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

Misery and KFC

I am a holy terror.

I know with abject certainty that I am hijacked by PMDD-and there is nothing I can do but wallow in the misery that descends upon me like a black cloud filled with coal dust.

Everything is wrong.

Nothing is right.

And today, at KFC, the chicken was RUBBERY! And too salty. The mac 'n' cheese tasted plasticky and the only saving grace was the Pepsi(TM) is it Max? I'm not sure. It's a zero calorie beverage and it was terrifically refreshing.

I have more to say on this subject, on how horrible I am, except that the storm has passed.

And my time is upon me.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Revisiting Brutus: The S'more Whore

It was with great delight that the invitation to Agnes' barbecue was received. This time Mal could come with.

I dressed him casually in chino slacks and a polo shirt. I wore a pink dress that was belted at the waist and flared out. We looked like we'd stepped out of an issue of Life, circa 1955.

When we arrived, I could hear the barking.

"That's Brutus. Watch out for Brutus. He'll try to take your shirt off," I said.

"Oh, now, I don't think so," the Captain said, looking indignant. "There 'ent an animal alive I couldn't tame."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "All righty then."

Estaban opened the door, and his face lit right up, until he saw the Captain.

"Oh. You've brought Captain Reynolds with you," he said dully.

"Yes, Estaban, where's your mom?"

"Come on back, everyone is on the patio."

We went out through the double glass doors and onto the patio.

"Hilda!" Agnes rushed over and gave me a hug. "I see you've brought Mal! So nice to finally meet you," she extended her hand and Mal shook it dutifully, "I've seen your stereo-and it did not do you justice."

"Thank you. I surely do appreciate the invite."

We cracked up.

"Oh now, no need to be so formal," Agnes said, "here, have a drink," she pressed drinks into our hands.

I drank. "Wow, that's good, try it Mal."

He gave it a sip. "Whoa. That's one powerful pineapple!"

"Yes. It IS delicious, isn't it?" Agnes smiled.

Tom, Agnes' husband manned the grill. There were hot dogs, hamburgers and brats. On the table nearby there were sliced red onions, tomatoes and lettuce. I was ready. I got a burger, no bun, with lots of onion and a side of potato salad. It was beyond yummy.

Cap ate a little bit of everything and drank quite a bit of beer. I had no idea that he liked beer so much, but I suppose when you come from a place where there 'ent any, you try and make up for it.

The dessert? Yellow cake with chocolate icing. Now, as most of you know, I like a white or a mint with CHOCOLATE cake. But I tried this. It was sublime, but I only had a small piece.

Of course, what kind of barbecue would it be without s'mores? Tom went into the house to get the marshmallows when suddenly there was a great commotion in the house. Estaban had also gone in to make a phone call and when he came out, Brutus bounded out with great aplomb. He approached, jumped up on me, and proceeded to renew our friendship as dog and chicken.

"Down, down boy," Agnes called helplessly.

But it was the Captain who saved the day. He went over to Brutus, removed him from me and said solemnly, "DOWN."

Brutus lay down and put his paws over his muzzle, whining.

"Now go!"

Brutus skulked off into the house.

"Wow, Mal, that was great," Agnes said. "You've got to tell me sometime how you did it."

"It's just a little way I have about me," he said, not so modestly.

I grinned. "Yup, it's just how he is."

"Anybody want some s'mores?" Tom brought out the marshmallows, which we roasted and then ate with chocolate squares between two graham crackers. Profoundly delicious.

Mal and I were on our third one when again, Brutus escaped, knocked me down and ate the s'more right out of my hand. He then turned to Mal, went up to him and clean ate his s'more, right out of his hand.

"It's okay," he assured Agnes. "it was a mighty fine barbecue," he turned to Brutus "s'more whore," he patted the dog on the head.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Dinner at Black Angus(TM)

The Captain is, as most of you know, from a different universe, so unfortunately, in this one, no one can see him. This makes it particularly difficult to go out to dinner.

However, his actor, Nathan, was in town for Comic Con and he stayed on a bit longer to help out the Captain and me. In short, he lent us his body. Or, well, he tried. Or shall I say, made an effort? Of sorts.

"What is this tiny little thing?" he said.

"That is an Adidas(TM) sock. Feel it."

"Soft. And tiny," he teased me.

"Yes," I ignored the dig, "but not to be confused with OTHER Adidas(TM) socks, like this one," I held up a white one with pink striping, it was cotton, but not made from Coolmax(TM) and nowhere near as soft. "Can you feel the difference?"

"I can."

"So you can see how important it is that I get more Adidas(TM) socks."

He grinned. "You're a funny girl. The Captain said you were sexy, but he never said you were funny."

"Well, I am."

"You know, I might not let him have the bod. I'd kind of like to go out with you."

"Oh really? Even though I don't have red hair?"

"Even so," he insisted. "How did you know I like red hair?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you ever think about coloring it red? I bet it'd be GORGEOUS!"

"Yeah. All the time," I dead panned. "Natural blonde. I'm good."

He shrugged.

"Are you ready to let the Captain take over?"

He sighed.

"Come on, Nathan, deal's a deal."

"All right."

"And, oh yeah, we're going to have to use your wallet too."

He laughed. "That's fine, I don't mind. But I want a crack at you after he leaves."

"We'll see, no promises," I said.

And then: silence. His eyes rolled back in his head, and then, the Captain was standing in front of me.

"He didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

"Naw. But I don't think he quite got my obsession with Adidas(TM) socks."

"Hilda, I don't even know what those are."

I showed him.

"Good socks. Very shiny, can we go now?"

"All right," I said.

We went outside and got into Nathan's car, which he made me promise not to let the Captain drive.

