My dear readers! I do apologize, but what could I do? Certainly I could not be caught blogging, so the best I could do was to quickly sign off.
I suppose you are all wondering what happened with Thor. Well I will get back to that in a bit. I have to talk a little bit about food. Really. I do.
So for lunch, tamales from Costco were served. And they were quite good, even if they were chicken (I am prejudiced against anything chicken.) I had a beer with the tamale. It made me feel very full, this beer and this tamale. So I napped.
Up from the nap, I found a small carton of Skinny Cow (TM) Caramel Cone in the freezer, which I devour. For diet ice cream, it is sublime. I am on vacation and will deny myself nothing! Creamy vanilla with streaks of caramel and crunchy cone bits! SO yummy. Like Thor would describe me.
When he finished bathing me he carried me into the bedroom and set me gently down on the bed. He wore a towel around his waist, and I wore one on my hair.
"You are adorable," he said, kissing me, his hands on my hips, he pried my legs open and began kissing my breasts, and then my stomach and then my thighs. "Beautiful", he said, his finger gently pressing on my little blonde poof and this his tongue swirled over my pudenda, his finger inside me.
"Is that one or two?"
"Just one."
"It feels like two," I tell him.
"Just one," he pulls it out and licks it. And with that, he gets down to the business of making Miss Hilda come. And not quietly. At which point, he brings his cock up to my entrance and pushes. "Oh." he says, pulls out and his mouth is back on me. "Wetter," he says and tries again. And we are fucking. It's glorious.
When he is finished, he tells me he loves me.
Of course he does.
How could he not?
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Thor's Pizza
He came back carrying a box. And inside the box was the most heavenly pizza ever. The crust was paper thin, like phyllo dough, the sauce a sweet and spicy tomato and the toppings were very fresh.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked my mouth full and my eyes full of wonder.
"My sister made it," he said.
"Your sister?"
"Yeah. I kind of told her about you. But she was already a fan."
"Oh. Okay. I didn't know I was that famous."
"Well, not as famous I am!" he laughed.
"True, dat."
He paused between bites, "You have the most beautiful eyes. Kind of like-"
"Frog," I interrupt.
"Frog?"
"Yes, I have frog colored eyes."
"Well, frog or not, I like 'em." He kissed and poof, all of sudden we were outside. It was a warm summer night and we were in a pond of cool water. "Kiss me," he said, hold my naked body next to his. His mouth fit perfectly on mine and he concentrated fully. "And now," he said, another poof of smoke and we were in a hot shower, his hands soaping me all over.
"Oh, Thor!" I ran my fingers over his nipples, made sure they were rinsed and then sucked on them.
"You know, I'm gonna have to return fire on that," he said as he carefully rinsed me off and began licking my beautiful bubble gum colored nipples. "Damn, you taste so good."
"Well, you DID just wash me.
Dammit. They are home. Must go.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked my mouth full and my eyes full of wonder.
"My sister made it," he said.
"Your sister?"
"Yeah. I kind of told her about you. But she was already a fan."
"Oh. Okay. I didn't know I was that famous."
"Well, not as famous I am!" he laughed.
"True, dat."
He paused between bites, "You have the most beautiful eyes. Kind of like-"
"Frog," I interrupt.
"Frog?"
"Yes, I have frog colored eyes."
"Well, frog or not, I like 'em." He kissed and poof, all of sudden we were outside. It was a warm summer night and we were in a pond of cool water. "Kiss me," he said, hold my naked body next to his. His mouth fit perfectly on mine and he concentrated fully. "And now," he said, another poof of smoke and we were in a hot shower, his hands soaping me all over.
"Oh, Thor!" I ran my fingers over his nipples, made sure they were rinsed and then sucked on them.
"You know, I'm gonna have to return fire on that," he said as he carefully rinsed me off and began licking my beautiful bubble gum colored nipples. "Damn, you taste so good."
"Well, you DID just wash me.
Dammit. They are home. Must go.
Carr's Water Crackers (TM)
I have become obsessed with Carr's Water Crackers (TM). They are all I want to eat. Just plain. In the same way that all I would eat is Caesar Salad, except that I have recently, in my travels come upon some pretty shitty Caesar Salads, which have, in effect, put me "off my tea", so to speak.
The first night home, my mother made a chicken to eclipse all chickens. It was served with REAL mashed potatoes, gravy and mixed vegetables. Everything was profoundly delicious. I was somewhat drunk on the beer that I had gone into town to purchase, and a rum and Coke (TM) -yes, I had also needed to purchase the Coke (TM) as well. It was fortunate that the grocery in town stocked the Mexican Cokes (TM) that I am fond of.
For those of you in the Continental United States who don't know what a Mexican Coke(TM) is, let me enlighten you: it's a Coke(TM) made with real sugar instead of HFC. Apparently they don't make them HERE, in the United States, so we have to import them from Mexico. Lah!
So I have been moldering quietly here in the house, slowly smothering to death from the constant company of my parents. Not that they're bad people. It's just that, I need time to be alone. And it's tricky since they rarely leave the house.
In other news, I have nothing to report on the boy who never will be at this moment because my mind is elsewhere. It's on Thor, you know, the one with the big black truck?
When he left me, he told me how much he liked hugging and kissing me. It felt as if he had a whole stack of loneliness heaped up inside of him that my hugs served to dissipate.
I told him I'd be writing of him, and he requested I turn him into a pizza guy.
"How cheesy!" I said.
"Very punny," he grinned.
"You're a demi-god and you want to deliver pizza?"
"Yeah." He breathed on me and then lifted my chin up so he could kiss me.
"Well, I suppose I could have you arrive WITH a pizza."
"But you don't really like pizza, do you?"
"Most pizza is like cardboard with burnt cheese," I said, "plus, bad carbs and all."
He hugged me and held me close, "You're funny. And you're so cute." His phone chimed. "Dammit."
"I know, the work of a demi-god is never done."
He shook his head. "And I have to do my own IT. You wouldn't believe the people I have to work with. Or rather the dearth of."
"Can't you hire some people?"
"Not my department, darlin'." He pulled me onto his lap. "I'll be back in an hour. And when I return.."
"When you return," I turned over, straddling him, touching my fingers to his earlobes, licking the gap between his two front teeth and kissed him throughly.
"Yeah. That." He disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to briefly reappear, "Pizza? IF it's good pizza?"
"Okay."
To be continued...
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The first night home, my mother made a chicken to eclipse all chickens. It was served with REAL mashed potatoes, gravy and mixed vegetables. Everything was profoundly delicious. I was somewhat drunk on the beer that I had gone into town to purchase, and a rum and Coke (TM) -yes, I had also needed to purchase the Coke (TM) as well. It was fortunate that the grocery in town stocked the Mexican Cokes (TM) that I am fond of.
For those of you in the Continental United States who don't know what a Mexican Coke(TM) is, let me enlighten you: it's a Coke(TM) made with real sugar instead of HFC. Apparently they don't make them HERE, in the United States, so we have to import them from Mexico. Lah!
So I have been moldering quietly here in the house, slowly smothering to death from the constant company of my parents. Not that they're bad people. It's just that, I need time to be alone. And it's tricky since they rarely leave the house.
In other news, I have nothing to report on the boy who never will be at this moment because my mind is elsewhere. It's on Thor, you know, the one with the big black truck?
When he left me, he told me how much he liked hugging and kissing me. It felt as if he had a whole stack of loneliness heaped up inside of him that my hugs served to dissipate.
I told him I'd be writing of him, and he requested I turn him into a pizza guy.
"How cheesy!" I said.
"Very punny," he grinned.
"You're a demi-god and you want to deliver pizza?"
"Yeah." He breathed on me and then lifted my chin up so he could kiss me.
"Well, I suppose I could have you arrive WITH a pizza."
"But you don't really like pizza, do you?"
"Most pizza is like cardboard with burnt cheese," I said, "plus, bad carbs and all."
He hugged me and held me close, "You're funny. And you're so cute." His phone chimed. "Dammit."
"I know, the work of a demi-god is never done."
He shook his head. "And I have to do my own IT. You wouldn't believe the people I have to work with. Or rather the dearth of."
"Can't you hire some people?"
"Not my department, darlin'." He pulled me onto his lap. "I'll be back in an hour. And when I return.."
"When you return," I turned over, straddling him, touching my fingers to his earlobes, licking the gap between his two front teeth and kissed him throughly.
"Yeah. That." He disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to briefly reappear, "Pizza? IF it's good pizza?"
"Okay."
To be continued...
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, December 24, 2012
All I Want for Christmas is You..
is the title of a trashy little romance novel that I enjoyed last night before retiring. True, it wasn't the hottest sexiest book ever, but it was enjoyable in a predictable little way. But it made me think. OR rather, the thought of "all I want for Christmas is you" was what led me to the book in the first place.
You my dear reader, are waiting, no doubt with bated breath, hoping against hope that perhaps I mean you, as an individual. But how could I know who anymore? And fantasy is just that, fantasy, and you, as my fans, have to accept that, like it or not.
"There's a boy, I know, he's the one I dream of.." (gotcha again, another Whitney Houston riff). Lol. Oh wait. Does she sing the "All I Want for Christmas is You" song? Anyway, I absolutely do not know this boy except that he works in a shop I frequent. And by this point, I believe I have said enough. And am about to lead you back to what actually happened today and not what could never happen with this boy.
I was driving home. And I got the brilliant idea to call a certain someone that I'm longing to see..(I am full of riffs today), half this column could have been sung.
I called. He came. And we had lunch. And after lunch-he kissed me. And it was hot. Right there in the parking lot, right beside the giant truck that he drives (and no, it's NOT true, he 'ent compensating for anything.) And then he walked me to my car and bade me a safe trip.
When he called this evening I felt so frustrated because the house is so small and everything would be heard. There is NO privacy here. Unfortunately. I told him when they are at church. He said, "Call me then." So I shall. But before I do, I think it only fair to catalogue my desires.
I am hoping the room he selects is posh and that we go after lunch and that we stay there all day and night. Not playing video games. And, am I being coy, my darling readers? How dare I?
I dare.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(desires soon to be catalogued-am I just too sleepy? Or am I being discreet?!)
You my dear reader, are waiting, no doubt with bated breath, hoping against hope that perhaps I mean you, as an individual. But how could I know who anymore? And fantasy is just that, fantasy, and you, as my fans, have to accept that, like it or not.
