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!
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