"Gorram it, I want to drive!"

"Chill. You do NOT have a license."

"No, but Nathan does."

"You're not Nathan, you don't know how to drive one of these and that's that. There's a reason you have a pilot on your ship, is there not?"

He pouted.

When we got to the restaurant, dusk was beginning to fall. We parked, got out and went inside.

"Two?" The hostess seated us quickly.

"This is quite nice," he said, giving me a kiss.

"Yes, I thought you'd like it. What with the high booths."

We ordered the dinner special: ribs, steak and shrimp on one platter.

The salad? Eh. It was okay. Nothing special. What I like to call a "lazy salad". Lettuce, one tomato and one cucumber, covered with nasty croutons. Which are okay if you pick them off and eat them individually. It's when you try to eat them with a salad that they taste kind of gross.

The ribs were divine. The BBQ sauce was smoky and sweet, absolutely perfect and the meat just fell off the bone. The steak? Absolute perfection. But the shrimp? Well, it was mediocre at best.

For dessert we ordered chocolate lava cake, which we shared. And there was decaf, black of course.

But the best part was between courses.

We kissed and licked at each other's mouths, hands fondling until the next course would arrive.

After dessert, the Captain took me home (actually I let him revert back to Nathan so he could drive. I was a bit tipsy from the wine!) and laid me on the bed.

"Shiny!" he exclaimed, removing my dress and gazing upon my new lingerie set, a lacy cream and red bra and panty set, with bows on the shoulders and hips.

"Uh..Mal?"

He didn't say anything.

"Nathan?!"

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying!"

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Black Angus(TM)

As most of you know, the only thing black about me, besides my soul, is my heritage. And I look really good in black too, actually, if you think about it: particularly black lingerie, but this column is about Black Angus(TM), or more specifically the ads that they send out in the mail.

Usually I am inured to ads. Although, sometimes, I confess, I do fall prey to Jack in the Box(TM) coupons sometimes. There's one in the neighborhood and sometimes I'm just HUNGRY. But enough about them, I want to discuss the new Black Angus(TM) ad, it read: "Steak, Ribs & Grilled Prawns"-and there was a picture too, with corn on the cob, green beans and a small triangle of watermelon. In the background, there was a roll with oats on the top of it. It made me want butter. You know, frozen and then let it melt in my mouth? And all of this was only 15.99-and it wasn't like the "dinner for two", you could go by yourself and get it. I liked the idea of that. Except, to be fair, it would be a waste of a private booth.

Let me explain: for those of you who have never been to Black Angus(TM), let me describe the place in terms of sexual opportunity-high booths. That's right, the booths are very high and it makes dining VAR VAR private. So, it's kind of a waste to come by yourself.

So, for your reading pleasure, I now, proudly present: Dinner at Black Angus..

Next column.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Fan Mail

My darling fans, every so often I deviate. Isn't that the point?

I got a complaint that my last KFC entry was "ghetto porn"-but that the following column was perfectly fine. Well all right, but if we can't be ghetto, then what else is off limits?

Space is not off limits. We know this because the Captain comes FROM, ergo not off limits.

Work IS off limits. Who needs a lawsuit? (Unless it's YOUR work)

So let's hear it, my darling fans. Where shall I wander next? What adventures shall I embark upon?

And last, yes, I will be accepting gifts of Adidas(TM) socks. The kind made from CoolMax(TM). I believe they carry them in the Adidas(TM) store in San Fran. And while you're there, eat some steak tartare for me. And let me know how truly divine it is!

But no flowers, because they die, unlike all of you, who are not allowed to.

I mean it.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Jamba Juice(TM)

It was a fine summer morning when he called for me.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"I'm parked in the red zone in front of your house, come on down."

I slipped out of my indoor sandals into my outdoor sandals, grabbed my purse and carefully walked down the stairs.

"Hey, sweetie," I said, kissing him. He had gotten out of the car to open the door for me. Which I thought was perfectly divine!

"Hello." He pushed his tongue into my mouth and guided me into the car seat. He closed the door and walked around to the other side. He got in and kissed me again.

We drove down the street to Jamba Juice(TM) where I ordered something berry-esque, but without corn syrup-cos you KNOW they use it, and he ordered an orange banana with a protein boost. I tasted both. I preferred mine: a berry blast. Mostly strawberries.

When we got our bevvies, we went right back to the car and he drove back to the ally behind my house.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"I am," he unzipped his flight suit.

"Undies? Really, undies?" I went to work releasing his cock from the boxer shorts he was wearing. "Hello," I gave it a lick and a suck. He inhaled deeply and took a pull on his smoothie. He put it down in the cup holder, adjusted his seat back and gave me free access to his his beautiful bod.

I got on top of him and kissed him deeply. Running my hands over his nipples, they quickly became erect so that I had to take each nipple in my mouth, gently sucking and licking each one until I could feel his hard cock poking into my leg. "All right," I said and squatting down into the cockpit I put my mouth around his cock and then slid it down to the base, slowly. I then picked up speed, and bobbed up and down as I fondled his balls through the boxer shorts. The head of his cock was exquisite and I could hardly help myself from giving it extra little licks and sucks as I would get to the top portion. I particularly spend a good deal of time, sucking on his frenulum and then moving it in and out of my mouth until finally: he spent. I swallowed and then took a pull from the smoothie. "Mmm, fruity!"

He kissed me. "Very tasty."

"And the smoothie's good too."

"Yah."

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

The Chicken and the Egg

I lay on his bed, reading The New Yorker when he came in bearing a box from the sacred temple. Meaning? KFC. Yeah. We were about to get it on, chicken style.

He set the box on the night stand and whipped back the covers.

"What are you wearing?"

"Jammies," I said.

"Well, THOSE are gon' hafta come off," he beckoned toward me and pulled off my jammy top. "Now the bottoms," he gave me a look, "undies? Really? Undies?"

"Fine, I'll remove them."

"You do that."

"Are you going to get undressed?"

He smiled. "Maybe. When I'm ready, " he kissed me passionately and then put me on my stomach. "Lie still," he said.

I could hear the box opening. I looked up. He had a chicken finger in his hand and was opening the honey mustard sauce. He dipped it in the sauce and then took the finger, now coated in honey mustard sauce and dredged it across my ass. He took a bite of the chicken, and then he licked the sauce off my bottom. He then dipped the chicken in the sauce and repeated, until he had finished the piece.

"That smells so good," I said.

"All right, turn over," he said. He took a chicken finger, dipped it in the sauce and then ran it over my nipples. Then he handed it to me to eat as he suckled the sauce off me.

"Oh, now that's finger licking good," I remarked.

"Indeedy," he concurred. "But enough chicken, I want to eat you." He ran his tongue down my belly and over the insides of my thighs, licking around and and around, but not quite getting to my clit, until finally when I could stand it no more, I felt his hot breath and then his tongue, moving quickly and lightly back and forth on my clit. "Oh, you taste so good," he said.

When I came, he took out his penis and brought it to my mouth-I sucked on it greedily until he finally whispered, "I just want to be inside you," and so he entered me. He fucked me perfectly and kissed me deeply, his tongue expertly moving inside my mouth. When he came, I could feel his cock shuddering with pleasure; loud guttural sounds came from deep in his throat and I knew I had pleased him.

"Come with me," he took me by the hand and into the kitchen.

Oddly enough, there was a massage table right smack in the middle of the kitchen.

"Lie down," he ordered.

I lay down on the white sheets, his semen dripping out of me.

He opened the refrigerator and took out an egg. He cracked it and opened it up on my back. He then quickly sucked up the entire egg and then, he took a pull from the Patron(TM) that was sitting on the counter. "Hmm, yummy!" He ran his hand over my ass and then licked it, spreading my legs as he licked up the semen that was running out of me. "Turn over," he said hoarsely. He then began sucking upon my belly as he ran his hands over my inner thighs, and then he was again, licking at my little blonde vaggie until again, I came. "Are you ready for act two?" he finally removed all his clothes, climbed up on the table and fucked me again, and this time when he came, he came all over my belly.

He licked me clean. And then, he made me come again.

I lay on the table in a stupor of pleasure as he walked out of the room. He returned with the KFC box. "Another chicken finger?"

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Maeve Binchy, et al.

I have begun reading an anthology of Irish women writers. Some are British, but the gist of the entire book seems to be focused in on the single middle aged woman and how sad and pathetic she is because she's single.

Well, I'm sorry, but there are those of us out there who do NOT pine and die of loneliness and weep and cry because we don't have a man.

Life is just too short. If a man isn't interested he can take his business elsewhere-and who cares?

To bother with whining and crying because some man has let you down, or because you never married is stupid and idiotic.

As I have maintained, and will still maintain, marriage is a financial arrangement. And if you want to marry ME, you'd better have your ducks in order and be ready to IMPROVE my financial situation. And if not? Why would I marry you? So you can ruin my credit? Think again!

As for LOOOVE? It doesn't exist. It is like Santa, the Easter Bunny and justice. It 'ent out there.

But thanks for playing.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Haagen-Dazs Rum Raisin

ice cream shocked me.

I only took a spoonful, but it tasted like rum. A lot like rum. RUUUUUM.

And skim milk.

Sure enough, I checked the ingredients: skim milk.

Whaddya know? They put skim milk in their premium ice cream.

For what? And why?

I'm baffled.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

DWB

I happened to be driving in one of the more posh areas of the city, when I was pulled over. DWB. All right. I can't imagine that I really look black to these people, but who knows?

"License and registration," he wore the full uniform, and oddly enough, was sans partner.

I handed it all over and I looked him over. He was cute.

"Here you go," I handed it over to him.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he said, turning to go back to his car, presumably to be absolutely certain that I wasn't wanted meth addict, out for a leisurely drive.

He came back and handed it all back to me. "Do you know why I stopped you?"

I shrugged. "Because I'm black" would not have been the right answer, so I simply said, "I don't know."

He gave me a long look. "Don't you remember me?"

I burst out laughing! It was my old friend Tommy J! "And I thought it was a DWB."

"Oh Hilda! You're not black!"

"I am."

"All right, if you say so," he paused a minute, "Wait. Oh yeah. I forgot."

"People always do. So, you're doing this."

"Yah. Man it's good to see you, you know we never did get around to-"

"Right, we never did."

"You were so cute back then. So tiny!"

"Well, I've grown a little bit." It was true, since high school I had grown two inches taller, freak of nature that I am.

"Have you? Step out."

I did. And he towered over me, like he always had.

"You're still tiny!"

I blushed.

"And, still as cute as ever."

"Aw," I said.

"So, you know, my place is a few streets over, wanna see the house?"

"I would. Shall I follow you over?"

"Well, you could. But I have a better idea." He held up his handcuffs.

"All right, let me park the car properly," I said.

When I had parked, he came over to me and told me, "Put your hands up," I did.

Then he patted me down, and then he ran his hand up my bare leg, briefly pausing and looking around he put his mouth to my inner thigh and ran it down to my ankle. He cuffed me and put me in the back of his car.

Silence.

In a few moments, we were at his place and he drove right into the garage and then took me out.