"There's a boy, I know, he's the one I dream of.." (gotcha again, another Whitney Houston riff). Lol. Oh wait. Does she sing the "All I Want for Christmas is You" song? Anyway, I absolutely do not know this boy except that he works in a shop I frequent. And by this point, I believe I have said enough. And am about to lead you back to what actually happened today and not what could never happen with this boy.
I was driving home. And I got the brilliant idea to call a certain someone that I'm longing to see..(I am full of riffs today), half this column could have been sung.
I called. He came. And we had lunch. And after lunch-he kissed me. And it was hot. Right there in the parking lot, right beside the giant truck that he drives (and no, it's NOT true, he 'ent compensating for anything.) And then he walked me to my car and bade me a safe trip.
When he called this evening I felt so frustrated because the house is so small and everything would be heard. There is NO privacy here. Unfortunately. I told him when they are at church. He said, "Call me then." So I shall. But before I do, I think it only fair to catalogue my desires.
I am hoping the room he selects is posh and that we go after lunch and that we stay there all day and night. Not playing video games. And, am I being coy, my darling readers? How dare I?
I dare.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(desires soon to be catalogued-am I just too sleepy? Or am I being discreet?!)
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Big O...
Tire is a shop that sells tires and fixes cars. I happened to be dangerously low on oil when I caromed into their lot. The owner/operator was watching tv. He set his mechanic right on it. And while one was tending to me, another came over and helped. And when I asked what I owed for the fluids they gave me-they put in something else other than oil, which I don't rightly recall, he said it was on the house! Can you believe the excellent customer service? I was out of my mind with oh-my-godded-ness and joy. So of course, even though it's weeks later, I thought it worth mentioning on the blog. If only I could remember WHICH street it was on. *sigh* I'm afraid, my dear readers that my memory for things is only getting worse.
With that,
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
With that,
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Now Extinct at your Local Supermarket: The Onion Bagel
I decided that the hassle of driving down to Einstein's (TM) was just too much. Couple that with the fact that I KNOW they think I'm a bitch. And I am. Thank you. Bitch IS the new black.
I had to go to Best Buy because I THOUGHT my phone was dead. It wasn't. The dude fired it right up. It was really weird. As if there was some cosmic plot to get me out of the house.
Anyway, I decided that since I was out of paper towels, nearly out of toilet paper and that I could always use some more pads, I went to Target (TM). And then to Frye's(TM) in search of an onion bagel.
I went to the freezer section first, thinking of the Lender's (TM) onion bagels I used to enjoy as a child. Well, guess what? They have Lender's bagels, but guess where they are? I dare you. Guess.
They are in the refrigerated section above the eggs. Not with all the frozen breakfast treats, egg sandwiches and waffles-no. They are above the eggs in a totally difference section of the supermarket.
The nice lady at the deli informed me that they don't make onion bagels anymore. "My boyfriend loves them, too," she had said.
"What about organic cream cheese?"
"It's with the tofu and all the other vegan foods at the front of the store."
I knew what she was talking about, so it was there I found the organic cream cheese. The question is: why isn't it with the other cream cheeses?!!! I mean sure, put them THERE, but also have some back where one would FIND cream cheese.
When I got home, I fired up the oven and began to write.
And now? The damn bagel is burnt!!!!
Mother of fuck!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
I had to go to Best Buy because I THOUGHT my phone was dead. It wasn't. The dude fired it right up. It was really weird. As if there was some cosmic plot to get me out of the house.
Anyway, I decided that since I was out of paper towels, nearly out of toilet paper and that I could always use some more pads, I went to Target (TM). And then to Frye's(TM) in search of an onion bagel.
I went to the freezer section first, thinking of the Lender's (TM) onion bagels I used to enjoy as a child. Well, guess what? They have Lender's bagels, but guess where they are? I dare you. Guess.
They are in the refrigerated section above the eggs. Not with all the frozen breakfast treats, egg sandwiches and waffles-no. They are above the eggs in a totally difference section of the supermarket.
The nice lady at the deli informed me that they don't make onion bagels anymore. "My boyfriend loves them, too," she had said.
"What about organic cream cheese?"
"It's with the tofu and all the other vegan foods at the front of the store."
I knew what she was talking about, so it was there I found the organic cream cheese. The question is: why isn't it with the other cream cheeses?!!! I mean sure, put them THERE, but also have some back where one would FIND cream cheese.
When I got home, I fired up the oven and began to write.
And now? The damn bagel is burnt!!!!
Mother of fuck!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Bagel Madness
First off, I want to preface this by saying that, "I AM NOT A BITCH!"
I just want what I want.
And what I want is a perfectly toasted bagel that ISN'T BURNED.
Is that so hard?
Apparently.
Einstein's Bagels (TM) makes a very bagel with lox on it. Which is great. But usually they either burn it, or it's served mostly raw. Every time I go there I have to explain that I don't want it burned or raw. The last time I went, they burned it, so I returned it. And then they were out of onion bagels. Of course. And then the poppy seed one was raw. I just didn't have the heart to return THAT. What a nuisance!
But since the craving today is for an onion bagel with cream cheese, I just don't know. Perhaps I should just buy a frozen bagel pack at Frye's and some organic cream cheese and make it myself. I don't HAVE a toaster, but I reckon I can bake it perfectly in the oven. Which means turning on the oven. Not to be redundant here, but let's go over what it means to turn on the oven. Basically, a lot. And for ONE bagel? I don't know. Perhaps I should risk it and go to Einstein's(TM). Or Starbucks(TM) (NOOOOOO!) I just don't know. Readers?
I just want what I want.
And what I want is a perfectly toasted bagel that ISN'T BURNED.
Is that so hard?
Apparently.
Einstein's Bagels (TM) makes a very bagel with lox on it. Which is great. But usually they either burn it, or it's served mostly raw. Every time I go there I have to explain that I don't want it burned or raw. The last time I went, they burned it, so I returned it. And then they were out of onion bagels. Of course. And then the poppy seed one was raw. I just didn't have the heart to return THAT. What a nuisance!
But since the craving today is for an onion bagel with cream cheese, I just don't know. Perhaps I should just buy a frozen bagel pack at Frye's and some organic cream cheese and make it myself. I don't HAVE a toaster, but I reckon I can bake it perfectly in the oven. Which means turning on the oven. Not to be redundant here, but let's go over what it means to turn on the oven. Basically, a lot. And for ONE bagel? I don't know. Perhaps I should risk it and go to Einstein's(TM). Or Starbucks(TM) (NOOOOOO!) I just don't know. Readers?
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Lane Stark Comes in the Dark
After I left the book club meeting, I was a bit shaken. A vampire. What the fuck? And what was this ability to "toggle" between natures? Truly bizarre. I was angry, to put it simply. He could have just TOLD me, instead he decided to break my heart and then when HE was ready he told me. Well, that was just fucked up. In so many ways.
One of my new favorite foods (yes, I'm changing the subject) is edamame. It's truly delicious and I love it so much. The feel of the tender green beads in my mouth and their carby taste is truly wonderful. I have recently read a book that recommends becoming a vegan. Of course, given my recent and still continuing blood loss, I still continue to consume meat, lest I fade away. At this point, not to startle you, my dear readers, but the truth is, you can see my ribs. And my arms and legs are looking mighty skinny right now. I'm sorry, but my lush form is disappearing as I continue to lose blood at an alarming rate. Another problem is my skin: it's breaking out. I have a great big one right above the left side of my upper lip. It looks like a booger snot on my face. Gross.
I have to confess, I have not really been enjoying food as is my wont. Another thing I've been eating a lot of is pumpkin seeds (salted and crispy..mmm) which I mix with sunflower seeds, which I have begun to crave daily. My chocolate needs have been way down ever since I started using a sunscreen with cocoa butter in it. And then there's the cocoa butter lip gloss. So I guess it's true, you can take nutrients into your skin. I am, sad to say, becoming somewhat indifferent to chocolate. Gasp! I know. Hard to believe, right?
As I write, my hair falls in soft wet waves down my back and around my face. I am standing in my kitchen, as I have no furniture at my disposal for a computer. The computer rests on the small part of the counter by the stove with my cell phone plugged in next to it.
There is a knock at the door.
It's him.
"Hilda."
"Lane."
"Can I come in?"
I sigh, resigned to tolerate him. "Sure."
I am wearing panties. And a pad (of course.)
"You smell incredible," he says.
"Yeah."
He suddenly picks me up and brings me into my room and sets me on the bed. "Do you love me?"
"Oh Jesus!"
"Do you?" His blue eyes look deeply into mine.
I sigh. "All right.
"All right?"
"Yes. Okay. Dammit, Lane!"
His mouth covers me with a kiss and he's off. His hands roam my body and his mouth is all over me and then, he reaches my tiny little blonde fluff. He kisses it and moves his tongue down to my clit, I moan.
"That's it, baby," he says, pulling off my panties and stationing himself between my legs. He begins to suck and suck, his face becoming wet with my blood. "Oh, you taste so good," he says.
I find myself being a bit embarrassed for him. The sucking out of my blood doesn't really do it for me.
"Lick me," I order.
And he does, making me come over and over again, he slurps up every last drop of the blood.
He then rips off his trousers and puts his giant erection inside me, in and out he goes, until he comes and he screams in ecstasy. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he cries and then kisses me.
"I, uh, love you too, Lane," I say. "Now get off me, you're heavy!"
He gets off me and then pulls me to him. "Do you really love me?"
"Yes."
"Then drink from me."
"I will NOT!" I exclaim.
"But it will make you stronger. Make it so you're not so tired all the time."
"Lane, the whole blood drinking thing is just icky. Okay? I accept your vampirism, I accept that you want to drain every last drop out of my tiny vaginy, but I do NOT want to drink any blood, yours or anyone else's."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross, that's why. God. I just. God. Why can't you just be a normal guy?"
"I can be a normal guy. I can toggle, remember?"
"I remember. Now let's have a shower."
We get into the shower and he is tender with me. Against my will, I find myself turning back to him with more passion than I could ever remember mustering.
"Can we do it again?"
"Well, I think I've sucked out all the blood."
"Um, I meant, can we just have sex again. WithOUT the blood?"
His eyes lit up. "Of course! Yes!"
"Will you toggle back to human?"
"Of course. For you, anything," he grinned.
And we did it again. It was different. But still good.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
One of my new favorite foods (yes, I'm changing the subject) is edamame. It's truly delicious and I love it so much. The feel of the tender green beads in my mouth and their carby taste is truly wonderful. I have recently read a book that recommends becoming a vegan. Of course, given my recent and still continuing blood loss, I still continue to consume meat, lest I fade away. At this point, not to startle you, my dear readers, but the truth is, you can see my ribs. And my arms and legs are looking mighty skinny right now. I'm sorry, but my lush form is disappearing as I continue to lose blood at an alarming rate. Another problem is my skin: it's breaking out. I have a great big one right above the left side of my upper lip. It looks like a booger snot on my face. Gross.
I have to confess, I have not really been enjoying food as is my wont. Another thing I've been eating a lot of is pumpkin seeds (salted and crispy..mmm) which I mix with sunflower seeds, which I have begun to crave daily. My chocolate needs have been way down ever since I started using a sunscreen with cocoa butter in it. And then there's the cocoa butter lip gloss. So I guess it's true, you can take nutrients into your skin. I am, sad to say, becoming somewhat indifferent to chocolate. Gasp! I know. Hard to believe, right?
As I write, my hair falls in soft wet waves down my back and around my face. I am standing in my kitchen, as I have no furniture at my disposal for a computer. The computer rests on the small part of the counter by the stove with my cell phone plugged in next to it.
There is a knock at the door.
It's him.
"Hilda."
"Lane."
"Can I come in?"
I sigh, resigned to tolerate him. "Sure."
I am wearing panties. And a pad (of course.)
"You smell incredible," he says.
"Yeah."
He suddenly picks me up and brings me into my room and sets me on the bed. "Do you love me?"
"Oh Jesus!"
"Do you?" His blue eyes look deeply into mine.
I sigh. "All right.
"All right?"
"Yes. Okay. Dammit, Lane!"
His mouth covers me with a kiss and he's off. His hands roam my body and his mouth is all over me and then, he reaches my tiny little blonde fluff. He kisses it and moves his tongue down to my clit, I moan.
"That's it, baby," he says, pulling off my panties and stationing himself between my legs. He begins to suck and suck, his face becoming wet with my blood. "Oh, you taste so good," he says.
I find myself being a bit embarrassed for him. The sucking out of my blood doesn't really do it for me.
"Lick me," I order.
And he does, making me come over and over again, he slurps up every last drop of the blood.
He then rips off his trousers and puts his giant erection inside me, in and out he goes, until he comes and he screams in ecstasy. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he cries and then kisses me.
"I, uh, love you too, Lane," I say. "Now get off me, you're heavy!"
He gets off me and then pulls me to him. "Do you really love me?"
"Yes."
"Then drink from me."
"I will NOT!" I exclaim.
"But it will make you stronger. Make it so you're not so tired all the time."
"Lane, the whole blood drinking thing is just icky. Okay? I accept your vampirism, I accept that you want to drain every last drop out of my tiny vaginy, but I do NOT want to drink any blood, yours or anyone else's."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross, that's why. God. I just. God. Why can't you just be a normal guy?"
"I can be a normal guy. I can toggle, remember?"
"I remember. Now let's have a shower."
We get into the shower and he is tender with me. Against my will, I find myself turning back to him with more passion than I could ever remember mustering.
"Can we do it again?"
"Well, I think I've sucked out all the blood."
"Um, I meant, can we just have sex again. WithOUT the blood?"
His eyes lit up. "Of course! Yes!"
"Will you toggle back to human?"
"Of course. For you, anything," he grinned.
And we did it again. It was different. But still good.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The Mater, the Pater and the Terminator (of periods)
It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays because I get to leave early (relatively speaking). After 20 days of NOT bleeding, it began again. Luckily I had been paranoid to constantly (usually) remember to wear a panty liner! Noting that it was "starting", I hightailed it to my purse for one of those "over night" type pads that I wear. You see, the flow is so heavy that it would be ridiculous to buy any other kind.
The technology of padding has changed significantly since I was a child. Now there are pads that, if I am correct, are filled with a powder, that changes to a gel upon contact with anything wet. The wetness being my brilliantly colored blood that seeps out of me in great spurts. My observation? It's a wiley red liquid. It WANTS to get all over my panties and my sheets. It's motto is: "anywhere but the pad!"
On Friday, the pain was so intense that I had to bend and clutch my stomach to reliever it. After a bit, the pain subsided, but the flow did not. I had 3 pads packed in my purse AND a super tampon, plus I had come to work wearing a pad (an "overnighter" to be sure). I used up every single one and barely made it home by 5:30. Heavy.
In other news, my car needed a little work so Lane called to offer me the assistance of his chauffeur. (He had heard from Agnes that I needed a ride.) I politely declined because I didn't want the embarrassment of arriving at work in a limo. Sure, I know, some people might be pretty proud to show up like that, but Lane's wealth had always embarrassed me a little bit, so I bit the bullet and rented a car to the tune of 130 dollars for two days. Over all, with my new job, I supposed I could afford it, but what rankled the most was that I COULD HAVE SEEN LANE and I chose not to. I chose to show him that I didn't need him. Except that I did. More than ever. And I wondered if he was suffering too.
On Friday, I came home and collapsed. I was exhausted. And bleeding. I took an iron tab from the bottle my mother had given me.
"You've lost a lot of blood," she had said. "Here, take these." So I took the entire bottle home with me.
And the doctor (yes, I now have health insurance) told me to take two a day.
Given that iron poisoning is pretty prevalent in the US, I have decided to take the supplements ONLY when I'm bleeding. Which, as far as I know, might be indefinitely.
At the book club that evening, Lane approached me. He was pale and instead of ignoring me, or trying to talk to me, he just came up to me and held me.
"Smells good," he said, releasing me.
"What?"
"You smell really good."
"Oh, Lane. I smell like a stevedore." And it was true, I did. When my time is upon me, I need at least 3 showers a day to feel like I don't stink.
He just shook his head. "Can we talk?"
"Um, okay," I said.
He took my hand and led me out to the patio, where everyone was smoking. He guided me over to a bench that was away from everyone else and took a deep breath.
"What is it?" Fear rankled in my chest. He had something horrible to say, I could sense it.
"All these months, apart, I-"
"What is it?"
"I have to tell you something. I mean. First, do you love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" I snapped. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Do you even know?"
He hung his head.
"That's right. I've been crying and crying and nothing seems to make it better. Not even that idiot I slept with had any effect."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I tried to get over you, I tried. I really tried." I burst into tears. "I felt nothing for him, but I hoped that being with him with help reset me, get me back to where I was before we even met, but it just made it worse." I glared at him through my tears, "And yes, I DO love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."
"I love you too," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I drove you to that."
"Well. You did," I stated plainly.
"Did he use a condom?"
"Yes," I giggled. "In fact, while he was out in search of, I nearly got dressed an left. I was that NOT into him."
"I wish you had."
"Me too."
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. What I have to tell you has been nagging at me, ever since I knew that I loved you. I mean," he paused, "I tried not to love you, but it didn't do any good. I kept thinking about you. Couldn't stop."
"Why didn't you ever tell me you loved me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well, the man has to say it first."
He laughed. "All right. I'll say it, Hilda, I love you. I love you more than you could possibly fathom. I love you so much it hurts. It hurts," he paused, "it really does hurt."
"I know."
"I cried too, you know."
"So why did you break up with me in the first place?"
"Well, it's about my secret. It's not that I couldn't trust you. It wasn't that," he shook his head.
"Well?"
"It's complicated."
"Really? Enlighten me."
"All right, but you might not quite believe me and you might get mad-and I, I don't want to lose you forever."
"Spill it, Stark."
"I'm a vampire."
"You're a vampire?!"
"Yes."
"Okay. Granted we live on the edge of reality in a land dubbed Fictionata, but seriously? I mean is there nothing sacred these days? Does every fictional piece have to descend down to this lower level? Does it really?"
He gave me a sheepish smile. "I can smell you right now. I can smell the blood. Let me help you get rid of all that stuff. I know about all the pads and tampons you have to use and the worry of getting it all over everything. Let me just suck it out of you, so you won't have to worry. Plus, you taste so good."
I gave him a look.
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"I am serious! I'm a vampire. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah. I can toggle between human and vamp. Kind of cool, right?"
"You sicken me."
"You just said you love me."
"Oh Lane. Oh Lane, you are seriously pathetic."
I sighed. For some reason, he didn't appeal to me anymore. Somehow his revelation had turned my stomach in an unheard of direction: for whatever reason, I was now, finally and forevermore OVER Lane Stark.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The technology of padding has changed significantly since I was a child. Now there are pads that, if I am correct, are filled with a powder, that changes to a gel upon contact with anything wet. The wetness being my brilliantly colored blood that seeps out of me in great spurts. My observation? It's a wiley red liquid. It WANTS to get all over my panties and my sheets. It's motto is: "anywhere but the pad!"
On Friday, the pain was so intense that I had to bend and clutch my stomach to reliever it. After a bit, the pain subsided, but the flow did not. I had 3 pads packed in my purse AND a super tampon, plus I had come to work wearing a pad (an "overnighter" to be sure). I used up every single one and barely made it home by 5:30. Heavy.
In other news, my car needed a little work so Lane called to offer me the assistance of his chauffeur. (He had heard from Agnes that I needed a ride.) I politely declined because I didn't want the embarrassment of arriving at work in a limo. Sure, I know, some people might be pretty proud to show up like that, but Lane's wealth had always embarrassed me a little bit, so I bit the bullet and rented a car to the tune of 130 dollars for two days. Over all, with my new job, I supposed I could afford it, but what rankled the most was that I COULD HAVE SEEN LANE and I chose not to. I chose to show him that I didn't need him. Except that I did. More than ever. And I wondered if he was suffering too.
On Friday, I came home and collapsed. I was exhausted. And bleeding. I took an iron tab from the bottle my mother had given me.
"You've lost a lot of blood," she had said. "Here, take these." So I took the entire bottle home with me.
And the doctor (yes, I now have health insurance) told me to take two a day.
Given that iron poisoning is pretty prevalent in the US, I have decided to take the supplements ONLY when I'm bleeding. Which, as far as I know, might be indefinitely.
At the book club that evening, Lane approached me. He was pale and instead of ignoring me, or trying to talk to me, he just came up to me and held me.
"Smells good," he said, releasing me.
"What?"
"You smell really good."
"Oh, Lane. I smell like a stevedore." And it was true, I did. When my time is upon me, I need at least 3 showers a day to feel like I don't stink.
He just shook his head. "Can we talk?"
"Um, okay," I said.
He took my hand and led me out to the patio, where everyone was smoking. He guided me over to a bench that was away from everyone else and took a deep breath.
"What is it?" Fear rankled in my chest. He had something horrible to say, I could sense it.
"All these months, apart, I-"
"What is it?"
"I have to tell you something. I mean. First, do you love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" I snapped. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Do you even know?"
He hung his head.
"That's right. I've been crying and crying and nothing seems to make it better. Not even that idiot I slept with had any effect."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I tried to get over you, I tried. I really tried." I burst into tears. "I felt nothing for him, but I hoped that being with him with help reset me, get me back to where I was before we even met, but it just made it worse." I glared at him through my tears, "And yes, I DO love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."
"I love you too," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I drove you to that."
"Well. You did," I stated plainly.
"Did he use a condom?"
"Yes," I giggled. "In fact, while he was out in search of, I nearly got dressed an left. I was that NOT into him."
"I wish you had."
"Me too."
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. What I have to tell you has been nagging at me, ever since I knew that I loved you. I mean," he paused, "I tried not to love you, but it didn't do any good. I kept thinking about you. Couldn't stop."
"Why didn't you ever tell me you loved me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well, the man has to say it first."
He laughed. "All right. I'll say it, Hilda, I love you. I love you more than you could possibly fathom. I love you so much it hurts. It hurts," he paused, "it really does hurt."
"I know."
"I cried too, you know."
"So why did you break up with me in the first place?"
"Well, it's about my secret. It's not that I couldn't trust you. It wasn't that," he shook his head.
"Well?"
"It's complicated."
"Really? Enlighten me."
"All right, but you might not quite believe me and you might get mad-and I, I don't want to lose you forever."
"Spill it, Stark."
"I'm a vampire."
"You're a vampire?!"
"Yes."
"Okay. Granted we live on the edge of reality in a land dubbed Fictionata, but seriously? I mean is there nothing sacred these days? Does every fictional piece have to descend down to this lower level? Does it really?"
He gave me a sheepish smile. "I can smell you right now. I can smell the blood. Let me help you get rid of all that stuff. I know about all the pads and tampons you have to use and the worry of getting it all over everything. Let me just suck it out of you, so you won't have to worry. Plus, you taste so good."
I gave him a look.
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"I am serious! I'm a vampire. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah. I can toggle between human and vamp. Kind of cool, right?"
"You sicken me."
"You just said you love me."
"Oh Lane. Oh Lane, you are seriously pathetic."
I sighed. For some reason, he didn't appeal to me anymore. Somehow his revelation had turned my stomach in an unheard of direction: for whatever reason, I was now, finally and forevermore OVER Lane Stark.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Fifty Shades of Ridiculousness
The latest pop cultural phenomenon is the Fifty Shades of Grey franchise. In this book, a young woman, a virgin (naturally-because we can't have our heroines be sluts!) meets a billionaire who sweeps her off her feet and it's first love for both. This is a man who is accustomed to being a dom. Which I suppose is all right if that's what you're into. But the point is: she changes him so that he can and will do vanilla sex. He is also, emotionally speaking, incredibly pathetic.
What I feel I must address is those persons who place ads that say they are "like him"-but turn out to be total uggos. I mean, I am sorry, but if you are FAT and UGLY you are not Fifty. You just aren't. One bloke posted up a picture that was clearly not him (it was a 1950's sepia colored photo)-of course the dude in the photo was VAR VAR cute. Anyway, down near the bottom of the ad was the actual picture of the perpetrator. He was fat. AND he was ugly.
'Nuff said.
H.S.
What I feel I must address is those persons who place ads that say they are "like him"-but turn out to be total uggos. I mean, I am sorry, but if you are FAT and UGLY you are not Fifty. You just aren't. One bloke posted up a picture that was clearly not him (it was a 1950's sepia colored photo)-of course the dude in the photo was VAR VAR cute. Anyway, down near the bottom of the ad was the actual picture of the perpetrator. He was fat. AND he was ugly.
'Nuff said.
H.S.
"Is it live, or is it Memorex (TM)?"
It is the book club meeting:
And we are discussing the old commercial. Lane insists that it was shot in black and white. Thor and I disagree with him. But he insists. And then I remember why I'm better off without him.
The food is, in keeping with the season, turkey, three different varieties of mashed potato and a dressing baked in a pumpkin shell. Salty. Most of it is, except the turkey and potatoes. But out of the mist, a dish arrives that is totally vegan. Beans. Cooked with various veggies and perfectly salted. It is served as a dip with corn chips and is amazingly delicious. The last item of note was the German onion cake a.k.a. white pizza. Brutally yummy. Oh. And there was a whiskey cake. Also fabulous. So moist and sweet, it made me forget I don't eat dessert unless it's chocolate. Over all, it was a feast to be reckoned with.
The next day, I discovered that La Perilla Suiza, a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town, makes the best chunky salsa ever. There were real chunks of veggies: tomatoes, green peppers and onions-and the green salsa was awesome too. The red? Not so much. The Caesar salad? (I have become a real aficionado of the Caesar.) OH MY GOD. Other than the homemade dressing (or perhaps well BOUGHT dressing-who really knows?) it was awful. First of all, the dressing just came on the side. Right. Like I'm such a bitch, they automatically assume I want it on the side. And the croutons? CLEARLY from a cheap supermarket brand, along with the black olives (which really have no place in this kind of salad unless they are YUMMY!) which must have come in an industrial sized drum. Truly the worst. But I guess that's what I get for ordering something non-Mexican. The salsa made me want to marry the chef sight unseen, while that salad make me want to deck him. So it all evens out.
From across the bar, I saw a man who looked almost exactly like Lane, except he was normal sized. He tried to buy me a drink, but I had had enough of his ilk.
I went home and slept soundly in the arms of the Captain.
Now there's a man who TRULY understands.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
And we are discussing the old commercial. Lane insists that it was shot in black and white. Thor and I disagree with him. But he insists. And then I remember why I'm better off without him.
The food is, in keeping with the season, turkey, three different varieties of mashed potato and a dressing baked in a pumpkin shell. Salty. Most of it is, except the turkey and potatoes. But out of the mist, a dish arrives that is totally vegan. Beans. Cooked with various veggies and perfectly salted. It is served as a dip with corn chips and is amazingly delicious. The last item of note was the German onion cake a.k.a. white pizza. Brutally yummy. Oh. And there was a whiskey cake. Also fabulous. So moist and sweet, it made me forget I don't eat dessert unless it's chocolate. Over all, it was a feast to be reckoned with.
The next day, I discovered that La Perilla Suiza, a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town, makes the best chunky salsa ever. There were real chunks of veggies: tomatoes, green peppers and onions-and the green salsa was awesome too. The red? Not so much. The Caesar salad? (I have become a real aficionado of the Caesar.) OH MY GOD. Other than the homemade dressing (or perhaps well BOUGHT dressing-who really knows?) it was awful. First of all, the dressing just came on the side. Right. Like I'm such a bitch, they automatically assume I want it on the side. And the croutons? CLEARLY from a cheap supermarket brand, along with the black olives (which really have no place in this kind of salad unless they are YUMMY!) which must have come in an industrial sized drum. Truly the worst. But I guess that's what I get for ordering something non-Mexican. The salsa made me want to marry the chef sight unseen, while that salad make me want to deck him. So it all evens out.
From across the bar, I saw a man who looked almost exactly like Lane, except he was normal sized. He tried to buy me a drink, but I had had enough of his ilk.
I went home and slept soundly in the arms of the Captain.
Now there's a man who TRULY understands.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Shout out to my new fan! Now there are 11!
I just noticed that there is a new fan! Not to embarrass you or anything, but welcome aboard and we're glad to have you. (I won't mention you by name. Okay?) Good. Welcome to StinsonWorld. (Yeah, I just made that up.)
Ours is a world of food and fantasy. Mostly one or the other, depending on my mood.
Lately, I've availed myself of the latest scientific research and am about to go vegan. I shall miss cheese. Lucky for me chocolate is a vegetable!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Ours is a world of food and fantasy. Mostly one or the other, depending on my mood.
Lately, I've availed myself of the latest scientific research and am about to go vegan. I shall miss cheese. Lucky for me chocolate is a vegetable!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Friday, November 23, 2012
The Disappointment Continues...
Last weekend, I met Brad the Bad. And, you know something? He really was. But I suppose I can say one nice thing about him. He looked really great with his shirt off, which is so much more than I can ever say about Lane, who really looks kind of scrawny with his shirt off. Mainly because he's so freakishly tall that it's impossible for him to put on weight.
Brad told me all the things that Lane never did: I was beautiful, I was intelligent (wait, Lane did mention that. I think). Well, anyway, he just wasn't Lane. It was sad actually. He kept grabbing for me while I was trying to sleep. A genuine guarantee that I would never sleep with HIM again.
But onto the next, I always say-and bring on the cream cheese.
That's right, my new favorite food is cream cheese. I like it on everything. Being that I'm near menopause, it's probably for the hormones, but no matter, last night I had a dirty bird martini (dirty martini with cream cheese stuffed olives). And I drank that thing down desperately, because, let's face it, I REALLY REALLY needed a drink after the day that I had had. And the olives were delicious. I do love olives.
My date and I discussed the horrible traffic. We had both "gone around" it, by driving through a parking lot. In fact, I even threw a small tantrum on the way over. Because, let's face it, Hilda don't DO traffic. Nawsuh.
He was a normal kind of tall, six foot two-and stocky enough, well over 200lbs, which was kind of nice.( I am most tired of meeting men whom I outweigh.). After spending half the evening with me, he handed me a tiny chunk of Adderall because, the fact is, darlings, Hilda is very ADD. And this hot doc "could tell".
After feeding me drugs (which, to be fair, is always welcome because you know, I am always a wee bit out of sorts), "a pediatric dose", he said. I felt, you know, able to function. Still had a headache, but I was able to not be comatose from the food.
For apps, we had cream cheese filled won tons (ordered by guess who? (ME!) And he ordered something with salmon in it, which we didn't finish. Let's face it, it if 'ent raw, I'm not eating it (salmon).
Next, I had a craving for fettucine alfredo, which was somewhat blunted by the crappy unseasoned noodle they saw fit to serve. But the caesar salad was good. I ate all of it. I really liked it. Very fresh.
For dessert, we had Godiva(TM) chocolate cheesecake. Very rich. And the decaf I had was also good. Yay Cheesecake Factory(TM).
The other thing that happened was that I got very comfortable with D. I put my feet up-and he massaged them! Very gently, I might add. Perhaps TOO gently.
We walked and talked and seemed to be hitting it off. The key word being "seems".
Later that night he wrote that we didn't have anything in common, but he'd be happy to just fuck me (because I was SOOOO sexy (rolls eyes)), but that a relationship was out of the question because I couldn't abide his beard growth and was an early riser.
Yeah. Well. What can I say?
At least I got a decent meal out of it.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Why Best Buy ISN'T
Sure they have low low prices.
And long long lines.
And what else? Oh yeah. Warranties. For your phone. And the charger IS covered. But just try to get a new one. I dare you.
I am now on my tenth call. TENTH. Yes. Because you see they can't replace it in the store. Oh no. That would never work.
You have to CALL them on their 1888 Best Buy number. And then WAIT. And Wait.
I'm still waiting. Let's see. It's 7:25 here. I'll let you know when they finally pick up.7:36.
Okay. They're not going to pick up any time soon. It will be all fucking day.
I suppose it's time for a Face Book campaign.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
7:40
And long long lines.
And what else? Oh yeah. Warranties. For your phone. And the charger IS covered. But just try to get a new one. I dare you.
I am now on my tenth call. TENTH. Yes. Because you see they can't replace it in the store. Oh no. That would never work.
You have to CALL them on their 1888 Best Buy number. And then WAIT. And Wait.
I'm still waiting. Let's see. It's 7:25 here. I'll let you know when they finally pick up.7:36.
Okay. They're not going to pick up any time soon. It will be all fucking day.
I suppose it's time for a Face Book campaign.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
7:40
Monday, October 1, 2012
Lays BLT Chips
My darling readers, first, I have to apologize for the dearth of columns.
When I was entrenched in that awful relationship with Lane Stark, I was unable to write. Really. Unable. The man sapped everything out of me.
But now, I am back and better than ever!
It was at a CVS when I was buying aspirin (the ibuprofen were NOT working on my headaches anymore) that I saw them: Lays BLT chips.
Naturally I HAD to purchase them. They were the most profoundly delicious potato chips I'd ever eaten.
Sadly, I haven't seen them since.
Kind of like ol' Lane.
Que Sera, my darlings, que sera,
Hilda Stinson
When I was entrenched in that awful relationship with Lane Stark, I was unable to write. Really. Unable. The man sapped everything out of me.
But now, I am back and better than ever!
It was at a CVS when I was buying aspirin (the ibuprofen were NOT working on my headaches anymore) that I saw them: Lays BLT chips.
Naturally I HAD to purchase them. They were the most profoundly delicious potato chips I'd ever eaten.
Sadly, I haven't seen them since.
Kind of like ol' Lane.
Que Sera, my darlings, que sera,
Hilda Stinson
Lane Stark: After Dark
Lane Stark: After Dark
Darkness began too seep into the car window as we sped along, the chauffeur and I.
He had been sent to pick me up to bring me back to Lane's house.
The house itself was situated at the top of a very long winding driveway. The driveway was so long that I had, in the past, used it as a track: it was two miles long.
When we pulled up, night had fallen with a great silence.
The door was opened for me and I was helped out and brought to the front door, which was immediately opened by the butler, a very attractive bald black man by the name of Jones.
"Hello, Jones."
"Madame."
"You can call me Hilda."
"Madame, right this way."
I sighed. One could never argue with a classically trained English butler. Even if he had grown up in Detroit.
Lane was in the study, sipping a sifter of cognac, wearing his robe and pajamas.
"Ah, Jones. Very good."
"Will sir be requiring anything else this evening?"
"Nope. Go on out, Jonesy."
Jones sniffed and departed.
"Hey sweetie!" I gave him a kiss, which was not returned in the usual passionate manner. "Uh, what's wrong?"
"Hilda. I have brought you out here today because, " he paused, "well."
"Out with it."
"I have to break up with you."
I was stunned.
"You see, I just don't want to be in a relationship right now."
"What?"
"I said,"
"I heard what you said." I was confused. And a little hurt. The last two weekends we had spent together had been sublime. He had made love to me like-well, like he really loved me.
"It's just that, I'm so busy with work. You know, the practice. And the book I'm writing." He paused meaningfully. "And I just can't handle the responsibility of it all."
"I see."
"But, maybe in three weeks or so, things will be looking up?"
At this point, I was furious.
I turned and I left.
I found Adams and had him drive me back home.
And then, I made my way out of this universe and into the one where I live with the Captain. It was there that I made my way over to Agnes's house to cry upon her shoulder.
Agnes had met Lane at a few of his parties, so she knew him.
When I arrived, she was a bit surprised to see me without him.
"Where's Lane?"
"He broke up with me."
"I knew it!" Her eyes flashed fire. "I knew he would break your heart."
"Oh Agnes," I sobbed freely.
"Come on in." She ushered me into the kitchen. "Tea?"
I blinked out a few tears and grabbed a tissue, blew my nose and nodded.
Over tea we discussed the relative merits of having a boyfriend in my own world.
It was true, the Captain and I, while happy together, can only be together in his world. I needed someone for my own world.
"Well, you know, you are so much prettier than that dentist!" Agnes exclaimed. "And, you know, men often have a hard time with that."
I just shook my head. I knew that Lane Stark, my millionaire dentist was the only man for me, but there was no way to convince him of that.
He had told me that it was the best sex he had ever had in his entire life, but that his practice and the book he was writing we all encompassing and that he didn't want a relationship.
"Who gives up the best sex of their life?" Agnes said.
I just shrugged.
Later when I spoke to my neighbor about it, she mentioned that he was falling hard and running scared.
I didn't know what to think.
The next time I saw him at the book club, I wondered why he was even there. Why had he come? He knew I would be there. But when I got up close to him, he looked at me as if he had driven 400 miles just to see me.
I ignored him and chatted with Brian, a veritable doppleganger for my old friend Andy.
And later, when I left, I hugged him and kissed his neck near his ear. Brian, in the vain hope of snagging me, trailed after.
I wondered if Lane would ever call me again.
Friday, June 29, 2012
At the Mall!
My interviewer kept me waiting. Much like the last one. Perhaps she thought it made her "cool". I dunno.
When she appeared, I stood up and followed her back to her office.
"Everything is in the back," she said cheerily. "Here, you can sit here," she positioned a chair diagonally across from her. "Do you mind closing the door," she smiled, "so we won't be disturbed?"
I got up and closed the door.
Across from me sat a petite woman, fifty-ish with a fluff of hair that was unnaturally red. Her face was obfuscated by layers of makeup. She had truly caked it on, with a trowel, no doubt.
The interview consisted of her droning on and on. It was clear that she liked the sound of her own voice. When her phone rang she said, "I have to take this."-What was this? Was she so on the pull that she couldn't NOT take a fucking phone call? "I'm in the middle of an interview, I'll call you back. " Hmm. That couldn't have gone to voice mail? Seriously?!
At the end, I foolishly went back to an item she had asked and clumsily tried to finish answering the question. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. But you know what? What would it be like to WORK for this person? So maybe not so dumb.
As she was walking me out, she admired my skirt and I in turn admired her dress. Whew. It was over. Fuckin' A!
Off to the mall! It was on the way home.
The Tucson Mall is located right off of Oracle (one of the main streets here) and is a huge behemoth for which all patrons should be provided with little vehicles to get around in. Because I walked that mall. I walked the fuck out of that mall looking for The Limited. When I finally found it (four hours later) I was greeted by my favorite salesperson, Isabelle.
"Hilda!"
"Izzy!"
We hugged.
And she helped me find some adorable sleeveless blouses (which are, in June, in Tucson, di riguer! It is fucking motherfucking hot and Idon'tknowifI willmakeitthoughthe summer!!!!)
On my way out, through Macy's the Captain caught up with me. He was wearing a navy Izod (TM) shirt and khaki shorts.
"Hilda."
"Mal. Love the Izod (TM)"
"What this ol' thing?" He grinned and then took me in his arms in a dip. Then he kissed me.
I pounded on his arm, "Let me up, I can't breathe." The blood was rushing to my head and my nose was starting to fill.
"Gorram it, I forgot."
"It's so hot," I said. "So, so, so, HOT!"
"I have something for you," he took my hand and led me out to the parking garage.
Sure enough, disguised as a regular ol' hybrid Honda was a shuttle. "Mal, where are we going?"
"You'll see."
The interior of the shuttle was deliciously cool and in the cup holders Mal had placed giant glasses of sweet mint tea, complete with straws. I sipped to taste and then just sucked it down.
"This is delicious! Did you make this?"
He nodded modestly. "Shoot, weren't no never mind. I thought you'd like it."
"Oh I do, I do."
"Now, off we go." He pressed a button and in a trice we were in a field of tall grass. Night had fallen and the stars were out full force.
"Pretty," I said, as I stepped out of the shuttle.
"Yah," he pulled me up to him for a deep and sensual kiss. "I've missed you, HIldy," his voice nearly broke.
"I've missed you too," I ran my hands over his body briefly.
"I've got something for you. Come," he grabbed my hand and let me a few feet away from the car.
It was a clear structure. Mal leaned down and pressed against the structure. A doorway appeared and we walked inside.
Inside the building was exactly the same as outside, except that there was a rather large bed with metal rails. Very old fashioned looking, it was.
Mal brought me over to the bed and said, "All of it, off. Now."
I shucked my clothes and lay on the bed provacatively. He remained clothed, kissed me deeply and pulled me to the edge of the bed, opened my legs and kneeled down in front of me, his mouth all over my inner thighs, his hands on my hips. He moved closer and closer to my little blonde vaggie, until his tongue was on me, moving back and forth over my clit, his finger inside of me, fucking me, over and over again until I began to sing my usual song, along with the urgent request that he fuck me.
"Fuck me now,"I begged.
He tore open his shorts and brought out his erection, stroking it he brought it closer and closer, until he had inserted it and was pumping into me. In. Out. Over and over until I heard him cry, "Hilda! Hilda! Oh!"
Spent, he pulled me up to his shoulder. I was to sleep on his magnificent chest, his arms around me.
The next morning, we woke at dawn (it was a glass house!) and Mal brought me back to Tucson for breakfast
We ended up eating at Denny's because they have the very best decaf in the world. Really. Try it. Truly.
Okay. It's because they were the only place OPEN so early. You try finding a restaurant at dawn!
I ordered french toast with strawberries and whipped cream.
Cap had steak and eggs (over easy-yuck!) with a side of bacon.
Between bites of the luscious french toast, which I had dipped in syrup, I kissed Mal (we were sitting next to each other).
"Mmm. Syrup!" He exclaimed as he put down his fork and turned his entire attention to kissing me. "Hilda, darlin' you are more delicious than the food."
I kissed back, also ignoring my food for the moment so that I could stroke Cap through his shorts. He was become-nay WAS hard. He was getting harder and harder.
"My poor darling," I rubbed vigorously.
He moaned.
"More coffee?" The waitress, young and stupid, had just arrived with the pot.
"Oh, it's decaf," I said, promptly returning my hands and attention back to my plate. My decaf was nearly full. Damn those waitresses! So efficient! "It's fine for now, Mal?"
He hid a smile. He was drinking the regular, his cup nearly empty. "Sure, fill-er up."
She obliged and we returned to our food.
"Whew! That was close!"
Cap laughed. "Eat your breakfast."
We did.
After Cap had paid the bill, we went back to my place. The late night, the early morning and the food all conspired with Morpheus so that the two of us were, upon crawling into bed, nearly comatose.
"Mal?"
"Yeah?"
"That was delicious!"
"You're delicious." He kissed me-and then, we both fell asleep.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson-Reynolds
Monday, June 4, 2012
Christmas Boogers
It was a fair day in the month of May when the Captain whisked me off to our annual book club barbecue.
As he buckled me into the new multidimensional vehicle he had just built, I sneezed violently.
"Bless you," Mal handed me a tissue.
I blew. Ew. Bloody. And green. Christmas boogers. Yes, I was still sick.
"We don't have to go if you're feelin' poorly," Mal said. "I reckon we could go back to that nice hotel we went to on our honeymoon, have the help fetch you some tea and-"
"Barbecue." I said. "Can't miss the barbecue, they're having elections."
He sighed. "All right, but I hate to see you so sick and out of bed, darlin," he grinned. "Actually, I hate to not have you in bed most times." He kissed me passionately, which left me out of breath, because, well, quite frankly, I needed to blow my nose again.
When we arrived, I had already gone through half a box of tissues and I wondered if I was going to make it. I stuffed the rest of the box into my enormously over sized purse, which I had affectionately nicknamed "da poisse".
The Captain unbuckled me and pulled me upright and off we went to the door.
"Hilda! Mal!" Tom and Agnes chorused as they opened the door. Tom wore a knee length plaid pair of shorts coupled with a pale yellow golf shirt. Agnes was in a form fitting green dress. She looked adorable.
"Hey, Agnes, Tom," I hugged and kissed them both, as the Captain shook Tom's hand and bussed Agnes on the cheek.
They led us to the backyard where there was a choice: mojitos or margaritas.
"Darling, " I addressed Agnes, "Could I possibly have some hot tea?" I pointed to my unfortunate nose, which was starting to go red.
"Oh yes, of course. Hilda! What are you doing out of bed?"
"Well, I can't miss the elections. I missed them last year and we wound up with Harriet Duchune as treasurer." Harriet had been well meaning, but has not been able to keep track of all the money and had wound up with the both of us needing to go over to her pack ratty little house to dig up all the accounts. It had not been a fun afternoon, lemme tell you.
"Yes, that was unfortunate." Agnes said darkly. "I will be right back, Hilda. Lemon?"
"Yes, please, with honey."
The back year was beehive of activity. Husbands roamed the lawn and commandeered the grill. Chicken, glazed with barbecue sauce lay sizzling on the grill, next to finely seasoned t-bone steaks and grilling vegetables.
On the main table, there was a huge green salad made with arugula, jicama and beets in a creamy french dressing, along with red potato salad, complete with celery seed, onion and celery, a veritable gourmet's delight. I sighed. If only I had an appetite.
The Captain's eyes widened with pleasure as he grabbed a plate and dug into the goodies. He was in 7th food heaven. I coughed, bringing up a big hock of green phlegm and then blew my nose. Bloody. More Christmas boogers. I waited anxiously for my tea.
When we finally sat down, the meeting came to order and nominations were made, seconded and people were voted into office. I felt vindicated that I had come out to make sure that there was never again another Harriet debacle.
"Hilda?"
"Yes, Agnes?"
"Good show."
"Indeedy," I agreed. I held out my cup as Agnes poured me more tea.
"Would you like a cupcake?" Agnes offered.
"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't at least taste one," I said.
"Very true," the Captain concurred as he stuffed another one into his mouth.
The cupcakes were chocolate and vanilla striped cake, stacked one layer upon the other with the fluffiest white icing ever-and most fortunately of all, they were tiny so that one may enjoy a tiny bit without dire caloric consequences. I took one from Agnes and bit into it: heaven. The cake was moist with a rich texture that was complimented by the creamy vanilla icing that had been whipped into lightness that tripped and skipped its way onto the tongue. Delicious. Again I coughed.
"Hilda, that does not sound good," Agnes poured me more tea as I dug into my purse for more tissues.
I sighed. "I know, Cap will have to whisk me back home to bed any minute now."
Agnes nodded vigorously. "The elections are done, so it's time to put you back in bed."
"I couldn't agree more," the Captain took me by the hand and led me back to his vehicle, as I continued to produce Christmas boogers by the bucketful.
"Good barbecue," I said.
"Yes," the Captain agreed and paused,"I wonder where they put Brutus?"
I laughed. "Probably in the basement with an entire chicken."
As if on cue, Brutus emerged, barking at the car as we started it up.
"Oh, there he is!" I blew my nose loudly.
"Well, I'll be hornswoggled," Mal unrolled the window and gave the beast a patting. "Hey boy," as Brutus tried to wiggle his way into the vehicle. "No, buddy, we have to go," Mal shoved Brutus' snout out of the window and promptly closed it.
"That was close," I said.
"Aw, he's a good boy," Mal pressed the lift off button.
"Yeah, except he thinks I'm a chicken."
"True," Mal laughed, "but then again, you do taste good."
In a trice we were back in my bedroom, with me lying on the bed, Mal kneeling between my thighs. "So much better than chicken," he licked me and fingered me until I came. "So nice," he said. "Now, get some rest." He got up off his knees and went into the kitchen to make me more tea.
I love my Captain.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
As he buckled me into the new multidimensional vehicle he had just built, I sneezed violently.
"Bless you," Mal handed me a tissue.
I blew. Ew. Bloody. And green. Christmas boogers. Yes, I was still sick.
"We don't have to go if you're feelin' poorly," Mal said. "I reckon we could go back to that nice hotel we went to on our honeymoon, have the help fetch you some tea and-"
"Barbecue." I said. "Can't miss the barbecue, they're having elections."
He sighed. "All right, but I hate to see you so sick and out of bed, darlin," he grinned. "Actually, I hate to not have you in bed most times." He kissed me passionately, which left me out of breath, because, well, quite frankly, I needed to blow my nose again.
When we arrived, I had already gone through half a box of tissues and I wondered if I was going to make it. I stuffed the rest of the box into my enormously over sized purse, which I had affectionately nicknamed "da poisse".
The Captain unbuckled me and pulled me upright and off we went to the door.
"Hilda! Mal!" Tom and Agnes chorused as they opened the door. Tom wore a knee length plaid pair of shorts coupled with a pale yellow golf shirt. Agnes was in a form fitting green dress. She looked adorable.
"Hey, Agnes, Tom," I hugged and kissed them both, as the Captain shook Tom's hand and bussed Agnes on the cheek.
They led us to the backyard where there was a choice: mojitos or margaritas.
"Darling, " I addressed Agnes, "Could I possibly have some hot tea?" I pointed to my unfortunate nose, which was starting to go red.
"Oh yes, of course. Hilda! What are you doing out of bed?"
"Well, I can't miss the elections. I missed them last year and we wound up with Harriet Duchune as treasurer." Harriet had been well meaning, but has not been able to keep track of all the money and had wound up with the both of us needing to go over to her pack ratty little house to dig up all the accounts. It had not been a fun afternoon, lemme tell you.
"Yes, that was unfortunate." Agnes said darkly. "I will be right back, Hilda. Lemon?"
"Yes, please, with honey."
The back year was beehive of activity. Husbands roamed the lawn and commandeered the grill. Chicken, glazed with barbecue sauce lay sizzling on the grill, next to finely seasoned t-bone steaks and grilling vegetables.
On the main table, there was a huge green salad made with arugula, jicama and beets in a creamy french dressing, along with red potato salad, complete with celery seed, onion and celery, a veritable gourmet's delight. I sighed. If only I had an appetite.
The Captain's eyes widened with pleasure as he grabbed a plate and dug into the goodies. He was in 7th food heaven. I coughed, bringing up a big hock of green phlegm and then blew my nose. Bloody. More Christmas boogers. I waited anxiously for my tea.
When we finally sat down, the meeting came to order and nominations were made, seconded and people were voted into office. I felt vindicated that I had come out to make sure that there was never again another Harriet debacle.
"Hilda?"
"Yes, Agnes?"
"Good show."
"Indeedy," I agreed. I held out my cup as Agnes poured me more tea.
"Would you like a cupcake?" Agnes offered.
"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't at least taste one," I said.
"Very true," the Captain concurred as he stuffed another one into his mouth.
The cupcakes were chocolate and vanilla striped cake, stacked one layer upon the other with the fluffiest white icing ever-and most fortunately of all, they were tiny so that one may enjoy a tiny bit without dire caloric consequences. I took one from Agnes and bit into it: heaven. The cake was moist with a rich texture that was complimented by the creamy vanilla icing that had been whipped into lightness that tripped and skipped its way onto the tongue. Delicious. Again I coughed.
"Hilda, that does not sound good," Agnes poured me more tea as I dug into my purse for more tissues.
I sighed. "I know, Cap will have to whisk me back home to bed any minute now."
Agnes nodded vigorously. "The elections are done, so it's time to put you back in bed."
"I couldn't agree more," the Captain took me by the hand and led me back to his vehicle, as I continued to produce Christmas boogers by the bucketful.
"Good barbecue," I said.
"Yes," the Captain agreed and paused,"I wonder where they put Brutus?"
I laughed. "Probably in the basement with an entire chicken."
As if on cue, Brutus emerged, barking at the car as we started it up.
"Oh, there he is!" I blew my nose loudly.
"Well, I'll be hornswoggled," Mal unrolled the window and gave the beast a patting. "Hey boy," as Brutus tried to wiggle his way into the vehicle. "No, buddy, we have to go," Mal shoved Brutus' snout out of the window and promptly closed it.
"That was close," I said.
"Aw, he's a good boy," Mal pressed the lift off button.
"Yeah, except he thinks I'm a chicken."
"True," Mal laughed, "but then again, you do taste good."
In a trice we were back in my bedroom, with me lying on the bed, Mal kneeling between my thighs. "So much better than chicken," he licked me and fingered me until I came. "So nice," he said. "Now, get some rest." He got up off his knees and went into the kitchen to make me more tea.
I love my Captain.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Friday, May 25, 2012
In Sickness..
I am, again sick. You think I would learn: neti pot EVERY DAY. Dammit.
Actually I hate that thing. It's uncomfortable. It's like having water up your nose when you're swimming and I HATE it. Okay? More hand sanitizer.
I am presently at the residence of Lane Stark, millionaire dentist extraordinaire.
Lane is freakishly tall and can balance me on one hand-no mean feat, as you know, Hilda is HEAVY, babies. Heavy. Weighing in at 143.5 pounds, she is-I am heavy, but Lane delights in my boobies. They are a veritable heaven that he cannot seem to keep his hands or mouth OFF of.
So today, as I was dispatching him off to work, I pressed a list into his hand of my sick need-ables. It read like this:
1. colloidial silver
2. cough medicine
3. chocolate cake with white icing
4. Chinese food. Because I am NOT going out today. I just don't wanna.
When he returned, I lay comatose under the sheet (it gets hot here in Tucson). I felt the his hands roving over my body and I lay still and allowed him to explore. He leaned down and kissed me. He was still completely dressed in the grey suit he had left in that morning. I pulled upon his tie and he rewarded me with a long open mouthed kiss.
"Hey, Baby, how was work?" I punctuated this with a cough.
"Eh," he placed his mouth on my right nipple and began to suck and lick.
I moaned.
"Mmm," he said as he brought his mouth over to the left nipple. "I missed you."
"I know!" I laughed. And then began to cough: I needed a tissue. Hack hack. Nose blow.
"All right, you may continue."
He stroked my belly and my inner thighs, following with his mouth. His fingers caressed my little blonde vaggie, followed by his mouth. He slowly licked me up and down and then took each lip in his mouth and sucked briefly before moving to my clit. He licked around and around slowly at first, and then picking up speed, he brought a finger to my opening as he licked me. And then, another. He proceeded to move his fingers in and out as he licked at my clit, back and forth, back and forth. He was rewarded with a song in no time.
And yes, he remained completely dressed.
And then there was Chinese food.
Okay: pork fried rice, cooked just right with tender little chunks of barbecued pork. And tender beef strips with little pea pods. Yum!
Dessert: #3. Tender chunks of chocolate cake with creamy not-too-sweet icing.
And then, there was Lane.
Lane might be described as ethnically Caucasian. He is blonde with blue eyes, rosebud lips, perfectly even white teeth (well, he IS after all, a dentist) and a body that could stop traffic. I mean, really he could, because he IS freakishly tall. When we are out, people stare. He has tiny pink nipples to which I give suck-and a big fat beautiful cock, which gets a similar treatment.
On that night, after dinner, I brought him back into bed, still completely dressed. I lay my hands upon his belt and unbelted it, unfastened his trousers and reached inside. He nearly sprang into my hands, he was so hard. My mouth caressed the giant head, which I could hardly stuff into my mouth and then I worked my tongue upon the small vein that bisected his shaft. Up and down and back and forth, my mouth then covering the head and I worked my hand up and down as I sucked and licked. I could feel him pulsing, his cum shot into my mouth, I swallowed and then I drank a Gatorade (TM) chaser, cucumber lime. Yum!
He kissed me and began going to work upon my nipples again, alternating with kisses as he stroked my inner thighs. Wetting his fingers in his mouth he brought them down to insure wetness as he rolled me onto my stomach and up on my knees, legs spread. He ran his hands over my little bottom and then kissed it. Holding my legs open, he brought his mouth under me and began to lick my pussy. Once I was dripping wet he tore himself away and up onto his knees, I felt his cock bouncing against my ass. He took hold of it and guided into my entry and began to fuck me as his hand stroked expertly against my clit. In and out, I could not take very much more, as he is, as they say: proportionate! Finally we both exploded and lay exhausted.
Lane is AWEsome!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Actually I hate that thing. It's uncomfortable. It's like having water up your nose when you're swimming and I HATE it. Okay? More hand sanitizer.
I am presently at the residence of Lane Stark, millionaire dentist extraordinaire.
Lane is freakishly tall and can balance me on one hand-no mean feat, as you know, Hilda is HEAVY, babies. Heavy. Weighing in at 143.5 pounds, she is-I am heavy, but Lane delights in my boobies. They are a veritable heaven that he cannot seem to keep his hands or mouth OFF of.
So today, as I was dispatching him off to work, I pressed a list into his hand of my sick need-ables. It read like this:
1. colloidial silver
2. cough medicine
3. chocolate cake with white icing
4. Chinese food. Because I am NOT going out today. I just don't wanna.
When he returned, I lay comatose under the sheet (it gets hot here in Tucson). I felt the his hands roving over my body and I lay still and allowed him to explore. He leaned down and kissed me. He was still completely dressed in the grey suit he had left in that morning. I pulled upon his tie and he rewarded me with a long open mouthed kiss.
"Hey, Baby, how was work?" I punctuated this with a cough.
"Eh," he placed his mouth on my right nipple and began to suck and lick.
I moaned.
"Mmm," he said as he brought his mouth over to the left nipple. "I missed you."
"I know!" I laughed. And then began to cough: I needed a tissue. Hack hack. Nose blow.
"All right, you may continue."
He stroked my belly and my inner thighs, following with his mouth. His fingers caressed my little blonde vaggie, followed by his mouth. He slowly licked me up and down and then took each lip in his mouth and sucked briefly before moving to my clit. He licked around and around slowly at first, and then picking up speed, he brought a finger to my opening as he licked me. And then, another. He proceeded to move his fingers in and out as he licked at my clit, back and forth, back and forth. He was rewarded with a song in no time.
And yes, he remained completely dressed.
And then there was Chinese food.
Okay: pork fried rice, cooked just right with tender little chunks of barbecued pork. And tender beef strips with little pea pods. Yum!
Dessert: #3. Tender chunks of chocolate cake with creamy not-too-sweet icing.
And then, there was Lane.
Lane might be described as ethnically Caucasian. He is blonde with blue eyes, rosebud lips, perfectly even white teeth (well, he IS after all, a dentist) and a body that could stop traffic. I mean, really he could, because he IS freakishly tall. When we are out, people stare. He has tiny pink nipples to which I give suck-and a big fat beautiful cock, which gets a similar treatment.
On that night, after dinner, I brought him back into bed, still completely dressed. I lay my hands upon his belt and unbelted it, unfastened his trousers and reached inside. He nearly sprang into my hands, he was so hard. My mouth caressed the giant head, which I could hardly stuff into my mouth and then I worked my tongue upon the small vein that bisected his shaft. Up and down and back and forth, my mouth then covering the head and I worked my hand up and down as I sucked and licked. I could feel him pulsing, his cum shot into my mouth, I swallowed and then I drank a Gatorade (TM) chaser, cucumber lime. Yum!
He kissed me and began going to work upon my nipples again, alternating with kisses as he stroked my inner thighs. Wetting his fingers in his mouth he brought them down to insure wetness as he rolled me onto my stomach and up on my knees, legs spread. He ran his hands over my little bottom and then kissed it. Holding my legs open, he brought his mouth under me and began to lick my pussy. Once I was dripping wet he tore himself away and up onto his knees, I felt his cock bouncing against my ass. He took hold of it and guided into my entry and began to fuck me as his hand stroked expertly against my clit. In and out, I could not take very much more, as he is, as they say: proportionate! Finally we both exploded and lay exhausted.
Lane is AWEsome!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, May 7, 2012
Here's to You, Opal Carew
I have become an addict.
An addict of erotica.
Why? Why not? Most of the books that I read on my phone (I know! I USED to be a veritable Luddite!!) are only a dollar. Some are good, some are not so good. And some? Inspiring.
Opal Carew has written not ONE but TWO books that include a threesome (a "Devil's Threeway" (as my brother Barney likes to put it) that include-gasp-identical twins!
In the first book I read (a full length-er) it was a romance about this woman who gets confused and thinks that her boyfriend is pretending to be a "stranger"-but guess what?! It's his twin brother! And he gives GREEEEAT! head. Yeah. True story. Well. What I mean is this: it's what really happens in THIS story. Wild, right? Then I read her story (a shortie) about aliens who abduct this woman and both end up being her soulmate! Wow! But one problem: in real life, if you think about it, it's siblings, going at it-with the same girl. My new bf would be appalled. Really (More on him later).
So, in deference to his sensibilities, I now present a new sitch: not brothers. No, merely a transporter accident that made ANOTHER one of him. And by him, I of course mean, my darling husband, the Captain.
"Hilda?" Mal woke me, his mouth pressed into my belly, his tongue sticking out and starting to lick lower and lower.
"Mmm. Keep doing what you do, Babylove," I encouraged him.
He moved to my inner thighs, licking and licking until his fingers parted my labia and ran his tongue up and down and back and forth, finally coming to my clit, his tongue flicking faster and faster, a finger jammed inside me, thrusting in and out, I moaned loudly-and finally, I sang the song Mal had come to know and love.
"That's it, Baby, come for me, oh, Baby, yes, yes," he moaned as he pulled back and brought his hard cock to my opening and thrust it inside. I pulsed around him as he moved in and out, faster and faster until he spent.
"Oh Mal, that was fantastic!" I kissed him enthusiastically.
He shrugged.
"Can we, can we do it again?" I asked breathlessly.
He glanced down at his deflated member, paused and strode to the telecom. "I have just the thing."
"What?"
"Well, you remember that episode of STTNG when it was discovered that Riker had had a transporter accident and another one of him appeared down on the planet while Riker himself materialized on the ship?"
"Remember? It was one of my favorite episodes. Wait..I didn't know you watched tv."
He shrugged. "Part of the time travel experience, you know."
"Ah."
"Well, it happened to me once."
"No!"
"Yeah. It did. I can't rightly say I was all that happy about it when it happened. Me-and another me. But we came to terms with it. He goes by the name of Colm, neither one of us liked the name Mel,"
I wrinkled my nose, "Me either. Makes you think of Mel's Diner."
"Exactly. So Colm and I came to an agreement to be "brothers"-but of course, we aren't. We're just me, but split in two. Hard to explain," he paused. "Anyway, I have a comm link to him," he grinned, "just for this situation."
The screen came up. It was Colm.
"Hi Hilda."
"Hi Colm."
"I have not yet had the pleasure of your acquaintance, I must confess, but Mal tells a mean story 'bout you, our Hilda, if I may be so bold as to call you."
"Indeedy!" I exclaimed, reasonably impressed-and turned on. "How soon can you get here?"
"In a trice, my dear, in a trice," he signed off-and within the hour, he arrived.
I gazed from Mal to Colm, dumbfounded at my luck. "You look, you look, exactly like him!" I exclaimed.
"Well, to be sure, I am him."
"And he is me," Mal chimed in.
"Oh. My."
Colm took me in his arms and kissed me.
"Colm!"
"Well, I reckon since I'm him anyway, but to be sure, Hildy, I never before ever kissed a woman as fine as yourself."
"Well, I have," Mal grinned, spun me about and kissed me just as hard.
I began to swoon. Mal picked me up and carried me to the bed, as Colm stripped off his shirt and lay beside me.
Together they removed my outer garments. Underneath I wore a pink lace bra with black insets-with matching panties (of course!)
"Hilda!" Colm breathed.
"Isn't she stunning? And look," Mal peeled off my panties, "blonde all the way down."
"That is-that is-very very nice," Colm breathed. "May I?" He placed himself between my thighs and began licking them in earnest as he fondled my little blonde vaggie. Then he brought his mouth to my pussy and began to lick. "OH! So sweet!" He exclaimed.
Mal removed my bra and began sucking on my nipples as Colm continued to lick my pussy.
"Mmm, switch?" Mal asked.
"No way! Hilda's about to come, aren't you, Darlin?"
I nodded.
Colm continued his ministrations as Mal kept licking and sucking at my breasts. Finally I could hold back no more and began to sing.
"That's it," Mal told Colm.
"Mmmm. Very very nice," Colm tore off his clothes and brought his cock up to my mouth. I peeled the foreskin back with my lips and began sucking up and down, licking at his frenum, swirling my mouth up and down, my hand following my mouth, I could feel him get harder and harder.
Meanwhile, Mal had brought his cock to my opening and pushed. "Oh, Hilda, Hilda," he moaned moving in and out me as I sucked on Colm's cock. They both began moaning at the same time and bam! Both came together.
"Hilda," Colm looked deeply into my eyes. "I,"
"I know," Mal said. "She knows. You don't have to say it."
"You love me."
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Food Glorious Food!
I had the great fortune to be taken out, downtown to where the drinks are cheap (as in made with cheap liquor) but the food is good.
We began at a bar that had-novelty of novelties- a slushy bar. So I ordered a slushy. And pretended to like it (I was, after all on a first date and on my best behavior). Then, we went to this restaurant where I got this amazing salad. I had asked to have them substitute lobster for ahi, but instead, they gave me BOTH! The greens were also amazing. None of that pale iceburg tha tends to go brown in a heartbeat! I wanted to marry the chef unseen.
Now, of course, at this point, you are wondering about my date. Okay. Blonde hair, blue eyes-and lah! Age appropriate! Very cute. He had just recently graduated from medical school (second career) and was lucky to have the night off.
When he drove me home, he told me that I was beautiful and that he had had a wonderful time.
But-the kiss-I have had more passionate kisses from gay boyfriends. Juicier. Damn.
What AM I going to do?
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Saturday, January 28, 2012
In Honor of MLK Part 3
My darling readers, I apologize for keeping you in suspense. It's been a busy week and well-I have been rather hesitant to write this because I am loathe to admit failure, but unfortunately, that is what happened.
Lawrence Kutner who was played by Kal Penn (some of you might remember him best as Kumar in the Harold and Kumar series of movies) had committed suicide soon after Obama had taken office so that his actor could go and and work in the Obama administration. In what capacity it was, I have forgotten, but given the way Obama has lain down and allowed himself to be gang raped repeatedly by Tea Partiers and their ilk, it is no wonder that ol' Kal went back to making movies.
In order to get to Dr. Kutner, Cap and I had to travel back in time to find him.
And there he was: geekily outfitted in sneakers and a lab coat, his dark skin a temptation that beckoned to me; I approached.
He didn't say a word as I passed.
Was Lawrence Kutner afraid of women?
I turned and watched his white coated figure exit the hospital.
Determinedly, I turned around and caught up to him.
I touched his sleeve.
He turned and stopped walking, his eyes wide with surprise. "Can I help you? Are you the family?"
"The family?"
"Of the patient."
"What? Oh. Right. No. No. I'm," I dropped my eyes, "I'm Hilda."
"Hi Hilda, what can I do for you?" He failed to see my desire.
"Dr. Kutner," I began. Who knew that he had so little experience with women?
"Yes?"
"You work with Dr. House. I've long been an admirer."
"Oh. House's fan club. Did he cure you of something?"
"Uh, no." Dammit! This was not going well. So I went with this: "Would you like to have coffee with me? I find you absolutely charming."
His eyes widened with surprise-and then, pleasure. "Sure!" Then he frowned. "How do you know I'm charming?"
"I've seen you on tv," I wanted to say, but this would not register with him, as his reality was not mine, so I said, "I saw you out with House-and, I, I followed you and found out who you were."
"How do you know House?"
Dammit! "Um, well, you know, he's famous. He cured my cousin." Jesus! "I just happened to be out one day and saw him with you, " I dropped my eyes, "and uh, I thought you were cute."
"Really? Me?" He looked jazzed. "Wow. Okay, yeah, let's go have coffee," he seemed completely unfazed that I basically had just told him I was stalking him. "You are gorgeous!" He exclaimed.
"Thank you," I said.
We went to Starbucks(TM) and ordered coffee. Well, okay, I had green tea. It was lousy.
"So, do you live around here?"
"Yeah, my apartment is right around here."
"Could we go there?"
He was stunned. "Yeah!"
We took his car and drove to his place. He had a cornucopia of toys, most of them of the sci-fi persuasion and his bed was unmade.
"Nice place," I said. "A bit messy. Perhaps I could fix you up with Consuelo. She does a mean clean."
"What do you mean, messy?" His eyes narrowed.
"It's just, you know, I bit cluttered."
"Cluttered?!"
"Yeah."
At this point, he got rather pissy. And it became readily apparent that there was reason Lawrence Kutner was finding it rather difficult to get laid.
I was not going to put up with his attitude.
"Okay, well, I have to go," I said.
I left, radioed the Captain and he picked me up.
"How was it?" he said eagerly.
"It wasn't," I said. "There's a reason why Lawrence Kutner is single."
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
In Honor of MLK Part 2
The next part of the plan was to jet over to see Tom and Agnes.
They met us at the door.
"Happy, MLK!" Tom ejaculated.
"Happy MLK," we chorused back.
"Now you take good care of my Hilda," Mal said to Tom.
"And you of my Agnes!"
Tom wore a golf shirt and matching shorts. He lead me into the guest bedroom and lay me down upon the bed.
"I've been waiting for this all year!" He exclaimed as he ripped off his clothes, revealing an erection that one would, if one could, write home about.
"Very nice," I said, fondling his cock. I could barely get my hand around it, and as I drew my hand back the foreskin peeled back beautifully. This, I would have to suck.
And so I did.
"Hilda, oh Hilda!" He moaned.
"You're not going to come or anything, are you?"
"I'm close."
I stopped.
"Why did you stop?"
"Because we have to fuck."
"Right. Okay. Give me a minute." He appeared to be thinking very hard about dead puppies.
"Better?"
"Yes."
He tore off my clothes, opened my legs and began to lick my little blonde vaggie. "This is delicious," he said.
"Mmm. Feels very nice," I said. "You may fuck me now."
He disengaged his mouth and took his cock in hand, "You sure you're ready?"
"Mhumm," I murmured.
He pressed the tip to my opening and pushed.
And then again.
Finally it went in.
And we were fucking.
It was glorious.
Stay tuned for part three.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, January 16, 2012
In Honor of MLK Part 1
What most people don't know about MLK is that he was an inveterate horn dog. Yes. It's true. On the day he died he slept with three women. Except, really, people, let's divest ourselves of THAT euphemism: he fucked. How's that? Better? I thought so.
The brother was ahead of his time in so many ways. It is almost as if he had come from a distant future to save us all from our sins. He had a dream: that we would all live in peace and harmony. And that black men could fuck white women with impunity. I do believe we have mission accomplished on that score, after all, haven't we all seen the Kim K. vid of her sucking the dick of a fine black brutha? (And to be fair, he DID go down on her, but not for nearly long enough, let us be open about THAT too.)
The Plan:
In the spirit of MLK, I, Hilda Stinson-Reynolds will do the impossible: I shall fuck three men in one day. How d'ya like that, Mista' King?
I shall begin with, of course, the most obvious, my darling space pirating husband, Captain Malcolm Reynolds! Holla!
And then, I shall with the permission of my besty, take hubby down to the mat, so to speak. (And she of course, will get to have MY darling Mal! Fair is fair!)
And last? That dishy Indian diagnostician. True, he's a little taller than the average Injun, but he's geeky enough. I could-and I will tackle HIM. And he'll like it. Dammit. (How do I know HIM? Oh. Darlin', that Kal Penn gets AROUND, lemme tell you!)
The Execution:
"Mal," I rolled over into his hard hard body and ran my hand to its hardest soft spot.
"Hilda," he groaned as I lowered my mouth onto his member.
Up down up down up. My hand moving in unison with my mouth, my tongue reaching and flicking his frenulum and the way I would peel back his foreskin with my mouth. The Captain became harder and harder.
"Oh, oh, I'm gon' come, oh. OH." He pulled away from me and kissed me firmly. "I know what you need." He traced the line of my nipples and began to lick at them. Long luxuriant licks, around and around, until I could no longer bear it and he began to work his way down my stomach until finally, he tongue was at my pudenda and then, my clit. He briefly stopped to suck upon my labia majora, which was freshly hairless thanks to the European Wax Center (TM) and then, back to my clit which he licked back and forth, over and over until I came.
That finished, brought himself over me and inserted his member SSSSLOOOWLY into me as he kissed me, tongue in my mouth. And then, he began to fuck in earnest. Harder and harder, he took my my wrists and held them down above my head with one hand, with the other, he rubbed his thumb over my clit as he fucked me until, finally, both of us came, together.
He made pancakes out of nut flour (I am off carbs), we ate, and then, blissfully, we went back to sleep.
As for the rest of my MLK day tale: stay tuned sports fans.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
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