base, again and again, then licking at his frenulum moving my hands up and down as I licked and sucked at the head.

"Whoa!" he pulled it out of my mouth. "I still need to fuck you," he lay me flat, ran his hand over my little blonde vaggie, "wet," he said, and bent to lick me a little more-and then, taking his cock in his hand, he guided it in. It barely went it was so thick, but he moved slowly and carefully so as not to hurt me. When it became apparent that I was enjoying the feel of his cock, he went faster and faster, until-he spent, inside me. And I contracted around him for a bit, "Is this all right?" I asked.

"Yeah, I love it," he said. "Gummy bear, gimme a bear!"

I popped one in his mouth.

We didn't need the Patron after all.

Go figure.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Where Cap and I Fight

I have sent him away. Partially because I don't want him around any more.

Mostly because we fought.

Over Estaban, of all things.

When we returned from Agnus' house, after Brutus had demolished every last marshmallow, Mal chose to start in on me.

"Were you flirting?"

"Flirting?"

"With Estaban?"

"Estaban!!!? Really? Estban?"

"He kept refilling your drink."

"Cap, he's been refilling my drink ever since he was fourteen. Hovering about. It's what he does, let it be."

"Should you be encouraging him?" His voice had a dangerous tone.

"I'm not encouraging him! He's just being polite."

"He's trying to get you to come back to his room!"

"Oh, now Cap, come on. I've known Agnes and Tom forever-Estaban is their son!"

"Well, he finds you mighty attractive! Or 'muy attractive' -as you like to say."

"So what? That doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything," he huffed. Then he said something in Chinese.

"What did you say?"

He repeated it.

"Well, Mal, come on. I don't happen to know Chinese. Nobody speaks Chinese."

"Well, no. Not HERE!"

"Maybe on the other side of the planet?"

"Mal. Come on."

"No. Gorrammit, I am also tired of reading about your escapades."

"You read? You read my blog?"

"Yes," he said testily,"I read your blog. I know all about R, Brian and sundry others. And I'm tired of it."

"Well, if you must know: it's got nothing to do with you."

He waved me away.

"Fine. Go. It's not like you were ever even really real anyway," I said.

He turned and gave me a look.

And then he was gone.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

R Returns Again

Yes, my darlings, R has been away, as is his wont.

And he will, unfortunately be away for about a year.

This saddens me greatly because if I were to choose ONE, surely it would be R.

He is the embodiment of all fantasy-and when I'm with him I feel connected, as if I belong to him in a meaningful way.

However, I am not one to pine. You know that.

So I wrote this:

Impracticalities

Jealous, the monster

rises, irritable and

sleepy. Born of lust

crystalline fog of

true love conceded, it burns

hot, blood boiling green.

The sickness takes hold

hearts rip fast asundering

outmoded notions

Love has its own ends

biological hot flares

painful unattended

I want you to live

opportunities unmissed

Forgive me for this.

The pull of great love

yet separated, is not

satisfactory.

And yet I long for

your company alone for

days on end. Pretend

we have all the world

and time to spend in a room

give me this, just once.

And let us collude

that jealousy not intrude

and thusly arrange

an agreement. we

can with honor live alone

heart beating for one.

And so, he told me what he wants me to wear (something with cleavage!) and that he would like to watch me eating strawberries. And that he is looking forward to getting my lipstick on his lips. And on his cock.

So without further ado:

He collected me around 2pm. I wore a light summer dress, see thru with sandals. No panties.

My breasts spilled out of my bra and nearly into his waiting hands.

"Hilda," he kissed me as I got into the car.

"Hello, R, darling. I've missed you," I kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip, slipping my tongue into his mouth.

"And I have missed you," he put the car in drive-and we were off!

When we got to the hotel, the hotel that we know so well, we sat in our usual booth.

"Something with pineapple," I told the waiter.

"Strawberries," he said, "bring us a bowl of strawberries. Oh. And stuffed mushrooms," he paused, "and I'll have a Jack and Coke(TM)."

When the waiter returned, I was practically in his lap with my shoes off. R had not yet discovered that I was pantiless.

I took a sip of the drink and ate the pineapple garnish, "Delicious!" I exclaimed.

"You're delicious," he countered, sipping his drink.

We kissed and he put his hand on my bottom.

"Hilda!"

"What?"

He lowered his voice to a whisper, "You're not wearing any panties!"

"Lo se," I said.

He ran his hand up my leg and lightly touched my vulva, and then ran his finger down to my slit.

"You're so wet," he raised his finger to his lips and licked it, "and so good."

"I don't think you're going to quite make it to the elevator," I told him. "So you're going to have to think of dead puppies."

When we had finished eating and drinking we went up to the elevator, R strategically placing his luggage in front of himself. He had tried to think of dead puppies-and failed abysmally.

When we reached the room, he picked me up and carried me over the threshold, along with the luggage.

"R! Put me down," I said.

"I will." He threw me on the bed and began taking off his clothes as if he was afraid they'd disintegrate if he didn't get them off right away. "I want you, so bad," he said, lying down and placing me on top of him.

I leaned down and gave his cock a quick suck. He was ready to go, so I waddled up and got on top of him-and slide dooooown. And then, I began to move up and down and around. But he couldn't take it for very long. He had to be on top. Without missing a beat, he turned me over so that he was on top, his big cock moving in and out of me and then, bam! He came.

He held me fast. For a few minutes, time had stopped.

And then he threw me in the shower, bathed me and brought me back to bed, completely swaddled in towels.

"Now I have to taste you."