He uncuffed me, picked me up and carried me, fireman style into the house. "Nice house," I said.

"Yeah, the 90's were a good time. Lucky for me I got out in time." He put me down on the kitchen counter. "I like this dress," he said.

"Thank you, you look really hot in your uniform," I told him. "Will you take off your gun belt?"

"Oh yeah. Sure, of course." he took it off and put it in the closet.

"Now I can ravish you!" I said and kissed him square on the mouth, my hands fondling his ears.

"Oh, Hilda!" He picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. Setting me gently down on the bed, he began to undress. I watched him unbutton his shirt, which he put right in the laundry hamper and then he took off his t-shirt. Underneath was the result of 20 years of hard graft in the gym.

"You've been working out." The last time I'd seen his chest it had been woefully underdeveloped.

"You have too," he squeezed my bottom.

"Yeah. It's really firm," I said.

"Yeah, it is."

"Lo se!"

"Lie down, I want to give you a massage."

"Ooh. A massage!"

"You might want to take off your dress, here, let me hang it up," he pulled it off me, revealing a very sexy bra and panty set, which had recently been purchased at Intimacy in the mall. The bra was cream colored with raspberry colored bows-and the bikini panties were made of cream lace, also with raspberry colored bows. "Ooh. Pretty," he said.

"Thank you."

"But they will have to come off. Lie down," he instructed. Carefully he removed the bra and then the panties, which he set on his night stand. Then he began the massage. His hands were warm and very very strong. I had no idea how strong he was.

"Oh, Tommy," I moaned.

"You have a beautiful body," he whispered reverently, the massage, focusing in on my bottom.

"You like my bottom, don't you?"

"It's so perfectly shaped." He continued to massage, wearing only his pants. And then he turned me over. Gently he ran his hands over my breasts and down my stomach-and then, I felt his tongue in my mouth and then his mouth on my nipples. And then he turned me over again. He went back to my bottom-but then, I could feel his tongue right at the top of my ass crack, licking all the way down, until I raised up onto my knees to give him better access. He finally just turned me over and kept kissing me, licking and sucking until finally I came.

I felt for his cock, which was, as I lay on my back, still trapped inside his trousers. I felt for his belt, but found myself unable to do anything. Seeing my impotence, he took it upon himself to unbuckle and unzip until finally, I had his beautiful cock in my mouth.

"Oh yeah," he said as I sucked.

"Your cock is just gorgeous," I said.

"You're just gorgeous, now suck it!" he said.

And I did. Up and down, my hands and mouth working in tandem, his cock getting harder and hard with each suck, he moaned with pleasure.

"Oh, Hilda," he moaned, "I want you, I want to be inside you," so he removed his cock from my mouth and brought it down to my little blonde vaggie and pushed.

"Oh. Oh! God, Tommy, you're so big," I felt him enter and then the fucking began in earnest.

After a bit, he turned me over. "I don't know about this," I said.

"Please."

"All right," I allowed him to enter me from behind. "Gently!" I admonished him.

He could only go for so long when he exited and came all over my ass. "Hilda, oh Hilda," he cried.

"Thank you, Tommy," I said. "That was the best DWB experience EVER!"

"Oh Hilda!" was all he could say.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

R Returns (cont.)

We took the elevator up to the second floor to our room.

We had very little baggage, but what we had, we each carried.

"Here it is," he inserted the card into the door.

"Yay!" I bounced into the room and lay on the bed, setting my bag beside me.

R was a bit more sedate and entered, laid his bag on the first bed and opened it.

"Oh goody!"

He removed a small box, which was beautifully wrapped.

"OH!" Inside was a tiny four pack of Godiva(TM) chocolates.

He grinned.

"How did you know?"

"Well, I figured, you love chocolate, so of course, I mean, I didn't have much time to shop, so I picked these up at the airport."

"Oh. The airport. Fancy." I laughed and kissed him.

He picked me up and took me over to the other bed, "Less stuff on here," he put me down and again, we kissed.

I was wearing a see thru scanty dress, with no panties. When he lay me on my stomach, he went to take it off and I could see that he was stunned. "Nice bottom," he rubbed it and gave it a wee slap. He ran his hand up my back to my bra clasp and undid it. I wiggled out of it. And then lay on my back, while he gazed at me. "I just want to look at you for a moment," he lay his hand on my stomach and ran his eyes over me. "Luscious," he said and then he kissed me.

He removed his shirt, and then his pants. He left on his boxers. And then he began to ravish me. He began at the top, sucking on my earlobes, briefly-and then he made his way down my neck. "Beautiful," he murmured as he cupped my left breast and then the right one, he brushed his fingers lightly over both nipples back and forth-and then he began to lick each one, slowly, carefully and with great restraint.

I could feel his erection through the boxers, I rubbed my hand up against it, "accidentally" and was shocked at the sheer size of him. He continued his tour down my body, his hand on my stomach, and then his mouth dropping lower and lower, until he was stroking my inner thighs, up and down, again and again, until I could bear it no more.

"Oh, I want you," I said.

"Oh, you shall have, you shall have," he said, "but right now I'm going to make you come first,"

"Otherwise, that's not gon' go, is it?" I said, briefly touching his mammoth erection.

"Oh," he smiled wickedly, "it will go, but not right yet, I have to taste you."

And he ran his hand over my pudenda and then I could feel the hot breath of his mouth-and then his tongue, circling around my clit and then, as he could feel my excitement grow, he ran it back and forth, east to west, his hands on my bottom, one finger daring to enter, moving in and out he finally brought me to a screaming climax, at which point, he drew his sword and entered mightily.

He started slowly and then began to pick up speed, faster and faster he fucked me, until finally, he spent. I gave him a squeeze as he exited and then we rushed to bathe.

Post bath, back on the bed, I unwrapped a chocolate, bit it in half and then straddled him. I put one half on one nipple and one on the other. I began at the top and I kissed him again and again, making certain that he didn't move, that he did not dislodge the strategically placed chocolate.

I sucked briefly on his earlobes and then bit them carefully. Then I went over to each nipple, removed the chocolate, sucked the nipple and replaced the chocolate. And then, I wandered down his body and I asked, "May I?"

He nodded.

I took his penis in my mouth, it was not quite hard yet, but with a little diligent effort, I managed to get it very hard. I drew it in and out of my mouth, my hands working up and down in rhythm with my mouth. I tongued his frenulum and then worked my way to the very bottom and gently sucked each ball. "Don't move," I told him. The chocolate remained perched on his nipples, just waiting for me to eat it. I continued to suck him until after a bit, he could hold off no longer and he came, spurting all over me and himself, as I held him in my hands, I ate the chocolate off his nipples.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

R Returns

The Hilton(TM) has a grand tradition of hospitality and I would be remiss if I were not to give them credit, at least some credit for what transpired on a rainy Saturday, a week from Saturday next.

He collected me in the red Corvette and we went back to that hotel, that we knew so well, where the martinis were dirty, but we were dirtier.

"How was DC?" I asked.

"It was boring," he said. "I missed you."

"Really?"

"I did. All I thought about was tearing your little legs apart and having my way with you."

"So graphic, my darling."

"And then having you on top of me."

"Well, I must confess, I did have a few thought about climbing you, inch by inch."

"Like a tree."

"Yes. Like a tree."

We laughed.

The Hilton was exactly as I remembered, still covered in wood paneling that somehow, managed to not be tacky.

"We'll both have a dirty martini," R ordered for us both, "with extra olives."

When the waiter brought the drinks, I had sprawled out in the booth, my legs on top of his. Quickly, I straightened up and put my feet on the floor, ready to drink. Again the drinks were profoundly delicious, and I appreciated that R had ordered extra olives!

"You did get us a room?"

"Of course, and I have a surprise for you."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"When we get to the room," he said, drinking his martini down quickly.

"In a hurry?" I laughed and dawdled with my drink.

"Are you going to finished that?"

"Hmm. Eventually."

He laughed. "All right, it's just a little something I brought back from DC, no big deal."

"Oh. Something little. Perfume? Chocolates? Promises you don't intend to keep?"

"That's from," he pauses. "wait, I know this one," he snapped his fingers, "Beauty and the Beast". You're so funny."

"Lucky you have a child, otherwise, you never would have got that!"

"Indeed. Finish your drink, Hilda."

I gazed deeply into his eyes. And sucked it down. Most of it. "I can't finish it," I confessed.

"Here, allow me."

At which point the waiter appeared, inquiring if we would like another.

"Naw. Just put it on my room tab," R signed the check and we were off.

(to be continued)

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Gone Vegan

For the past two days, I have gone vegan because I have been advised to go on a liver cleanse.

Nothing exciting has transpired food wise, save this: Tandoor Chef(TM) Vegetable Pad Thai.

It transcended all heights of deliciousness. The pasta, a rice pasta (which is a delight because let's face it, wheat pasta is such a no no) was covered in a peanut sauce and surrounded by tender little vegetables. I especially enjoyed the mini corn. I served it with Mormon champagne (Martinelli's Sparkling Cider(TM))-profoundly delicious.

Truthfully, I had mostly forgotten to eat yesterday. By 9pm, I realized that my entire caloric intake for the day had been less than 800, so I reckoned I had best eat something substantial because when I go into a caloric deficit, it is no joke.

There are bars out there that are supposed to help, but truthfully, I forget to buy them for emergencies. And even if I remembered to buy them, I would probably forget where I stashed them. And I can't imagine that they'd be vegan anyway.

In other news: Intimacy is having a sale on Kensington by Prima Donna. I know, it sounds unbearably pretentious, but the bra in the email was so pretty. I wanted to rush right down there and see if I would wear a 34E or a 32F-and of course, check for matching panties. I do love matching panties. In fact, if I could wander around all day wearing nothing but matching lingerie, I would do it. But I can't imagine any job that would allow that-save Playboy Bunny-and even they wear clothes sometimes. I know this with an abject certainly because I've seen House Bunny. But of course, I jest. I like to wear clothes SOMETIMES.

Yesterday I set sail wearing the most adorable raspberry shorts and my book club t-shirt-which is black. And lovlies? Black hides a whole host of sins. My bottom looked positively bubble-licious, thanks to the Sketcher's Shape Ups(TM). I have never seen such great results with my bottom (which, as you know, tends toward the flat side) with anything else ever before. The Shape Ups have made me a believer! And while it appears bigger and more shapely, I still fit very nicely into the smaller sizes of panty. Sometimes it's xtra small, like Vic's. God bless Vic's. And other times, a plain old small, like in my fancy British lingerie.

It's odd that we must turn to the British for bras that fit, probably because they aren't as fatly as we are. Here it's impossible to get larger cup sizes in smaller sizes (save specialty stores) because manufacturers assume that if you're more than a D you must be at least a 36. Playtex(TM) would rather die, I imagine, than manufacture a 32DDD.

The thing is though: we are the land of breast implants. So Playtex(TM) is really shooting itself in the foot on this. I find the idea of undergoing surgery repugnant, but there are thousands of women who seem to think that having larger breasts automatically makes them hotter and sexier. What I believe is that if you THINK you're hot and sexy-you are, so if you really think you need them, go ahead. But I would first try to imagine that you're hot and sexy WITHOUT them. Surgery is SO drastic.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Trent Speaks

It was with the greatest astonishment that I found myself in the shower this morning, nose to nose with Trent Lane.

"I read your blog," he said.

"Oh. Uh, lovely," I said, as I exfoliated my derriere to make it smooth and kissable.

"I'm not 19," he said.

"You're not?"

"I'm 22."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Hmm, yeah. That would make more sense, wouldn't it?"

"Right. If I were 19, I wouldn't be too old to take Daria out, but-"

"22," I interrupted. "I get it. Right. Okay. Fine. I'll be 19, you can be 22."

"You can be whatever you want, Hilda," he said.

Then he disappeared, leaving me to ponder the mystery that cartoons are. That a cartoon IS, if you will. At the very least, why it was so that I found myself having conversations with one.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Champagne Grapes

were dribbled lightly upon my back, waking me up.

"Don't. Move," The Captain lay his hand on my head.

I didn't.

He put his mouth on me, sucking in a tiny grape and then he continued, working his way down my back until he had inhaled all the tiny little champagne grapes he had placed. He ran his hand over the base of my spine and then, further down, he traced the line of bottom with his hands, the top portion with his tongue, and then, he raised me up on my knees, licking me from underneath, he finally threw me on my back, and rubbed his mighty erection against me.

"Are you ready?" he asked. And then, to be sure, he kneeled before me and began to lick me, making certain that I was.

"Yes," I said.

"Shiny," he began to fuck me, his hand holding my wrists.

"Mal, Mal," I moaned as he drove deeper and deeper inside me. Over and over he continued to thrust into me, with each stroke the pleasure got more and more intense.

"Hilda, Gorram it, Hilda, It's time," he spent and briefly collapsed on top of me. And then, to be sure, he administered to me orally, expertly, really.

I surely do love my Captain.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

The Fruit Basket

It is July-and I sit, freshly bathed, my hair up wearing only black ruched panties from Vic's.

Because it has been so hot, I have turned my lusts away from the usual baked goods. Of course, I am still hopelessly in love with anything even vaguely resembling a cupcake, especially a chocolate one with white icing. Or a HUGE mint head of frosting. I believe that you, my dear readers are entirely cognizant of that, lo se!

Here it is: A giant watermelon basket that is as big as a bathtub has been carved, especially for me. My feet santized, I step onto a glass elevator that is only a square of glass. It lifts me up and over to where I can step into the basket. The air is super hot and the sky is dark, save for a million stars.

The basket is filled with tiny balls of watermelon, honeydew melon, red seedless grapes, white seedless grapes and kiwi slices. I lie down in the sea of fruit, wiggling my bottom so that I can get comfortable. Ah, that's it! And I eat the luscious and cool fruits. The watermelon is crisp and juicy and the juice fills my mouth. I swallow and bite into a white grape, the firmness of the grape and the cool juice it provides is refreshing and sweet. The cantaloupe is almost too sweet, like the red grapes that practically burst with chi. Last, are the kiwi slices. Firm and juicy, I plaster the kiwi onto my bare breasts- only to have Captain Reynolds appear on the glass elevator.

"Hilda," he steps into the basket.

"Captain," I give him a kiss.

He cups my left breast and eats the kiwi covering it. "Those are too fine to be covered." He then takes the kiwi off the right breast, brings it to my mouth and feeds it to me with his mouth. Then we kiss, deeply.

He runs his hands over my bottom and his mouth over my stomach. "Have a grape, that's what those are, right?" he picks up a red one and pops it into my mouth."

"Don't they have grapes in your century?"

He laughs. "Maybe, but I've only heard about them. This is the first I've ever seen them."

"What about watermelon?" I pop a ball in his mouth

"Oh yeah. But we call it Pinksweet, grows abundantly on some planets." He picks up a ball of watermelon and places it on my stomach and then eats it. "Your skin makes for a right fine plate, my Hilda."

He then rolls in next to me so that we are both on our backs, staring up at the starry sky. I cuddle in next to him, the coolness of the fruit is refreshing next to the heat of the air. I reach down and pick up a ball of watermelon and pop it in my mouth and then I give the Captain more grapes. He seems to like them.

We lie in silence looking up at the stars. The air is hot and heavy with the scent of the fruit.

"I'm drowsy," I tell him.

"Let's go," he pulls me up and we step, naked onto the glass elevator and then we are in a cool bath-and finally, back at manor, where we occasionally like to stay.

The sheets are cool and we gratefully slide in and go to sleep.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Trent Lane: Cartoon Hottie

Being a fictional character makes it possible for me to go in to worlds and break fourth walls like they've never been broken before.

Who is Trent Lane? He is the older brother of Jane Lane, best friend of Daria Morgendorffer, of the mid to late-90's MTV series Daria.

I have been lusting in my heart for that boy, god knows why, but part of it might be his voice. So slow and sensual. God only knows: he's no Kevin (the popular "good looking" boy on the show)-Trent is the heartthrob of Daria, herself, who is, despite being freakishly "unpopular" is her own person and proud to be the braniac that she is.

Okay. That's the background. Or, if you like, where you can find it and watch it. Netflix. Where else?

But what you won't find in the series is the time when I managed to break into their little world, or rather, float in, like a bubble and have myself a right fine good time with Trent Lane, cartoon hottie.

Trent lay on his bed sleeping. He was not in school, nor was he employed. One might say he was "between gigs". At the tender age of 19, he still had not yet moved out of the ancestral home. He was awakened by the phone, which rang a total of ten times, finally when he got up the gumption to actually answer it, it stopped. Ah. Blessed silence. He fell back on his pillows and resumed dreaming.

In this particular dream, I appear. I am dressed like a genie, my platinum blonde hair sits up high on my head in a ponytail. And in this dream, I am also 19.

"Hello Trent," I sidle up to his bed and sit on the edge.

"Am I still asleep? Or is this a dream?" he raises an eyebrow at me.

"That depends. What do you want it to be?" I straddle him. "Shh." I kiss him, slowly and sensuously.

He opens his mouth a bit and kisses me expertly. He pulls me down beside him and he flips on top of me. "Now who's dreaming? What's your name, sugar pants?"

"Hilda."

"Hilda," he rolls my name around on his tongue and then says, "You're sexy," and then he resumes kissing me. "I like this outfit," he pulls the vest off. "Now I like it even more."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

"Oh man! Me too!" He gets up, grabs my hand and we go into the kitchen.

I sit, and begin eating cherries out of a bowl. "This is all right, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, man, it's totally cool," he bites into a cherry and deposits the pit on a napkin on the counter.

"So what have we got?"

"Well, usually we don't have anything, but Mrs. Morgendorffer had a client dinner that didn't go so well, and they didn't have enough room in the fridge, so she gave all this stuff to Janey when she was over."

"Wow." I remarked, examining the contents of the fridge.

"Yeah. It's pig out city."

"Look! Salads already plated!"

"Oh yeah. And Mr. Morgendorffer made three kinds of dressing," he poked into the back of the refrigerator, "but I would stick with the bottled kind."

"Really?"

"Really."

I shrugged, "suit yourself. I'm going to try at least two of Mr. Morgendorffer's!"

The Morgendorffer dressing was quite good, but Trent still refused to eat it. Go figure.

After the salad, we poked around some more and found two tiny filets that hadn't even been grilled yet, so Trent improvised and cooked them over the flame of the gas stove. We ate them, barely cooked, with our fingers, stopping only to salt the bites of meat.

"Here," I carefully salted and then fed him a bite.

"Here, yourself, sugar pants," he returned the favor.

"That was delicious," I said.

"It was," he licked my fingers, sucking on each one gently.

"Let's take this upstairs," I said.

"I'm with you," he took me by the hand. "Wait a minute," he poked in the fridge for a moment and came up with a bottle of cheap pink champagne, "they'll never miss this!" he giggled.

Up we went, back to his horribly messy room. He uncorked the champagne and poured it on his belly; obligingly, I licked it off.

"Now, it's my turn," he pushed me gently onto the bed and poured champagne into my navel. Making a loud sucking sound, he slurped it up and then he went to work on my little harem pants. "These are nice. But they have to come off," so he removed them. He inhaled sharply, "Oh Hilda," he said, pouring champagne onto my vulva. He quickly drank what he poured and then, setting the bottle aside, he announced, "I'm going to make you come. With my tongue. He stuck it out, displaying a tongue ring."

"I've never been with someone with a tongue ring before," I said.

"Shh. You'll kill the mood," he removed the bra top, quickly and efficiently. I began to wonder if he had done this before.

He ran his slender fingers gently over my breasts. Slowly and surely, my nipples became erect and he stroked them. And then? The hotness of his mouth licking and sucking at each breast. "I think we need some more champagne, " he said, pouring them over each nipple and drinking deep of the champagne. "Mmm, your body is so nice, so soft, so delicious," he poured more champagne on my navel. "Oh. That hits the spot," he continued down lower until he was licking and sucking at my clitoris, back and forth until I was almost ready to-he poured on more champagne and drank greedily and the licking continued back and forth until finally, I sang with ecstasy. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he unbuckled his pants and unleashed his erection.

Cut to my friend Erik. Or rather, her name is actually Erika, but for reasons entirely unknown I prefer to just call her Erik, once told me, "Skinny guys have big cocks."

In this case? She was entirely right.

It was big. And thick. And, unlike most Americans, uncut. I inhaled sharply. "This, this for me?"

"All for you, baby," he brought it up to my willing mouth and I peeled back the foreskin with my mouth. I got up and repositioned myself so that I was on my knees, so that I could suck him properly. Up and down, in and out of my soft mouth. I licked his frenulum, which elicited an "oh baby, please, yes," and gently caressed his balls. They were firm and perfectly round. At one point, I found myself putting one and then the other into my mouth to suck gently. And then the shaft. Again and again, up and down I bobbed upon his beautiful cock, my hands working him in tandem with my mouth. "Hilda, Hilda, wait," he pulled out of my mouth, pushed me back onto the bed and entered me.

"Ow," I said.

"Relax, it's fine, I'll go slow," he said.

"Mmmptbm," was all I could say.

And then, it was on. He began slowly and then started to pick up speed.

"Oh Trent!" I exclaimed.

"Hilda, Hilda, Hilda," he said as he moved in and out of my body.

"Trent!"

"Hilda," he continued to fuck and fuck, until suddenly, we both went rigid-and came.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson-Lane!

The Urban Assault Vehicle

My sickness continued unabated until the next day, when miraculously, the fever lifted and I felt well enough for the Captain to take me to lunch.

The Captain swore softly, "Gorram it!"

"It's all right. We're just stuck in traffic."

"Another 21st century idea I can do without," he sniffed.

"Yes. But this vehicle is up VERY high," I said.

"Really?"

"And the windows are tinted."

"Do go on, my darlin."

I reached over to his lap and ran my hands up and down his pants. Finding the outline of his cock, I began to lick it, through the trousers. He ran his right hand over my hair, the left, still firmly grasping the wheel. His face, expressionless, yet the ecstasy he felt was apparent under the tutelage of my soft full lips.

"Hilda," he groaned, striving to keep his face a blank.

"Yes, my darling?" I took out his erection. It was magnificent.

"Shiny." he said, face still stoic, but his eyes gave him away. He wore ecstasy in his eyes, and they began to tear a bit as my soft lips rode his cock up and down. "Darling?"

"Yes?"

"I can't. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

And so I continued until he closed his eyes and cried out softly.

I continued to suck, until there was nothing left.

The chaser? A Susie Q(TM) soaked in Patron(TM).

After all, the windows WERE tinted. The law be gorramed!

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

It's Sonnet Time!

The Captain stands beside me as I write, lest I faint.

I have been stricken-and death my destined bedfellow, beckons calmly, as if to say, "It's all right. It will be over soon. " He speaks of this fever that torments me-the aching in my bones and the soreness of my ears and throat. I am a walking talking ENT's dream.

Here's my first effort:

Ode to The Chef

Running out of time [I know, could I BE more trite?]

-eating cherries, succulent and sweet

drinking vanilla vodka Coke(TM) with lime

Salad is served, we begin to eat.

Two kinds of dressing

both homemade-superbly ambitious

prelude to blessing

us with perfectly delicious

meat. There is no need

for dessert. Champagne

is enough. Then Weed.

Or did I forget? Insane

but that's how it works, erasing

time. And later-sated, I sing.

Here is the next poem:

Impatience

Patiently I waited

hoping and wanting

-to be sated.

A week. Another day waiting

the impatience tore at me.

But I was calm.

Yet. Full of nerves, see?

Packed tightly. With balm

you unwound me expertly

over and over, delivering

to the point of pain so sweetly

something

that cannot be duplicated

only given, never traded.

Last sonnet is a commentary of my current condition: sick.

Sickening

Sickening quickly

death becomes

me. Sickly

and green, my body hums

a tired tune.

I'm ready. I know

you can take me soon

and sow

a new beginning

my death

drink my blood, dearest. Sing

of your conquest. Sing it! Breathe my breath!

Take me irrevocably down

grinding me sweetly completely into the ground.

All right. It's difficult to judge one's own work. It's very difficult. But I don't think it's that bad, is it? Fans?

I remain, feverish and dying,

Hilda Stinson

Headaches and Cupcakes

The interior of the restaurant was dark.

I met the Captain at the front. He wore a dress uniform from another century.

"What are you wearing?" I whispered.

"I have to go back to work, very soon," he said.

I sighed. "Somebody is going to catch on, you know."

"No. They won't."

I looked around the crowded restaurant, nobody was looking at us. "You're right. They won't."

The hostess took us to our table and I immediately took off my sandals and put my feet in his lap. He took one foot and gently massaged it, and then he did the other.

Drinks were served and then we were forced to contemplate the menu. Which we did.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Yes. We'll have the calamari and the tuna tartare."

"Very good sir," the waiter turned, menus tucked under his arm and sauntered off.

"I missed you," I said, kissing him.

"Dammit, Hilda, I wish we could have gone back to the ship."

"Well, it's nice to get out once in awhile."

"Gorram it. All right." He kissed me again and slid his hand up my skirt and massaged gently. "I want to have you, right now."

"Lo se. After we eat."

The food was sublime. The calamari was beautifully fried and I alternated between the marinara and the wasabi dipping sauces. The tuna was fine, save that they put cumin on it. What kind of idiota puts cumin on raw fish? It 'ent right. It 'ent.

For dessert we had chocolate cheesecake cupcakes. They had with poofs of creamy white frosting from out of which, disaster struck: a headache. I think it was the cream cheese and the chocolate combination. I can't be sure.

Cap took me right back home. I showered. Two ibuprofin and lay down. He lay beside me.

"Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to get Doc to fix something up for you?"

"Naw. I just need quiet. And dark."

"I'll leave you then. My crew is waiting." He gave me a look. "Next time."

"Yes," I squeezed his hand and then kissed it.

"Thank you," I kissed him.

When I woke up, I saw him sitting across the room, having a drink. "We're celebrating," he said.

"Oh yeah? Was the mission a success?"

"Shiny," he said. "Do you want a drink?"

"Okay," I got up and followed him through the wormhole to his kitchen. "You know, I've always liked it in here. It's so cozy."

"It is, but let's go to my quarters, people eat off that table, Hilda," he said, as he caught me eyeing the long wooden table.

I rolled my eyes. "All right, Cap."

We descended the ladder down into his quarters.

"You know, this is the first time I've ever been here."

"Yup," he proceeded to take off all of my clothes and put me, face down on the bed. He then began to massage me, not missing a single inch.

And I know you're wondering: was there a happy ending?

It was very happy.

For both of us.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson

Maldicion! (Part Dos)

He unclasped my bra, folded it neatly and put it on the night stand.

Cupping my left breast, he took it in his mouth, sucked gently and licked-and then he did the other. Back and forth, it was as if he couldn't decide which one he liked best.

"Pink!" he exclaimed.

"Pink. Yes."

Then he ran his hand down my belly and into my panties, "You're wet."

"Well, it IS a naturally moist area."

He laughed and curled my tiny public pouf around his finger, pushed down my panties and began to lick. "And now it's even more so," and he kept on and on. He was very good. "I like the blonde hair."

"Well, I am a natural blonde."

"Really? Just like that."

"Yup."

He went back to his task, this time, using his hands with his mouth. Until I cried out.

"Ooh. Opera singer," he said, pulling all of his clothes off suddenly.

And there he was: all six foot four of him, naked and hard.

"Get on top," he said.

So I did.

Of course I did. What else would I do?

I remain,

Hilda Stinson