And he did. Making me scream, over and over.

And, by this time, he was hard again.

And we fucked until we fell asleep.

It was the middle of the night, and I felt his hands on my breasts. He was running his tongue over them, sucking them and then he ran his hands over my thighs and licked them, until I could stand it no more and he was eating me. And then fucking me.

We did it again in the morning.

I think I love him.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Fiction, fiction, fiction.

All right, my darling fans. I realize that my writing can be very realistic. So much so, that a fan wrote in comment on how horrible it was that David was taking advantage of me. Let me assure you: nothing intergenerational was going on. He's not that much older. Really. He isn't.

PLUS: David and I are purely fictional. And he was very good to me.

Which is more than what I can say about some very REAL boys in the world.

Ergo, I am daring you to suspend your preconceived notions about what is and what isn't.

I am,

Hilda Stinson

Matzah

I had a weird craving the other day, it was for matzah.

For those of you who don't know, matzah is "unleavened" bread that is eaten during the time of Passover.

I'm not Jewish. In fact, I think it's bad enough that I'm BLACK. (It's HARD being a minority, even if you don't look it!)

However, the neighbors across the street WERE Jewish and they would invite us every year to Passover. Which was always delicious. I especially enjoyed the matzah. Which is essentially a bad carb cracker without salt. It tastes particularly good with butter. Yes, one I'd had it at the Shapiro's, I would beg my mother to buy it so I could have it for a snack at home. Sure it made me even fatter. But I didn't care. I was obsessed. I loved it. Matzah, with butter. Lots and lots of butter.

Of course, once she knew what was going on, she put a stop to it. There's only so much butter an adolescent girl SHOULD consume.

And speaking of things one shouldn't consume as a young teen, let me tell you what happened with David, the boy who lived across the street. Lucky my mother never got wind of this! Otherwise she really would have banned matzah from our home!

David was not especially tall, but he was dark and especially well built. His hair was curly, but not a frizzy curly, the GOOD kind of curly, if you know what I mean. Smooth black curls which he plastered across his head with a side part. His eyes were a brilliant green and he would gaze intently at me across the table while his father carved the leg of lamb.

"Hilda," he approached me after dinner while the parents were in the living room gossiping about the neighbors.

"Hi, David," I said nervously. He was a bit older-and very good looking.

"Do you want to see my room?"

"Uh, um. Yeah. Okay."

"Cool," he took my hand and we went into his room.

The bed was a double bed with a dark blue bedspread. The entire room had a nautical theme.

"This is it," he said, pulling me inside and down onto the bed.

"It's nice," I said, my eyes darting around the room, nervously.

"Wanna see something?"

"Uh. Sure, I guess."

"Feel," he took my hand and pressed it up against his trousers.

"David!"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just squeeze it," he put his hand over mine and squeezed. "What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought it was enormous. But I wasn't about to say THAT out loud.

"Hilda?" He pulled me close and kissed me. "Oh yeah. That's it," he said, running his hands over my body.

"David, what are you doing?'

"Shhh. Trust me," he said, unzipping his pants and pulling out his penis. "Touch it."

Gingerly, I touched it. It was so soft! "Wow," I said.

"Here, let me show you," he moved my hand up and down his shaft. "Oh," he moaned, "Oh Hilda," he said.

"It's very big," At this point, I could not refrain from comment anymore.

He laughed a little bit. "Now, Hilda, listen, this is important," he looked deeply into my eyes, "I don't want you to tell anyone what we're doing, can you do that for me?"

"Sure," I said, my hand moving up and down, with his hand over mine.

All of a sudden, he came and a bunch of white stuff came out. "Hand me a tissue, would you Hil?"

I handed him a tissue and he mopped up.

"Okay Hilda, now I want to do something for you. Is that okay?"

"I guess so," I was doubtful.

"Here, let me kiss you," he put his mouth on mine and we made out for a bit. "Hilda, feel that," he was hard again. "I'm going to help you climax."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, you'll see," he said and he took off my top. I was not wearing a bra because I had not yet reached the point to where it was strictly necessary. "Oh, these are very pretty, Hilda, lie back."

I lay back and he ran his hands over my little boobies. It felt very good. Then he put his mouth on my nipples and began to suck one, while he was touching the other.

Then, he ran his mouth over my stomach and he started to take off my jeans. And then, my undies came off. "Flowers," he said, "cute."

And then, he was licking the inside of my thighs and up around my vulva and my outer lips. And then the inner. And then: he was licking my clit. Back and forth and back and forth, until I could take it no more and I felt this incredible sensation-and I orgasmed. "Oh, David," I said. "David, I love you, David," I gushed.

Then he kissed me and I could taste myself on him. And I liked it.

"Hilda, I want to ask you something."

"What?"

"When did you last have your period?"

"Period. Um. Last week."

"Shit. Okay." He reached into his bedside drawer and took out a condom. He put it on quickly and then took my hand. "How does it feel?"

"It feels hard. Nice."

"Okay. This might hurt a bit, can you keep quiet?"

I nodded.

He carefully guided his penis into me. Except, it wouldn't go. It wouldn't go.

"David, stop it. It hurts."

"Hilda, just a minute," he knelt down and began licking at me again, until I was so turned on that the only thing I wanted was him. "Okay, let's try this again." I was very very wet. And he pushed. And then: bam! He was in. And then he moved in and out of me. It hurt, but it felt good. And he came quickly. "Oh Hilda!!!"

After that, he went back to college.

And I? Back to school. No one was the wiser.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson