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Chapter 3: Stephanie's mom gets down and Tim fucks up.By LiminallySpaced. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.A little while back, on one of the warmer days that pop up in the early spring, I had gone out for a run. I liked running. It was a great way to clear my head of all the usual junk that weighs heavily on the mind of a high school senior. It was also the only other method of stress relief that worked besides jerking off, which on that day I had made a conscious attempt not to do.Running didn't stop my mind from still casually wandering in a more hormone-inspired direction, however. I thought about the color of lip gloss Suzie Travino wore to school the other day, and how hot it was that those same lips came so close to sucking on my friend Tara's cunt. As straight-laced and book minded as they come, the thought that even the class valedictorian was no match for Tara's dark eyes and oozing sexuality was very arousing. It was even more arousing to wonder whether Suzie's boyfriend Mike knew his girlfriend might be a "two sport athlete."Mostly, though, my dirty mind wandered to Sarah, the gorgeous redhead who lived next door, and who was the object of all of my strongest unrequited affection. I had considered asking her to prom, but seeing as we hardly knew each other, I assumed it was a long shot at best. Still, seeing her in a form fitting prom dress, fiery hair done up, perfect breasts held high by colorful fabric, flawless lipstick accenting her luminescent smile, would be a highlight, whether she was there with me, or with someone else. I thought about who that someone else might be, and whether he might be lucky enough to see her prom dress bunched up on his floor, or feel her perfectly painted lips slide up and down his cock.Tired and sweaty, I returned home to find my front door locked. I patted myself down, but in my haste to get out the door, I had once again forgotten my keys. Looking out to the street I saw that Sandy and Don's car was parked in its usual spot, so I decided to make my way up to their unit.Knocking once, there was no answer. I tried the handle, and found it was locked as well. Normally I would have just found somewhere else to go, but my legs were aching, I desperately needed a glass of water, and they had given me an open invitation to their home, whether or not they were there. That was enough justification for my sweaty, over-exerted brain, so I grabbed the key under the mat and went in.The house was quiet. I knew Stephanie would be at work, and I assumed Sandy and Don had taken their other car out together. The front door opened into the kitchen, so I wandered toward the sink in search of water. Grabbing a pint glass, I held it under the faucet, my hand on the knob, but just before I turned it, my ears perked up as a long moan floated down the hallway. A deep moan. A man's moan. I froze.Another deep moan, longer this time.Glass still in hand, I moved silent toward the doorway that led to the hall, and paused. Another moan, punctuated with a long, drawn out "Fuck," followed closely by a smokey, feminine voice asking "yeah, does that feel good?"That was definitely Sandy's voice.I could have left. I SHOULD have left. I should have quietly left them to their privacy and waited outside for Kelly to come home and let me in. That's what a rational mind would do. I, however, was not thinking rationally. Between my post-run exhaustion and the growing tightness in my shorts, my voyeuristic, animal brain took over, and I slowly, quietly started my way down the hallway toward the sound, cock first.The moans continued as I moved silently through the darkened hallway, my body vibrating at the forbidden thrill of what I was doing. Sandy's encouraging dirty talk continued guiding me toward the living room entryway."Umm yeah, you like that, don't you?" she cooed. A long masculine moan answered. My gaze rounded the slight corner of the entryway, falling into the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks. My awkward angle caused the majority of the scene to be obscured, but what I could see were bare legs, a man's legs, splayed out from the edge of a comfortable easy chair.Between those legs knelt Sandy.Her blonde hair done up in a messy bun that reminded me of Stephanie, Sandy knelt on a pillow, wearing nothing but a black G-string. Her hands were slowly running up and down the considerable length of a thick, hard cock. Glistening and wet, she treated this cock like it was a work of art, cooing as her hands explored every ridge and bump, periodically encouraging a sudden throb followed by a pleasurable grunt. As the work of her gliding hands drew out another deep, prolonged moan of pleasure, a big, warm smile formed on her lips. The same big, warm smile I had seen countless times at neighborhood cookouts, or hanging out in the kitchen with my step mom Kelly. Her lips formed that smile, and then opened wide as she lowered her head, taking the bulbous tip of the glistening cock into her mouth. He gasped. She moaned.Eyes closed as she savored the feeling of this big, thick piece of meat in her mouth, her head started to bob up and down in time with her stroking hands. They moved slowly, as one, twisting and sucking, accenting the pattern with a slight slurping sound whenever she reached the tip. Masculine moans mixed with the higher-pitched moans of her equal pleasure. It was quite clear that Sandy, the friendly housewife, genuinely loved to suck cock. My own cock was hard and desperate for release as it throbbed against the confines of my tight athletic shorts.Her mouth came off the end of his cock with a pop, and she smiled at him while still stroking. Then, removing her hands, she squeezed both of his big balls gently, and took the entire length of cock right down her throat. I almost audibly gasped, but I stopped myself. My hand drifted down and squeezed my full balls.A loud masculine moan, and a long "Fuck me!" followed as she slid back up to the tip, rolling her tongue around the head, then sinking the big cock all the way down her throat a second, third, fourth, fifth time.This was an intensely intimate experience between two adults. I knew I did not belong there, but I was completely entranced. Of course Sandy was a sexual person, she and Don had a very flirtatious relationship full of ass pinches and P D A, but my whole being was transfixed by the knowledge that this sweet woman could deepthroat a cock like a pro. I should have left, but instead I stayed, and continued rubbing my hard dick through my shorts.In my time as a horned-up virgin, I had spent many, many hours masturbating, becoming fluent in all manner of pornography. As anyone does, I developed my own fetishes and preferences for the kinds of acts and images that really got me going. After discovering a love for large, natural breasts and oral sex videos, I surprised myself the night an extra intense orgasm revealed to me an intense preference for cumshots and facials. The one act that was an absolute favorite of mine, however, was one that combined all of my fairly vanilla fetishes into one: when a woman would wrap her luscious breasts around a hard, wet cock, and fuck it with her tight cleavage until the inevitable white eruption.This is why I didn't leave. Because after a final, long sheathing with her throat that left that large cock coated in thick saliva still stringing to her lip, Sandy rose up higher, leaned in, and with a broad, lusty smile squeezed her buoyant tits around that cock, and started to slowly slide them up and down. This is why, watching my upstairs neighbor, the organizer of the soccer team bake sale, fuck this long, throbbing cock between her heavy mature tits, I reached into my pants, released my own cock, and started stroking along in time.Sandy was moaning with every hot stroke. A smile on her face, she kept eye contact with her obscured partner as her body writhed up and down, milking this cock closer and closer toward orgasm. She cooed when the fat, straining head would peek out through her cleavage on the down stroke, and occasionally she would dip her tongue down and lick it, smiling that lusty smile every time. Don was a lucky man.The masculine moans were getting longer and louder. Those legs she knelt between started to twitch and stretch. Sandy picked up her pace. So did I. I was awash with forbidden eroticism, not only in what I was witnessing, but in the danger inherent in what I was doing. I should stop. Now.All reason left my mind as they reached a fever pitch, both breaths growing rabid and wanton. He was close. So was I.It was then that he suddenly pushed Sandy back and stood up, his cock proud and dominant, reaching toward her gasping face. She sank back on her heels and looked up at him. I followed her eyes up, and internally gasped myself as I saw the face of the man standing over her, a man who was most definitely not her husband Don!With one of her hands caressing his swollen balls while the other milked his straining cock, Sandy tipped her head back. She started furiously stroking, and the mystery man began grunting and shaking, all the while Sandy whispered erotic words of encouragement."That's it, cum for me,” My pace increased, my heart a jackhammer in my chest and in my cock.“ give it to me, give me your load,” The man reached his boiling point, and put his free hand on the side of her head to steady himself. The hand on his cock was a blur, and a long, drawn out moan snaked out of his throat just as Sandy gave one final instruction: "Cum for me."Eyes still locked onto his, she opened her mouth wide as the first jet of hot love careened out of his pulsing cockhead, drawing a long, white slash from her chin to her hairline.Her open mouth smiled and she squealed in excitement as two, three, four, five, thick ropes of cum splattered recklessly into her mouth and onto her lips and chin.Remembering the pint glass in my hand, I quickly placed it over the head of my screaming prick as the sight of Sandy dripping in cum triggered my own orgasm. Pleasure surged through me as I painted the inside of the glass, desperately trying to stay silent as I throbbed through one of the most intense orgasms of my life.I looked back at the semen-splattered Sandy, thick strands dripping off her chin onto the swell of her fantastic breasts. She closed her cum-filled mouth, and I saw her throat pulse as she swallowed. She then took his still spasming cock into her mouth and lovingly sucked him clean as his breathing began its trek back to normalcy.I too was coming down, and in a haze I took one final look at this gorgeous, love-stained creature, so satisfied with a job well done.I froze as I heard a third voice."Oh my God, baby, that was so fucking hot" bellowed out from a place in the room I couldn't see. Then, stepping into my eye line was Don, her husband! He was just as naked as the others, his own generously-sized cock fresh and erect. In his hands was a video camera.He took his time recording the scene, stroking himself slowly, with Sandy making sure to show off her glistening face and assets for his lens. Then he passed off filming duties to the mystery man and placed his hands lovingly on her head. Her hands ran up and down his legs, electric with lust, and they both moaned as he slid his cock between her still-cum-covered lips and began slowly thrusting.In an abrupt moment of post-nut clarity, I realized I needed to get out of there now. Quietly, but quickly, I shuffled my way back down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out the front door, making sure it was locked as I left. Hustling my way outside I took a moment to reflect on what I had just seen. Not only was Stephanie's mom Sandy, the unassuming housewife, a skilled and passionate cocksucker and a total fiend for cum, but she and her husband Don seemed to be extremely open with their sex life, including a third person, as well as recording highly explicit pornographic video of the event.I shouldn't know this. No one should know this. I wanted to see those videos. What other depraved things did Don and Sandy get up to behind closed doors? No, it wasn't my business. It was no one's business!I looked down at the pint glass still in my hand, the bottom third frosted with the pearly memories of what I had witnessed.My cock twitched.That first study session with Stephanie was tough. The subject wasn't the problem, that was no sweat, it was just that I was having a hard time focusing. We were sitting in the very living room where I watched her mom throat some stranger's huge cock, and every time she smiled or addressed me, all I could picture was her on her knees, huge tits out, her smiling face drenched in jizz. It was distracting, to say the least.Citing my allergy to cats as an excuse, I asked if there was another room we might be able to work in. After a short thought, Stephanie smiled wryly and said "follow me. But don't get any ideas."We entered her bedroom.Her room was decorated in the usual contradictions of a college-aged girl living in the home she grew up in. Philosophy text book here, old teeny bopper magazine there, etc. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on her bed right as Stephanie quickly shut the drawer of the bedside table.That bed. Sheets unmade and wild, I imagined her kicking them into a frenzy as her legs flailed from one of the many orgasms I've heard slip down through the cracks in her floor and into my bedroom down below. And what was in that drawer that she needed to shut so quickly?"Trying to hide your vibrator?" I said, seeing an opening to strike and taking it.She snorted a bit incredulously, but I swore I saw some color rush into her cheeks. "You wish, perv," she said, finally.Though her bedroom provided its own unique set of distractions we managed to get work done. We worked well together, and it began a trend where three times a week we'd meet in her room to study. The more time we spent together, the more her guard came down, and we actually got to know each other as people. Our sessions seemed to get longer, with more and more time spent just hanging out together.Don't get me wrong, every now and then, when Stephanie was getting bored with the material, she'd drop a bra strap, or reach over to get something in a way that made her perfect, athletic ass rise like Kilimanjaro over the Serengeti just to fuck with me, but generally we had a good time. Dare I say we were becoming friends.In the following weeks, Tara continued her words of caution, and almost shit her pants when I told her why I was so distracted that first time. She was very interested in the details, especially those of Don's cock, and was effusive in her appreciation for Sandy's sexual confidence. I knew it was turning her on, and I knew she'd be enjoying that one-two-three, one-two-three vibration pattern later that night while thinking about it.Rachel and I still talked, but I'd be lying if I said I was thinking about her that often. I knew her prom was coming up, occurring a few weeks before my prom, and honestly I was dreading it. Despite the thought of seeing those massive mammaries of hers in a slinky prom dress, I wasn't expecting to have much fun at a prom where I would know exactly zero other people. I thought about that same feeling for Stephanie as my prom date, and just hoped that our new found friendship would be enough to help her enjoy the night.As time passed, I started to feel bad about our arrangement. It was a request made as a power play, and now that I had gotten to know her I felt bad that I was exploiting her. At the same time, however, I was desperate to see her lithe, tanned body move hypnotically on the dance floor, to put my hands on her hips as we slow danced. I felt bad, but these thoughts of Stephanie still occupied my fantasies as I stroked myself off at night, especially the nights when I'd get home from a study session, only to hear those moans, and that short-short-long cry of release trickle down into my room as the night grew longer. What can I say: I was a teenage boy; full of hormonal contradictions.Our final study session arrived, and we both knew Stephanie was ready. Her test was that coming Friday, the same day as Rachel's prom, and so after our final run through of the material, we decided to have a bit of a celebration. Her parents were gone for the evening, so out came the glasses, and along with it the booze. We were nice and relaxed, sitting on opposite ends of the living room couch, and as we got comfortably buzzed, our conversation began to get more revealing. The booze had put me in a mood, and she got a good chuckle listening to me moan about having to go to Rachel's prom."You know, I don't get you, TImmy," She remarked, stretching out her long legs towards me on the couch. She was wearing those loose-fitting short shorts, and they bunched up around her crotch, so I could see every inch of those drool-worthy stems. The way they gleamed in the light implied they were freshly shaved and moisturized. They were a work of art."Oh?" I asked."Yeah," she said, wiggling the toes on her sock-covered feet, "you've got a date; you've got Two dates; and you're still acting like you're the last single person on the planet.""Yeah two dates; single-evening dates; one with a church girl I'm not even really interested in, and the other is basically a joke. It's not exactly like my love life is on fire,” I trailed off.Stephanie took a drink, her eyes lingering on her glass momentarily."What about that girl Tara?" she asked, her eyes flicking back up at me intently."What about her?""Have you guys ever hooked up?" Her legs shifted together slightly as she asked.The image of my spent cock in my hand, and a dash of my cum dripping on Tara's perfect breast flashed before my eyes. I swallowed hard, and answered "No."Stephanie seemed to relax a bit as she said "that's too bad; she's a hottie.""She's one of my best friends. Plus, she's got plenty of better people than me to choose from." I took a big gulp from my drink, which was already making me quite warm inside. "I'm just really bad at all that stuff. My virginity is destined to remain intact for a long time."Stephanie snickered.Oh fuck, what did I just say? Goddamnit I just gave Stephanie some epic ammo. I winced, waiting for her to deliver a scud missile of tease and torment. I waited, but all that came was a long silence. She had the upper hand and didn't take it. Seizing this rare moment, I changed the subject."What about you?" I asked. One long leg bent up toward her stomach, almost in defense."What ABOUT me?""Are you seeing anyone? I've never seen you with a guy around here or anything, "Stephanie chortled in laughter, "Oh God. I would never bring anybody here in a million years. Not with My parents around, ""No?""No way," she shook her head, laughing, "they seem pretty cool and casual, but they're really uptight when it comes to sex."The image of Stephanie's mom Sandy sucking her husband's dick on camera while dripping with another man's cum flashed in my mind. My dick twitched."Oh yeah?"

Everyone's favourite gnostic raconteur, Miguel Conner, returns to the show this week to discuss his latest book, The Occult Elvis. The book becomes an entryway into a wide-ranging discussion on the role of shamans, cultural transformation, fate and the destiny of America. (Mere trifles!) Timestamps 00:00 Introduction to the Occult Elvis 04:03 The Spirituality of Rock Music 07:54 Elvis as a Magician and Shaman 11:52 The Blue Light Phenomenon 15:54 Elvis's Influence on American Identity 19:53 Elvis's Mystical Interests and Books 23:47 The Legacy of Elvis in Modern Culture 34:37 Exploring Fate and Free Will 37:56 The Wounded Healer: Elvis and Addiction 40:06 The Search for Self: Elvis's Identity Crisis 46:52 Elvis as a Cultural Trickster 51:10 The Archetype of the Shaman in Modern Fame 57:52 Elvis: A Reflection of Post-War America Show Notes Get the book. Miguel's author website. Miguel on Substack.

Year C – Fourth Sunday in Lent – March 30, 2025 Pastor Megan Floyd Luke 15:1-3; 11b-32   Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our Lord, Jesus Christ, whose abundant grace makes our repentance possible. Amen. *** This fellow welcomes sinners and tax collectors… and eats with them. I don't know what these particular sinners did for the Pharisees to label them as such… but the tax collectors worked for the Roman government… they were agents for the Empire… For the average Jewish person, the tax collectors were the people who were actively working against your livelihood and your well-being. They were… not welcome at any decent Jewish person's table… so the fact that this fellow, Jesus, welcomed tax collectors and ate with them is… well… it's pretty offensive. This fellow… Jesus… he sure is a troublemaker… he is always getting the Pharisees grumbling. And so, Jesus responds to their grumbling with a parable that is even more offensive… on so many levels… It has a terrible, manipulative son who demands that his father give him his inheritance as if his father is dead to him… and then squanders all the money on prostitutes and ends up starving, surrounded by pigs… and… he is not sorry about what he did. He is not full of remorse… he does not repent, and then return to his father… What drives him to return home… is that he is hungry, and he thinks he can con his dad into feeding him again. But the hardest thing to admit is that perhaps… the greatest offense in this story… is that the father's grace is so freely and abundantly given. Yes, it is grace… that is most offensive here. *** I confess to you… that I continually find myself identifying with the older brother. I cannot help my instinctual reaction and impulse that there must be some divine consequence for the actions of the younger son… I cannot help but overlay the sin of the younger brother with examples of offensive sin in our modern time… I see in him those who are, today, manipulative and conniving, those who seize power and use it to increase the exploitation of the poor, the marginalized, and the vulnerable. I see in him those who would squander the wealth and prosperity of generations for their own gain… and those who are so blinded by prejudice and a fear of the ‘other' that they are dismantling the work toward equality and equity that others have worked and died for… and I am offended. I am offended at what Jesus' story teaches us about God… that God's arms are open wide and full of love and grace for all… even the unrepentant sinners. Even though I am well-versed in how much God proclaims unconditional love for all. I am still offended… this is my sin. And yet, I so deeply empathize with the hurt the older brother feels when he realizes there is a celebration happening, and he's not part of it. I get angry… I confess this to you… I am offended by this story. Which, of course, means that I am just as much in need of forgiveness and grace as either one of these brothers… So… if you don't mind, I'm going to preach to myself here for a few minutes because I am, clearly, captive to my sin and in need of some good news… *** During Lent, we've been paying close attention to God's urgent call to return… return to the Lord, repent… change your heart… change your mind, and turn your attention back to God and God's love for you. And what this parable today illustrates for us is that… we cannot truly repent until we have received, and accepted, God's grace and love… The younger son… as I said earlier… what drove him back to his father was not remorse… it was hunger. Had he found a meal, he would likely not have gone back. Only when he showed up and realized that his father had never stopped searching for him… never stopped loving him… that his father's arms were open wide and full of mercy and grace… Only then… did this young son's heart soften… only then did the transformative power of genuine repentance go to work on him. Grace is not a reward for our repentance. Grace… makes our repentance possible. …and our repentance itself is a loving gift from God, given to help us heal… given so that we can be made whole. Our repentance, made possible through grace, transforms our inward concern for our own needs and gain… into outward love for others and their well-being. Our ability to humbly come before God and confess that we have strayed from the way Jesus called us to go… to come before God and confess our sin… is only possible… because we have first received… grace. God is not trying to manipulate us into a fake apology or a disingenuous change in behavior… the offer of grace is not coercion… God offers us this grace freely… and in so doing, God is creating the conditions for us to be made new. God will not settle for anything less than a full transformation… a full redemption… a new creation. But… for this to be so… we must hear this good news first… God loves you, God forgives you, and God's arms are open wide, and full of mercy and grace, waiting for you to come home. And once we are home, safe in God's embrace… only then, can we begin to heal from our sin… to be healed and made whole. Bathed in mercy and grace, washed in love, we are made new, and therefore, just as we are a new creation in Christ, we cannot help but look at our neighbors in a new way… We cannot help but see God's love in them, see the dignity and value in all people, even those we have sinned against… in thought, word, or deed …and yes, even those who have sinned against us. We cannot love the world as God so loves the world… until we allow God's grace to heal our hearts… and to confess that we are as much in need of that grace and healing as anyone else. We are as much in need of that grace and healing as the lost and wayward children, the con artists, the scoundrels, those who are collaborating with the Empire, and yes… even the resentful older brothers… …we ALL need God's grace and healing… God's unfair and offensive, extravagant and boundless grace… I need to hear this every day… God loves me… God forgives me… and God's arms are open wide and full of grace. *** I still can't help but empathize with that older brother and the hurt he must have felt when he realized he was not included in the celebration. He was so wound up about who is deserving of his father's love… who is acceptable, who is worthy, who is deserving of mercy… that he refused to go into the celebration. He was so convinced of his own righteousness, and the wrongness of his brother, that he missed the party. I get it. I understand how he could feel this way… and I also understand that he is missing the point. You see, I don't read this celebration as an allegory for eternal life with God… The celebration is a real party, and it's happening now… it is our joyful response to our transformation – the new life and the new creation that comes from true repentance… and for the grace that makes it possible… right here and now… every day. The offensive celebration… is for the healing of a heart that has gone astray! For once, we were lost… and now we are found! The older brother has been with the father all this time… but he, too, has let his heart go astray… he has taken his position in his father's house for granted, and has failed to return, again and again, to his father's embrace of love and grace… he failed to allow that grace to continually renew and re-create his heart. The older brother has fallen captive to his sin, and he made it all about himself… saying to his father… but what have you done for me? But his father… who loves him… who forgives him… says to his son, my arms are open wide for you too, and full of grace, just as they have always been… come, and be made new. Come into my grace… let it go to work on your heart, and be transformed by my love… and then, my child… you, who have been made new, will have no other response but to rejoice. And so, Lord, I pray to you… guide me… guide us… every day… into your transformative embrace, and let us celebrate with you. Amen.

Homily of Fr. Michael P. O'Connor from Mass on March 24, 2025 at Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St. Louis, MS. Referenced Readings: 2 Kgs 5:1-15ab Lk 4:24-30

Here is the second half of my "Danversation" with longtime Glouster, MA songwriter, performer & concert production & booking manager Dan King! On this episode, we talk some more music, influences — and Dan shares some great stories involving Tom Brady, Keith Richards, Whoopi Goldberg & more!You'll hear as we take a listen to a couple tracks from Dan's 2001 debut solo record Time Move Over. Dan shares his thoughts on the following tracks:"City Boy" from Time Move Over"Never Once" from Time Move Over"Summer Love" from Two Kinds of Mind (2003; remastered 2009)"Low Diver" from In the Sun EP (2017)"Baudelaire" from Bathed in Dream Light EP (2016)"Blue Sky Sundown" (live version first appears on Western Color; later & first studio recording on The Bandit Kings' 2011 record Epic Hello; again with K.B.M.G. 2013 EP Blue Sky Sundown)For the highest quality version of these & all Dan King songs, please head to Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, www.dankingandfriends.com, or wherever you stream or download music! (The song previews of "City Boy" and "Never Once," heard on this episode, are played directly through my recording equipment.)Visit www.dankingandfriends.com to learn more about the Dan King story in words, photos, merchandise and more.Thanks for listening & subscribing to the Dan Time Podcast! dantimepod@gmail.com@dantimepod across the socials

"When you think of Cape Ann music, you think of Dan King" -Greg Verga, Mayor of Glouscester, MAMy guest this week has released nearly 20 records over a storied 30-plus year songwriting career - writing, recording and performing music. A veteran folk artist, Dan King has also spent many years working in management, booking and concert production. Over this two-part conversation, we explore Dan's solo LPs, EPs, and studio & live releases with the supergroup KBMG, The Bandit Kings (2010-13) & The Prolz (1996-97).You'll also hear a preview of the single "Darling Voices" from his most recent solo effort, Ocean and Rose.All Dan King music is available on Apple Music, Spotify, YouTube and anywhere you discover new artists!Search under these names and titles:-DAN KING (Ocean and Rose; You're Not Alone; Bathed in Dream Light EP; In the Sun EP; Light City Live; Wooly Mammoth and Hi N Dry; Two Kinds of Mind; Time Move Over - plus singles)-THE BANDIT KINGS (III; Epic Hello; Precious Stones)-KBMG (Dan King, David Brown, Dave Mattacks, Wolf Ginandes) - Live at ‘Chianti'; It's A Beautiful World; Blue Sky Sundown; Western ColorStay tuned later this week for PART II with Dan King!www.dankingandfriends.com@dankingmusic - social media

Have you ever bathed with your parents? We also explore Amish bathing habits --we went on a journey. BIG FAT MOVIE REVIEW: "A Real Pain," and Alan Cumming on this season of "The Traitors" Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Send us a textIn today's message we will see Jesus humbling Himself and showing us the attitude of Servant Leadership.  This is a concept that is shown by Jesus the whole time He is here on earth.  He was humble in the fact that the God who created everything came to earth to die on the cross for our sins (Philippians 2:5-11).  Jesus said in Mark 9:35 And He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, "If anyone desires to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all." Peter gets proud and doesn't want Jesus to wash his feet so He tells Jesus "Lord, are You washing my feet? So, Jesus begins to say that Peter doesn't understand all this right now, but will later on.  Peter strongly protests again. So, Jesus tells Peter that if He is not allowed to wash his feet that He cannot have anything to do with Jesus.  So Peter replies wash all of me then.  Jesus lets Peter know that a saved person (those that are completely clean) only needs to clean their feet.  In other words a saved person has been completely washed clean by the Blood of Jesus and only needs to daily ask for forgiveness (wash their feet) to maintain fellowship with God.  1 John 1:9 If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. As we walk through this world we get dirty from being exposed to the sin around us that contaminates us.  He then tells Peter that Judas is not saved by saying all of you are not clean.     Mark 8:36 "For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?             John 14:6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. Have you trusted Him as your Savior? He can Save you if You ask Him based on His death, burial, and resurrection for your sins. Believe in Him for forgiveness of your sins today.               “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”  -John 8:32           Our mission is to spread the gospel and to go to the least of these with the life-changing message of Jesus Christ; We reach out to those the World has forgotten.              hisloveministries.podbean.com #HLMSocial hisloveministries.nethttps://www.instagram.com/hisloveministries1/?hl=en His Love Ministries on Itunes Don't go for all the gusto you can get, go for all the God (Jesus Christ) you can get. The gusto will get you, Jesus can save you. https://www.facebook.com/His-Love-Ministries-246606668725869/?tn-str=k*F            The world is trying to solve earthly problems that can only be solved with heavenly solutions

In this episode of the Finding Harmony Podcast, Harmony and Russell welcome two vibrant and wildly creative guests, Spiros Antonopoulos and Barry Silver. Known for their bold artistic ventures, they join forces to share a remarkable story of blending ancient spiritual traditions with modern conceptual art. Their project, Gently Down: Bathed, Beaten, and Blessed, turns everyday objects like t-shirts into sacred talismans infused with spiritual intention.   Discover how Spiros and Barry draw inspiration from the Kumbh Mela, ancient rituals, and astrological insights to create pieces that bridge the gap between the mundane and the miraculous. With humor, deep love, and genuine passion, they reflect on their collaborative journey and the challenges of intertwining art, spirituality, and friendship.   What You'll Learn: The origins of the Gently Down project and its significance. Insights into the Kumbh Mela and its spiritual importance. How art and ritual can transform ordinary objects into sacred talismans. The creative and spiritual practices behind their work. How astrology and ancient wisdom inspire their artistic expression.   Connect with the Guests: Follow Spiros Antonopoulos @souljerky and Barry Silver @gbsk on Instagram for updates on their work and travels. Follow the Gently Down project on Instagram: @gentlydownproject. Explore more about Gently Down at gentlydownproject.com.   Connect with Harmony! Find your Spiritual Archetype! What is your Spiritual Entrepreneur Archetype? Take the Quiz! Sign up for the Free Spiritual Entrepreneur Class! https://harmonyslater.as.me/Spiritual-Entrepreneur-Archetype-Class Connect with Us (We love to hear from you!) Harmony Slater's Website: http://harmonyslater.com Finding Harmony Community  https://harmonyslater.com/harmony-slater-coaching Find Harmony on Instagram⁠ Follow the Finding Harmony Podcast on IG ⁠Two Minute Breathwork Session⁠

ONE FLU OVER?I have the flu. It's a sign of my loyalty to you dear reader, that I write this column in my sick bed. Bathed in sweat. I've changed my T shirt four times since Saint Stephen's Day. I ran out of paper hankies and turned to kitchen roll for nose cleaning duties. The snatters are tripping me. I've changed my sheets as well. Three times. Everyone else is away so I phoned Richard. Gearóid Ó Cairealláin – the definitive activistLots has already been written about Gearóid Ó Cairealláin who died a fortnight ago. He was such a vital part of the Irish language community in west Belfast over so many years, and as someone I knew and greatly respected him, I cannot allow his passing to go without a wee personal tribute.Israeli barbarity knows no boundariesWe begin the new year as we ended the old one in the Middle East. The Israeli military - its ground forces, and air force - continue their expansionist war in southern Lebanon, Syria, the west Bank, the Gaza Strip and in the Yemen. In pursuit of its land grab Israeli soldiers last weekend forcibly invaded Kamal Adwan Hospital in northern Gaza and gave the staff 15 minutes to leave. The Israeli forces then stripped the doctors, nurses and other medical staff and forced the semi naked medics and gravely injured patients out on to the cold and rubble strewn streets. There were 350 people in the hospital, including 180 medical workers and 75 wounded people. Many of the medics were taken away by the Israeli forces their plight uncertain.

Jackie & John CLOSE OUT 2024 !!! TAP IN & ENJOY. New Episodes of Jackie & John, Gayside Stories Reimagined & The John Effect Podcast will be back with New Episodes after Winter Hiatus.

Jackie & John CLOSE OUT 2024 !!! TAP IN & ENJOY. New Episodes of Jackie & John, Gayside Stories Reimagined & The John Effect Podcast will be back with New Episodes after Winter Hiatus.

Hello to you listening in Stockholm, Sweden!Coming to you from Whidbey Island, Washington this is Stories From Women Who Walk with 60 Seconds for Time Out Tuesday and your host, Diane Wyzga.I have walked, bathed and rested in many forests. Some with trees 300 or 400 years old. Others, less mature. Trees are wise in ways that can't be taught. As mortals perhaps the best we can do is wander among them in sacred silence, listen, learn, revere, and sustain these  forested communities.Hermann Hesse wrote: “For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when I live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.... Whoever has learned to listen to trees no longer wants to be one. He wants to be nothing except who he is.”BONUS: Click to access the pdf: Trees: An Anthology of Writings and PaintingsYou're always invited: “Come for the stories - stay for the magic!” Speaking of magic, would you subscribe and spread the word with a generous 5-star review and comment - it helps us all - and join us next time!Meanwhile, stop by my Quarter Moon Story Arts website to:✓ Check out Services I Offer,✓ Arrange your no-sales, Complimentary Coaching Consult,✓ Stay current with Diane as “Wyzga on Words” on Substack and on LinkedInStories From Women Who Walk Production TeamPodcaster: Diane F Wyzga & Quarter Moon Story ArtsMusic: Mer's Waltz from Crossing the Waters by Steve Schuch & Night Heron MusicAll content and image © 2019 to Present Quarter Moon Story Arts. All rights reserved. 

Welcome back for another Sunday addition to the recurring series “Take Me to Church”. In this series I focus on capturing the spiritual experience of going to church on Sunday in a podcast format without the restrictive structure found in most traditional churches. My aim is to encourage the principles of critical thinking and free thought while dealing with religious texts and stories. The lack of “rules” regarding what can and cannot be talked about or believed in is the primary point of these weekly episodes. I want to provide anyone who is curious an opportunity to engage with religious texts and concepts without the preconceived notions which force certain interpretations on prospective believers. Another goal with this show is to more fully unify religions from different traditions through engaging with them in single space. Join me every Sunday for the special series “Take Me to Church”! Enjoy! Lots of Love

You know those days when everything starts ok but then something catches you off guard and puts you in a funk? This episode is focused on analyzing those moments from a new perspective, one that aims at uncovering the truth, even if the blame leads to you. Sometimes, you just have to check yourself. Lots of love! Lots of Love

So THAT'S why Paige is afraid of snakes, her brother's fault, evidently they were in the tub when she was growing up Headlines with how much an arm and a leg are worth, 90 million bucks apparently Sports with a cheerleading team in Texas also doing Pigskin Punishments evidently

Tap here to send us a message!There are moments in our walk with the Lord when we may be called to either give or receive correction. In these times, it is God's will that both the one offering and the one receiving correction act with humility and love. When we willingly embrace this process, we allow God to strengthen and build His church to draw us closer to unity and maturity in Him. 10/10/2024 - Thursday NightScriptures Used (In Order of Occurrence):II Timothy 4:2Isaiah 34:5Ephesians 6:17Hebrews 4:12Revelation 1:16Revelation 2:12, 16II Timothy 4:2Proverbs 13:18Proverbs 12:1Proverbs 15:31-32Proverbs 10:17Proverbs 15:5, 10Matthew 12:19-20II Timothy 2:24-26James 3:1-2Proverbs 29:15Proverbs 25:11Proverbs 18:21Galatians 6:1Acts 2:37Hebrews 12:6-7Ephesians 4:14-16

We're looking at an astonishing claim. In the New Testament, the word “blessing” doesn't just mean what we mean by it today. It's closer to shalom. It means every joy and every benefit your heart and soul needs and longs for. And in Ephesians 1:3, we're told if you're a Christian you have already been blessed (past tense) with every spiritual blessing there is. What in the world could that mean? Let's look at the text with these questions: 1) How do we get every spiritual blessing? 2) What is every spiritual blessing? 3) Why can we have every spiritual blessing? and 4) How do you know you have every spiritual blessing? This sermon was preached by Dr. Timothy Keller at Redeemer Presbyterian Church on October 2, 2011. Series: A Study of Ephesians: Who is the Church? Scripture: Ephesians 1:1-8. Today's podcast is brought to you by Gospel in Life, the site for all sermons, books, study guides and resources from Timothy Keller and Redeemer Presbyterian Church. If you've enjoyed listening to this podcast and would like to support the ongoing efforts of this ministry, you can do so by visiting https://gospelinlife.com/give and making a one-time or recurring donation.

When I turned twenty-one in 1994, I embarked on a 500 mile solo hike on the Pacific Crest Trail across the state of Washington.  The Tread of My Soul is a memoir-meets-travelogue written from the trail.  Originally self published and shared with only a handful of family and friends, I recently dusted off the manuscript with the intention of sharing it with a new generation, on the 30th anniversary of its completion. Among black bears, ravens and Indian paintbrush, I grappled with the meaning of life while traversing the spine of the Cascade range with a handful of pocket edition classics in tow. Quotes from sacred texts, poets, and naturalists punctuate a coming of age tale contemplated in the wilderness.What follows is Part 1 of the book, squared off into four long Substack posts. For this first post, I'm also exclusively including Pacific Crest Trail Soundwalk, featuring a binaural field recording captured while hiking the first few miles on the Pacific Crest Trail up out of the Columbia Gorge in Washington. (If you haven't already, feel free to tap that play button at the top of the post.) The 26-minute composition cycles a triad of parts inspired by the letters PCT: part one in Phrygian mode (in E), part two in the key of C, and part three with Tritone substitutions. The instrumentation is outlined with Pianet electric piano, and colored in with synthesizer and intriguing pads built with a vaguely Appalachian mood in mind. It's on the quieter side, in terms of wildlife, but all in all, I think it compliments the reading. It concludes with a pretty frog chorus so, like the book, I'm making it unrestricted, in the hope of enticing some readers to stick with it to the end. If you prefer, you can find The Tread of My Soul in ebook format available for free right now on Apple Books or Amazon Kindle Store (free with Kindle Unlimited, points, or $2.99). If you read it and like it, please feel free to leave a review to help others find it. Thank you. So, without further ado, here we go:The Tread of My SoulComing of Age on the Pacific Crest Trailby Chad CrouchACT 1(AT RISE we see TEACHER and STUDENTS in an art studio. It is fall term; the sun is just beginning to set when class begins. Warm light washes the profiles of eight classmates. The wood floors are splashed with technicolor constellations of paint.)TEACHERHello. Welcome to class. I find role taking a tiresome practice so we'll skip over that and get to the assignment. Here I have a two-inch square of paper for you. I would like you to put your soul on it. The assignment is due in five minutes. No further explanations will be given.STUDENT #1(makes eye contact with a STUDENT #4, a young woman. She wears a perplexed smile on her face.)TEACHERHere you go.                                    (hands out squares of paper.)(People begin to work. Restlessness gives way to an almost reverence, except STUDENT #5 is scribbling to no end. The Students' awareness of others fades imperceptibly inward.  Five minutes pass quickly.)TEACHERTeacher: Are you ready? I'm interested to see what you've come up with.                                    (scuffle of some stools; the sound of a classroom reclaiming itself.)TEACHERWhat have you got there?STUDENT #1Well, I used half of the time just thinking. I was looking at my pencil and I thought…                                    (taps pencil on his knee, you see it is a mechanical model)this will never do the trick. The idea of soul seemed too intense to be grasped with only graphite. So 1 poked a pin sized hole in the paper and wrote:                                    (reading voice)“Hold paper up to sun, look into hole for soul.” That's all the further I got.TEACHER                                    (looking at student #2)And you?STUDENT #2                                    (smiles)Um, I didn't know what to do so all I have is a few specks where I was tapping my pen while I was thinking. This one…                                    (she points to a dot)is all, um, all fuzzy because I was ready to draw something and I hesitated so the ink just ran…(Students nod sympathetically. Attention goes to STUDENT #3)STUDENT #3I couldn't deal with just one little blank square.                                    (holds paper up and flaps it around, listlessly)So I started dividing.                                    (steadies and turns paper to reveal a graph.)Now, I have lots of squares in which to put my soul in. I think of a soul as being multifaceted.TEACHEROkay.  Thank you.  Next…                                    (looking at student #4)STUDENT #4                                    (without hesitation)I just stepped on it.(holds paper up to reveal the tread of a shoe sole in a multicolor print.)The tread of my soul.•     •     •            The writing that follows seems to have many of the same attributes as the students' responses to the problem posed in the preceding scene. While I have a lot more paper to work with, the problem remains the same: how do I express myself?  How do I express the intangible and essential part of me that people call a soul?  What is it wrapped up in?  What doctrines, ideologies and memories help give it a shape?            I guess I identify mostly with Student #4. Her shoe-print “Tread of My Soul” alludes to my own process: walking over 500 miles on The Pacific Crest Trail from Oregon To Canada in the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington. In trying to describe my soul I found that useful to be literal. Where my narrative dips into memoir or philosophy I tried not to hesitate or overthink things.  I tried to lay it all out.            Student #1's solution was evident in my own problem solving in how I constantly had to look elsewhere; into nature, into literature, and into symbology to even begin to bring out the depth of what I was thinking and feeling. Often the words of spiritual classics and of poetry are seen through my writing as if looking through a hole. I can only claim originality in where I poke the holes.            As for Student #2, I am afraid that my own problem solving doesn't evoke enough of her charm. For as much as I wanted to be thoughtful, I wanted also to be open and unstudied, tapping my pen. What I see has emerged, however, is at times argumentative. In retrospect I see that I had no recourse, really. My thoughts on God and Jesus were molded in a throng of letters, dialogues, experiences, and personal studies prior to writing this.Finally, in the winter of my twenty-first year, as I set down to transcribe this book, I realize how necessary it was to hike. Student #3 had the same problem. The soul is complex and cannot fit into a box. Hiking gave me a cadence to begin to answer the question what is my soul? The trail made me mindful. There was the unceasing metaphor of the journey: I could only reach my goal incrementally. This tamed my writing sometimes. It wandered sometimes and I was at ease to let it. I had more than five minutes and a scrap of paper. I had each step.•     •     •            The Bridge of the Gods looks like a behemoth Erector set project over the Columbia River spanning the natural border of Washington and Oregon. My question: what sort of Gods use Erector sets?  Its namesake actually descends from an event in space and time; a landslide. The regional natives likely witnessed, in the last millennium, a landslide that temporarily dammed the Columbia effectually creating a bridge—The Bridge of the Gods. I just finished reading about why geologists think landslides are frequent in the gorge. Didn't say anything about Gods. How we name things, as humankind, has something to do with space and time doesn't it? Where once we call something The Bridge of the Gods it has been contemporarily reduced to landslide. We have new Gods now, and they compel us to do the work with erector sets. Or perhaps I mistook the name: It doesn't necessarily mean Gods made it. Perhaps Gods dwell there or frequent it. Or maybe it is a passageway that goes where the Gods go. It seems to me that if the Gods wanted to migrate from, say, Mt. Rainier in Washington to Mt. Hood in Oregon, they would probably follow the Cascade Ridge down to the Bridge of the Gods and cross there.            If so, I think I should like to see one, or maybe a whole herd of them like the caribou I saw in Alaska earlier this summer, strewn across the snow field like mahogany tables. Gods, I tend to think are more likely to be seen in the high places or thereabouts, after all,The patriarchs and prophets of the Old Testament behold the Lord face to face in the high places. For Moses it was Mount Sinai and Mount Nebo; in the New Testament it is the Mount of Olives and Golgotha. I went so far as to discover this ancient symbol of the mountain in the pyramid constructions of Egypt and Chaldea. Turning to the Aryans, I recalled those obscure legends of the Vedas in which the Soma—the 'nectar' that is in the 'seed of immortality' is said to reside in its luminous and subtle form 'within the mountain.' In India the Himalayas are the dwelling place of the Siva, of his spouse 'the Daughter of the Mountain,' and the 'Mothers' of all worlds, just as in Greece the king of the gods held court on Mt Olympus.- Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue            These days Gods don't go around making landslides every time they want to cross a river, much less perform a Jesus walking on the water miracle. That would be far too suspicious. Gods like to conceal themselves. A popular saying is "God helps those who help themselves." I think if Moses were alive today, Jehovah would have him build a bridge rather than part the waters.            Someone said, "Miracles take a lot of hard work." This is true.•     •     •Day 1.Bridge of the Gods.Exhausted, I pitch my tent on the side of the trail in the hot afternoon and crawl into to take a nap to avoid the annoying bugs.My sweat leaves a dead person stamp on the taffeta floor.Heavy pack.  A vertical climb of 3200 ft.Twelve miles. I heaved dry tears and wanted to vomit.Dinner and camp on a saddle.Food hard to stomach.View of Adams and gorge.            Perhaps I am a naive pilgrim as I cross over that bridge embarking on what I suppose will be a forty day and night journey on the Pacific Crest Trail with the terminus in Canada. My mother gave me a box of animal crackers before my departure so I could leave “a trail of crumbs to return by.” The familiar classic Barnum's red, yellow and blue box dangles from a carabineer of my expedition backpack            As I cross over the bridge I feel small, the pack bearing down on my hips, legs, knees, feet. I look past my feet, beyond the steel grid decking of the bridge, at the water below.  Its green surface swirls. I wonder how many gallons are framed in each metal square and how many flow by in the instant I look?How does the sea become the king of all streams?Because it is lower than they!Hence it is the king of all streams.-Lao-tzu, Tao Teh Ching            On the Bridge of the Gods I begin my quest, gazing at my feet superimposed on the Columbia's waters flowing toward the ocean. Our paths are divergent. Why is it that the water knows without a doubt where to go; to its humble Ocean King that embraces our planet in blue? I know no such path of least resistance to and feel at one with humankind. To the contrary, when we follow our paths of least resistance—following our family trees of religion, learning cultural norms—we end up worshipping different Gods. It is much easier for an Indian to revere Brahman than it is for I. It is much easier for me to worship Christ than it is for an Indian. These paths are determined geographically and socially.             It's not without trepidation that I begin my journey. I want to turn from society and turn to what I believe to be impartial: the sweeping landscape.            With me I bring a small collection of pocket books representing different ideas of the soul. (Dhammapada, Duino Elegies, Tao Teh Ching, Song of Myself, Walden, Mount Analogue, and the Bible.) It isn't that I want to renounce my faith.  I turn to the wilderness, to see if I can't make sense of it all.            I hike north. This is a fitting metaphor. The sun rises in the east and arcs over the south to the west. To the north is darkness. To the north my shadow is cast. Instinctively I want to probe this.•     •     •Day 2.Hiked fourteen miles.Three miles on a ridge and five descending brought me to Rock Creek.I bathed in the pool. Shelves of fern on a wet rock wall.Swaths of sunlight penetrating the leafy canopy.Met one person.Read and wrote and slept on a bed of moss.Little appetite.Began another ascent.Fatigued, I cried and cursed out at the forest.I saw a black bear descending through the brushBefore reaching a dark campsite.            I am setting records of fatigue for myself. I am a novice at hiking. Here is the situation: I have 150 miles to walk. Simple arithmetic agrees that if I average 15 miles a day it will take me 10 days to get to the post office in White Pass where I have mailed myself more food. I think I am carrying a sufficient amount of food to sustain my journey, although I'm uncertain because I have never backpacked for more than three consecutive days. The greatest contingency, it seems, is my strength: can I actually walk 15 miles a day with 60 pounds on my back in the mountains? Moreover, can I continue to rise and fall as much as I have? I have climbed a vertical distance of over 6000 feet in the first two days.            I begin to quantify my movement in terms of Sears Towers. I reason that if the Sears Tower is 1000 feet, I walked the stairs of it up and down almost 5 times. I am developing a language of abstract symbols to articulate my pain.            I dwell on my condition. I ask myself, are these thoughts intensified by my weakness or am I feeding my weakness with my thoughts?            I begin to think about God. Many saints believed by impoverishing their physical self, often by fasting, their spiritual self would increase as a result. Will my spirit awake as my body suffers?            I feet the lactic acid burning my muscle tissue. I begin to moan aloud. I do this for some time until, like a thunderclap, I unleash voice in the forest.            I say, "I CAN'T do this,” and "I CAN do this," in turn. I curse and call out "Where are you God? I've come to find you." Then I see the futility of my words. Scanning the forest: all is lush, verdant, solemn, still. My complaint is not registered here.And all things conspire to keep silent about us, half out of shame perhaps, half as unutterable hope.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies            I unstrap my pack and collapse into heap on the trail floor, curled up. I want to be still like the forest.            The forest makes a noise: Crack, crack, crack.            I think a deer must be traversing through the brush. I turn slowly to look in the direction of the sound. It's close. Not twenty yards off judging from the noise.            I pick myself up to view the creature, and look breathlessly. It's just below me in the ravine. Its shadowy black body dilates subtly as it breathes. What light falls on it seems to be soaked up, like a hole cut in the forest in the shape of an animal. It turns and looks at me with glassy eyes. It claims all my senses—I see, hear, feel, smell, taste nothing else--as I focus on the bear.And so I hold myself back to swallow the call note of my dark sobbing.Ah, whom can we ever turn to in our need?Not angels, not humans and already the knowing animals are aware that we are really not at home in our interpreted world.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies            Remembering what I read to do when encountering a bear, I raise my arms, making myself bigger. "Hello bear," I say, "Go away!"            With the rhythm of cracking branches, it does.•     •     •Day 3.Hiked thirteen miles.Descended to Trout Creek, thirsty.Met a couple en route to Lake Tahoe.Bathed in Panther Creek.Saw the wind brushing the lower canopy of leaves on a hillside.A fly landed on the hairs of my forearm and I,Complacent,Dreamt.            I awake in an unusual bed: a stream bed. A trickle of clear water ran over stones beneath me, down my center, as if to bisect me. And yet I was not wet. What, I wonder, is the significance of this dream?            The August sun had been relentless thus far on my journey. The heat combined with the effort involved in getting from one source of water to the next makes an arrival quite thrilling. If the water is deep enough for my body, even more so:I undress... hurry me out of sight of land, cushion me soft... rock me in billowy drowse Dash me with amorous wet...- Walt Whitman, Song of Myself            There is something electrifying and intensely renewing about swimming naked in a cold creek pool or mountain lake.I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things I did. They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of King Tching-thang to this effect; "renew thyself completely each day; do it again and again and forever again."- Henry David Thoreau, Walden            Is bathing, then, a spiritual exercise?            When I was baptized on June 15, 1985 in the tiled pool of our chapel in the Portland suburbs, I thought surely as I was submerged something extraordinary would happen, such as the face of Jesus would appear to me in the water. And I did do it—I opened my eyes under water— but saw only the blur of my pastor's white torso and the hanging ferns that framed the pool. I wondered: shouldn't a ceremony as significant as this feel more than just wet? I'm guessing that most children with exposure to religion often keep their eyes open for some sort of spectacular encounter with God, be it to punish or affirm them. (As a child, I remember sitting in front of the television thinking God could put a commercial on for heaven if he wanted to.)            Now, only ten years after I was baptized, I still keep my eyes open for God, though not contextually the same, not within a religion, not literally.            And when I swim in a clear creek pool, I feel communion, pure and alive. The small rounded stones are reminders of the ceaseless touch of water. Their blurry shapes embrace me in a way that the symbols and rites of the church fail to.I hear and behold God in every objectYet I understand God not in the least.-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself            And unlike the doctrines and precepts of organized religion, I have never doubted my intrinsic bond to water.And more-For greater than all the joysOf heaven and earthGreater still than dominionOver all worlds,Is the joy of reaching the stream.- Dhammapada, Sayings of the Buddha•     •     •Day 4.Hiked fourteen miles. Climbed to a beautiful ridge.Signs, yellow and black posted every 50 feet: "Experimental Forest"Wound down to a campground where I met three peopleAs I stopped for lunch."Where does this trail go to?" he says. "Mexico," I say."Ha Ha," says he.Camped at small Green Lake.            My body continues to evolve. My hair and fingernails grow and grow, and right now I've got four new teeth trying to find a seat in my mouth.            I turned twenty-one on August sixth. On August sixth, 1945 a bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. The world lost more people than it made that day. When I was born, I suspect we gained a few.            I'm an adult now, and I'm not sure where it happened or why. I wonder if someone had to stamp something somewhere because of it? A big red stamp that says "ADULT".  It was a blind passage for me—just like those persons who evaporated at ground zero on August sixth, 49 years ago.            I do feel like I just evaporated into adulthood. I am aware of the traditional ceremony of turning twenty-one. Drinking. Contemporary society commemorates becoming an adult with this token privilege. Do you have any idea how fast alcohol evaporates? I am suggesting this: One's response to this rite rarely affords any resolution or insight into growth. Our society commemorates the passage from child to adult with a fermented beverage.            I wanted to more deliberate about becoming an adult. Hence the second reason (behind a spiritual search) for this sojourn into the wilderness. I took my lead from the scriptures:And he was in the desert forty days... He was with the wild animal and the angels attended him.- Mark 1:13            Something about those forty days prepared Jesus for what we know of his adult life.I also took my lead from Native Americans. Their rite of passage is called a vision quest, wherein the youth goes alone into the depth of nature for a few days to receive some sort of insight into being.            I look around me. I am alone here in the woods a few days after my birthday. Why? To discover those parts of me that want to be liberated. To draw the fragrant air into my lungs. To feel my place in nature.…beneath each footfall with resolution.I want to own every atom of myself in the present and be able to say:Look I am living. On what? NeitherChildhood nor future grows any smaller....Superabundant being wells up in my heart.- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies•     •     •Day 5.Hiked to Bear Lake and swam.Saw over a dozen people. Eighteen miles.Watched raven fly from tree and listened.Found frogs as little as my thumbnail.Left Indian Heaven.            Surprise.  My body is becoming acclimated to long distance hiking. I know because when I rest it is a luxury rather than a necessity.            The light is warmer and comes through the forest canopy at an acute angle from the west, illuminating the trunks of this relatively sparse old growth stand. I am laying on my back watching a raven at his common perch aloft in a dead Douglas fir.            It leaps into its court and flap its wings slowly, effortlessly navigating through the old wood pillars. The most spectacular sense of this, however, is the sound: a loud, slow, hollow thrum: Whoosh whoosh, whoosh....  It's as if the interstices between each pulse are too long, too vacant to keep the creature airborne. Unlike its kind, this raven does not speak: there are no loud guttural croaks to be heard.            Northwest coastal tribes such as the Kwakiutl thought the croaks of a raven were prophetic and whoever could interpret them was a seer. Indeed, the mythic perception of ravens to be invested with knowledge and power is somewhat universal.           My raven is silent. And this is apt, for I tend to think the most authentic prophecies are silent, or near to it.Great sound is silent.- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            The contour of that sound and silence leaves a sublime impression on me.•     •     •Day 6.Hiked twelve miles.Many uphill, but not most.Met several people.One group looked like they were enjoying themselves—two families.I spent the afternoon reading my natural history book on a bridge.Voles (forest mice) relentlessly made efforts to infiltrate my food bag during the night.            I am reading about how to call a tree a “Pacific Silver Fir” or an “Engelmann Spruce” or “Western Larch” and so on. If something arouses my curiosity on my walk, I look in my natural history book to see if it has anything to say.            Jung said, "Sometimes a tree can teach you more than a book can."            Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha was enlightened beneath a fig tree.            I read that a 316-year-old Ponderosa Pine east of Mt. Jefferson bears scars from 18 forest fires. Surely that tree taught us one thing a book couldn't.  All things are clues. Everything is part of a complex tapestry of causality.            The grand design behind these mountains has something to do with plate tectonics. Beneath me the oceanic plate is diving beneath the continental at twenty to sixty degrees putting it well under the coastline to where it partially melts and forms magma. This has been happening for millions of years. Every once and a while this magma channels its way up to the surface, cools and turns into igneous rock. Again and again, this happens. Again and again, and yet again until a mountain is made; a stratovolcano.            Meanwhile, on top, water, glaciers, wind, and sun are trying to carry the mountains away grain by grain. Geologic time is as incomprehensible as it would be to imagine someone's life by looking at his or her gravestone. These mountains are gravestones.            Plants fight to keep the hillsides together. Plants and trees do. But every summer some of those trees, somewhere, are going to burn. Nature will not tolerate too much fuel. New trees will grow to replace those lost. Again and again. Eighteen times over and there we find our tree, a scarred Ponderosa Pine in the tapestry.            And every summer the flowers will bloom. The bees will come to pollinate them and cross-pollinate them: next year a new color will emerge.            And every summer the mammals named homo-sapiens-sapiens will come to the mountains to cut down trees, hike trails, and to put up yellow and black signs that read Boundary Experimental Forest U.S.F.S. placed evenly 100 yards apart so hikers are kept excessively informed about boundaries.            Here I am in the midst of this slow-motion interplay of nature. I walk by thousands of trees daily. Sometimes I see just one, sometimes the blur of thousands. It is not so much that a tree teaches me more than a book; rather it conjures up in me the copious leagues of books unwritten. And, I know somewhere inside that I participate. What more hope could a tree offer?  What more hope could you find in a gravestone?•     •     •Day 7.Hiked twenty miles in Alpine country near Mt Adams.More flowers—fields of them. Saw owl. Saw elk.Wrote near cascading creek.Enjoyed walking. Appetite is robust.Camped at Lave Spring.Saw six to ten folks.Didn't talk too much.            Before I was baptized, during the announcements, there was a tremendous screech culminating in a loud cumbf! This is a sound which can be translated here as metal and glass crumpling and shattering in an instant to absorb the forces of automobiles colliding.            In the subsequent prayer, the pastor made mention of the crash, which happened on the very same corner of the chapel, and prayed to God that He might spare those people of injury.            As it turns the peculiarly memorable sound was that of our family automobile folding into itself, and it was either through prayer or her seat belt that no harm came to my sister who was driving it.            Poor thing. She just was going to get some donuts. Do you know why? Because I missed my appointment with baptism. There is time in most church services when people go to the front to (1.) confess their sin, (2.) confess their faith in Christ as their only personal savior, and (3.) to receive Him. This is what is known as the “Altar Call”. To the embarrassment of my parents (for I recall the plan was for one of them to escort me to the front) the Alter Call cue—a specific prayer and hymn—was missed and I sat expectant till the service end. The solution was to attend the subsequent service and try harder.            I don't recall my entire understanding of God and Jesus then, at age eleven, but I do remember arriving at a version of Pascal's reductive decision tree that there are four possibilities regarding my death and salvation:1. Jesus is truly the savior of mankind and I claim him and I go to heaven, or2. Jesus is truly the savior of mankind and I don't claim him and I end up in hell, or3. Jesus isn't the savior of mankind and I die having lived a somewhat virtuous life in trying to model myself after him, or4. Jesus isn't the savior of mankind and I didn't believe it anyhow.            My sister, fresh with an Oregon drivers license, thought one dose of church was enough for her and, being hungry, went out for donuts and failed to yield.Cumbf!            Someone came into the chapel to inform us. We all went out to the accident. The cars were smashed and askew, and my sister was a bawling, rocking little lump on the side of the street. We attended to her, calmed her, and realized there was yet time for me to get baptized. We went into the church and waited patiently for the hymn we had mentally earmarked and then I was baptized. I look back on the calamities of that day affectionately.Prize calamities as your own body.- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            Those events that surrounded the ritual decry a ceremony so commonplace one often misses the extraordinariness of it; of humanity; the embarrassment of my parents; the frustration and impetuous flight of my sister; and the sympathy and furrowed brow of our pastor. These events unwind in my head like a black and white silent film of Keystone Cops with a church organ revival hymn for the soundtrack.  There was something almost slapstick about how that morning unfolded, and once the dust had settled and the family was relating the story to my grandmother later that day, we began to find the humor in it. Hitting things and missing things and this is sacred. All of it.Because our body is the very source of our calamities,If we have no body, what calamities can we have?- Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching            Most religions see the body as temporal and the soul as eternal. Hence, 13th century monks cloistered themselves up denying their bodies space and interaction that their souls might be enhanced.            I see it this way: No one denies their bodily existence, do they? Look, your own hand holds this book. Why do you exist? You exist right now, inherently, to hold a book, and to feel the manifold sensations of the moment.            If this isn't enough of a reason, adjust.            I've heard it said, "Stop living in the way of the world, live in the way of God."            My reply: "Before I was baptized, I heard a cumbf, and it was in the world and I couldn't ignore it.  I'm not convinced we would have a world if we weren't supposed to live in the way of it."Thanks for reading Soundwalk! This is Part One of my 1994 travelogue-meets-memoir The Tread of My Soul. This post is public so feel free to share it.Read: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Or find the eBook at Apple Books or Amazon Kindle Store. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

A new MP3 sermon from Paramount Church is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Bathed in Humility Subtitle: Encounter the Gospel Kingdom Speaker: Rush Witt Broadcaster: Paramount Church Event: Sunday Service Date: 8/4/2024 Bible: Matthew 3:13-16 Length: 39 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Paramount Church is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Bathed in Humility Subtitle: Encounter the Gospel Kingdom Speaker: Rush Witt Broadcaster: Paramount Church Event: Sunday Service Date: 8/4/2024 Bible: Matthew 3:13-16 Length: 39 min.

A new MP3 sermon from Paramount Church is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Bathed in Humility Subtitle: Encounter the Gospel Kingdom Speaker: Rush Witt Broadcaster: Paramount Church Event: Sunday Service Date: 8/4/2024 Bible: Matthew 3:13-16 Length: 39 min.

Why do people keep acting this way in public? Support the show and follow us here Twitter, Insta, Apple, Amazon, Spotify and the Edge! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Doug is joined in studio with Nicci Aguiar the gallery manager for the Artist Association of Nantucket is. Nicci stops by to talk about some really cool upcoming events. First, she tells us about a gallery opening called "Bathed in Lights" on Friday August 2nd from 5-7 at the Big Gallery in the Thomas Macy Warehouse at 12 Straight Wharf. Stop on by for some amazing art pieces and light bites. Then on Saturday August 17th it's their 2nd "Sidewark Art Show" of the season, taking place in the garden at the Atheneum from 9-2pm. See Nicci's personal art on Instagram @nicci_auiar and see the full lineup for the AAN at https://www.nantucketarts.org/.

NOTE: For Ad-Free Episodes, 100+hrs of Bonus Content and More - Visit our Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/thewheelweavespodcastFind us on our Instagram, Twitter, YouTube & Website, and join the conversation on Discord!In this episode Dani and Brett discuss THE END OF THE GATHERING STORM!!! Chapter 49, Chapter 50, and the Epilogue!!We would like to give a huge welcome to our newest Producer, Zane Sciacca!!! Thank you so much for your contribution and your support!We would like to acknowledge and thank our Executive Producers Brandy and Aaron Kirkwood, Sean McGuire, Janes, LightBlindedFool, Green Man, Deyvis Ferreira, Margaret, Big C, Bennett Williamson, Dylan C, Hannah Green, Noralia, Geof Searles, Erik Reed, Greysin Ishara, Ashlee Bradley, Laura Lewis, and Helena Jacobsen!The Wheel Weaves is hosted and edited by Dani and Brett, produced by Dani and Brett with Passionsocks, Cody Fouts, Benjamin, Jamie Young, Magen, Jared Berg, Rikky Morrisette, Lance Barden, Adam, Mozyme, Michelle Forbes, MKM, Antoine Benoit, Lawrence Bradley, Colby T, Gabby Young, Ricat, and Zane Sciacca. With music by Audionautix.Check out our partner - the Spoiler-Free Wiki - Spliki.com - Your main first time reader, Spoiler-Free WoT information source!Don't forget to leave us that 5 star review if you enjoy the show for a chance to win exclusive merchandise!Check out https://www.thewheelweavespodcast.com for everything The Wheel Weaves!Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-wheel-weaves-podcast-a-wheel-of-time-podcast--5482260/support.

Send us a Text Message.EP 468: Regency Romance & Steamy Spicy Excerpt plus Author Interview with Stacia Kaywood, excerpt narrated by the author herself!  In this episode, join Ruan Willow as she welcomes the multi-talented author Stacia Kaywood, who delves into various realms of romantic fiction, from historical to paranormal to contemporary, always with a spicy twist. Stacia shares an intense excerpt from her upcoming Regency romance, "Stealing Annabelle," book release in summer of 2024, along with a fun and engaging interview.Stacia is a versatile author who refuses to be confined to a single genre. Her debut novel, "Bathed in Moonlight," is a historical romance set at the end of World War II. She has also written short stories available on Medium, including "Haunting Jasmine," which features a mystery and a sexy ghost. Stacia resides in Kansas City, Missouri, and is an avid reader and traveler, drawing inspiration from art, architecture, and real-life stories.Episode Highlights- Stacia reads a sultry excerpt from "Stealing Annabelle" that will leave you breathless.- A deep dive into Stacia's writing process, inspirations, and how she navigates different genres.- Insightful discussion about the importance of reader feedback and the challenges of writing historical romance.- Ruan and Stacia discuss the nuances of writing erotic romance and the joy of creating steamy scenes.02:19

Whilst walking up towards the observatory in the Kielder forest, we passed large areas of cleared woodland. "Fallen in the great storm of 2021" a passing forester explained in the afternoon sunshine. In some sections, the trees had been cut and stacked. Rows of tree trunks that smelled deliciously rich with the resin-y smell of Christmas trees. We found the smell instantly relaxing, as if it reduced blood pressure just by inhaling it.  We stopped on a steep rough path by a rushing burn, to take in the pristine quiet ambience. Banks of wind were brushing across the high tree tops. Grand firs, whose countless fine needles instantly convert wind energy into rich brown sound. The rushing water permeated the surrounding space with what we feel is the cleanest white noise mist we've come across this year. Capturing this sound scene was something we just had to do.  Finding a suitable tree for the Lento box by the path wasn't too difficult. Bathed in the white noise mist and the brown sound of the tall fir trees, we left the microphones alone to capture this passage of time. Slightly to the left of scene is the rushing burn. Fresh water speeding shallowly over steep flinty stones. High above and undulating from right to left of scene, wind brushes the upper tree tops, filling the air with waves of softly hushing sound. Various songbirds are singing, wrens and blackbirds but willow warblers seem to be very common in the Kielder Forest. Their song while quite fleeting is a lovely droopy descent down a simple scale of notes. It's very similar to the chaffinch song, only purer, and without the musical somersault that the chaffinsh seems to finish on.

***All of our episodes will contain spoilers & potential triggers... consider yourself warned***Hey sluts!!We have not talked about A LOT of books in one episode in a while, so here you go... all the books!! with a dollop of overshare... enjoy!Note: In this episode, it was stated that the Tarnished Angels MC series by Emma Slate can be read out of order, but we were incorrect and they SHOULD be read IN ORDER!  We also have a new MMIM Spotlight with Claimed by my Guardian by Ava MonroeGet your copy of Nine Month Contract here: https://a.co/d/iXCZYskGet your copy of My Dark Desire here: https://a.co/d/dlAXXvyGet your copy of Auctioned to the Cowboys here: https://a.co/d/ai4083LGet your copy of Leather and Lies here: https://a.co/d/dAnaBF4Get your copy of Claimed by My Guardian here: https://a.co/d/8QE4oLSListen now on your favorite platform!***Don't forget to rate/review us on your listening platform. Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-wet-spot-pod/donations

Chef Damo blesses us with a beautiful scallops recipe cooked with a delightful butter and garlic sauce. Send us your recipe tips and suggestions or feedback to thesoundingboard@sen.com.au Damo's Dish is proudly supported by Cobram Estate, Australia's most awarded extra virgin olive oil. Grown, harvested and first cold pressed in Northern Victoria. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Experience the timeless wisdom and inner peace of the Jewish bedtime ritual meditation. As twilight descends, embark on a sacred journey guided by ancient prayers and introspective contemplation. With each breath, release the burdens of the day, embracing a profound sense of calm and tranquility. Whispered psalms and blessings bind you to generations past, fostering gratitude and a sense of belonging. Bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight, seek solace and divine blessings for the night ahead. This ritual fosters deep reflection, nurturing the soul for restful sleep imbued with sacred purpose. Immerse yourself in the serene sanctity of this sacred tradition.

A Humiliated woman continues her narrative. By LiminallySpaced. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. But before I could think too much about Stephanie's implied jealously toward Tara, Stephanie moved things along. "So Tim; what was this 'wild' thing you saw?" "Well," I began, conjuring up the images I had witnessed, "I was doing some prep for the grad ceremony after school, and I forgot my bag in Ms. Dorman's room. I went back to get it on my way out and,” the pause wasn't so much for dramatic effect as much as it was me still not totally believing what I saw. “ I saw Ms. Dorman bent over her desk. Getting fucked from behind."Stephanie's folding stopped. "What?" she said, excitedly, finally looking up at me. "Yeah, no shit," I chuckled, "she had her skirt up around her waist and she was getting fucking RAILED. And not by her fiance!" "Oh my God, who was it?" Stephanie blurted, raising an excited hand to her cheek, dropping her cold exterior to revel in the hot gossip. I looked her dead in the eyes. I knew the answer to this would elicit a response from her, and I wanted to see it. "Mr. Ridley," I said. Stephanie looked away from me. "Oh really?" she said flatly. She grabbed the shirt she had been folding and got up off the bed, heading towards her closet. "Good for him," she said, her back to me. "Yeah, Ms. Dorman actually caught me watching, we talked about it afterward," I continued, my eyes watching her back for any sign of expression, "she and her fiance are in a sexless rut, and Ridley kept hounding her, so she decided to give in. They do it every couple weeks or so, but she doesn't seem to find it very satisfying, I definitely don't think he's making her cum." "Hmph, not surprising," she reflexively chortled. That was it, that was something I was looking for. There definitely was something to her story of lost virginity, but I wasn't sure what. I needed to find out. "Stephanie, that story you told me the other night, about how you lost your virginity, was it true?" "Why does it matter?" She said, idling at the closet, her back still to me, "I was a virgin, I got fucked, and then I wasn't. Who cares how it happened?" "I care," I said, attempting to break through her defenses, "I care about, you." It wasn't a lie. Her fidgeting stopped and she turned towards me, a reticent look on her face. I was starting to put the picture together. "It was Ridley, wasn't it?" I said, a gross taste at the back of my mouth as I said it. "Just maybe not exactly like you described?" Stephanie paused a moment, a far away look on her face, then moved over to the bed. She climbed in and wedged herself between the pillows at her headboard, knees tucked up almost under her chin. She took a deep breath. "I had such a crush on him," she began. My stomach went cold. Ugh. Ridley. "I thought I was such hot shit - I had jerked a few guys off, but that was it, really. Didn't matter though, I thought I was the queen of sex and seduction. You start to see what you can do to a man, to his cock, and you start to feel powerful." She wasn't lying. I knew from first hand experience how powerful a woman can be with your cock in her hand. "He was the hot young teacher, all the girls talked dirty about him. He flirted with everyone, So when he became the assistant coach, I decided I was going to do what the other girls wouldn't dare; I was going to fuck him." I moved over to where she was, and sat on the edge of the bed. "On a tournament trip?" I asked, breathlessly. "No," she continued, "I had made it a point to start flirting back, and one day after practice It was just him and me putting the equipment away. It was quiet, we were alone, so I went up to him and grabbed his cock." My pants started to tighten. Decency be damned, her taboo story was making me hard. "He groaned and smiled," she went on, "and I reached in and pulled it out. I hadn't seen that many dicks at that point, and his was the first that was curved, which was interesting." I chuckled. This little detail confirmed her story was true. "I was rubbing his cock, jerking him off, and I kept wanting to go in to kiss him, but he just wouldn't shut the fuck up, so I'm standing there, jacking his cock, and he's going 'yeah, that's it, yeah, jerk it' like some fucking porno!" "Oh wow, that's classy," I said sarcastically. This supposed lothario of a teacher seemed to be a real jackass. "So I'm jerking him off, and he starts going 'yeah, you want it? You want that cock, baby?' and I mean, despite it being less than the sexiest thing I've ever experienced, it was what I came for, and as you know I always keep my word,” visions of Stephanie by my side at the prom flashed in my head as I nodded. "And so I just said 'yeah, baby, i want that cock!'" She shook her head in embarrassment. "My God, I can't believe I actually said that,'' she chuckled. "Well, in any event, that seemed to be all the invitation he needed," she sighed, "because as soon as I said that, he grabbed me, spun me around and started squeezing my tits." That cold twinge of jealousy grew into my stomach, but it was more than just jealousy. The thought of Ridley grabbing her tits, poking into her back with his hard, bent cock made me a little angry. He was a total tool, and he was getting to have this experience with Stephanie, a girl who definitely deserved better. "It was a pretty exhilarating experience. My cunt is wet, is what I'm saying, so when he started pawing at my shorts, I didn't stop him, and I reached down and helped him out." My cock throbbed at the imagery, I wished it was me sliding her pants off. "So he yanks my shorts and panties down," she said with a bit of a pause. Her eyes got kind of far away for a moment as she conjured up the memory. "And he bends me over. I'm grasping for anything to stabilize myself, and he's just saying 'you want this cock, don't you? You want me to give it to you?' and I wasn't lying when I said 'yes, give me that cock!' like a goddamn pornstar." Her legs shifted together a bit at this moment. I couldn't tell if it was from arousal or embarrassment. "So I'm expecting, I don't know what I was expecting, I guess a bit more tenderness? A bit of foreplay? Some consideration at all of my own needs at the very least, but instead, as I'm there bent over the equipment rack, I hear him spit into his hand. Then I feel the head of his cock line itself up between my cunt lips, and he just starts to push into me. There wasn't any pain, like I said, I sure was wet, but it was just a very sudden, surprising experience. I gasped, and he kept pushing, and my body keeps taking him in, and then I feel his hips against my thighs; I've got his whole cock inside me. I wanted to take a minute to get used to it all, but he immediately starts pulling out, and then he thrusts back in. I feel him grab my hips with both hands, and then he just starts pumping. He's fucking me. It feels good, but it's all so overwhelming, I can't really focus on anything. I'm gasping for a controlled breath, and he's just pounding away at me, grunting, saying "yeah, take it, take that cock, you volleyball girls are built for fucking!'" She laughed a bit at the ridiculousness of what was being said. I cringed. "So he's fucking me, pretty uncontrolled and erratically, and just as I'm starting to get used to the sensation, he pulls out of me, grunts loudly, and starts cumming on the back of my leg." "Again," I said, "real classy." She laughed in agreement. "Yeah, I mean it was all over so fast, and now there I was, leaning against an equipment rack, dripping with spunk, trying to figure out what the hell I just experienced" she laughed again. "Then to put the cherry on it, he slaps my ass, and says 'thanks babe,' in a gross 'bro voice,' can you believe it?" "I can, actually," I said. What a twat this guy was. "And so that was it," she concluded, "it was just the one time, and we never even really talked to each other for the rest of the season." "What'd the other girls say when you told them?" "I didn't. I just, I don't know, like I'm not mad about it or anything, but it just wasn't, it just wasn't worth talking about." We sat in silence for a moment. I looked at Stephanie. She deserved so much better. He could have felt those long, shimmering legs wrapped around him, felt her wet cunt grip his cock and pulsate as she orgasmed. He could have heard her squeal in delight as he took her nipple into his mouth. This gorgeous creature in front of me deserved to be worshiped and experienced, not treated like a kleenex. He didn't even kiss her. Silently, I shifted up next to her on the bed. She looked me in the eye. Her long legs stretched out in front of her. She had let her guard down. I reached my hand up and gently touched her face. She didn't flinch. I ran my thumb gently over her lips. Those full, luscious lips of her, he didn't even kiss them. So I did. It was electric. I heard her exhale quietly as our lips touched, and she let out a low moan as my tongue slipped into her mouth. I felt her hand touch my leg. It squeezed. Our lips glided over each other, and we began to pull each other close, when all of a sudden she broke our embrace and pushed away. No words were said, but the look on her face was one of trepidation. At this point, despite all the times she'd blown me, jerked me off, or all the times I'd eaten her out or sucked her nipples, we had never kissed. We had crossed a line into a new level of intimacy, and she wasn't sure how to handle it. What it meant. What I meant. I looked down and saw her hand gripping my thigh, oh so close to my hard cock. I reached down, took her hand off my leg, and put it back beside her. I would love to have felt her hand on my cock again, on my swollen balls, but this wasn't about me. It was about her. About experiencing her. About showing her that I was real. Putting her hand down by her side, I reached back up, cupped her cheek, and smiled at her. She closed her eyes. She was nervous. I leaned in and felt the heat of her breath on my face as we kissed once more. Her nervousness broke, her body relaxed, and I felt her tongue enter my mouth as I pulled her close. Our tongues sparred with each other slowly, passionately. She wrapped her arms around my head, and my hands ran up and down her body. We languished in each others' mouths with deliberate kisses. My lips and tongue loved on hers, sliding away for hot excursions to her neck and jawline that elicited shallow gasps from Stephanie before my lips joined hers once again. My hard cock pressed into her hip, and her legs began to slide back and forth against each other in arousal. Without ever leaving the safety of her lips, my free hand slid down her body, past the swell of her perfect breasts and hard nipples, down over her flat stomach, and under the elastic of her pajama pants. There were no panties to be found. My fingers quickly became slick as they slipped between the swollen lips of her cunt. Stephanie moaned into my mouth and her hand came up and gripped my face as we kissed. I dipped a finger inside her, feeling the tight heat of her body, then drew her wetness up in search of her clit. A gasp and a soft bite of my lower lip told me I had struck gold. My fingers massaged her hard clit in slow, smooth circles, around and around, dipping back into her wet core periodically to refresh their lubrication. Ragged breaths released into my mouth as our lips continued their passionate dance, and she pulled me tighter as the tension mounting in her core grew higher and higher. Around and around went my fingers. Her hand gripped my hair tight. Around and around went my fingers. Little squeals and yelps started to escape from her throat as her body started to twitch. Around and around went my fingers. She pulled her mouth away from mine and threw her head back, gasping for air. My continuous kisses on her neck and jawline egged her on. Around and around, around and around, my fingers summoned her orgasm. Her squeals and yelps came faster now. The hand that wasn't gripping my hair grasped wildly at the sheets of her bed, and with a final, exuberant "fuck!" I heard those three delicious moans burst from her throat in their short-short-long succession as she began to cum. It was at that moment that I sipped my finger down into her cunt while my thumb strummed her clit through her orgasm. I needed to feel it. I needed to feel her. Her body tensed around me, and my finger was deep in her spasming cunt. I felt it squeeze and release my finger in a wild rhythm. Her thighs squeezed my hand, and she shook as the pleasure worked its way through her body. Coming down from her euphoric high, I cupped her cunt gently with my hand and held it there as her breath began to return to normal. She turned to look at me, and took my lips back onto hers. We held each other, kissing slowly and romantically as I felt the warmth of her vagina and the pressure of her thighs. Somewhere along the way both of us drifted off to sleep. Minutes later, hours later, days later, who's to say, a pleasant feeling gently roused me from my sleep. A warm feeling. A wet feeling. The moonlight diffused through the curtains on Stephanie's windows was the only light, and as consciousness returned, the feeling became more pronounced. I looked toward the source of this glorious wake up call; my crotch; and through sleepy eyes I saw a dark figure hunched over me. Hair bobbing up and down in a messy bun, the only sound in the dark room the slight, subtle slurp of a mouth sliding slowly up and down my iron-hard cock. "Stephanie?" I squeaked out. The sucking came to a slow halt, and the figure rose up to look at me, perched on her knees between my legs. Bathed in the soft moonlight was Stephanie. She was completely naked. A soft smile skirted across her lips, and she leaned forward, a strand of golden hair falling in front of her face. It drew a line up my chest as her face floated down toward mine. Still only half awake, I felt her lips touch mine in a passionate kiss as she snaked her body, throwing her leg over me. Stradling me. My cock was straining to the heavens as we kissed. I could feel the heat radiating off of her cunt as it floated above me. Our lips parted, and her eyes found mine in the darkness. We made no sound, but for our ragged, excited breaths. Her eyes asked the question, and my eyes gave the answer. Reaching back with one hand, she gently grasped my straining cock, and positioned it snugly at her opening. "Oh my God," I gasped. My hands reached up and gripped her spread thighs tightly. Then with one, long, agonizingly slow movement, my step sister's best friend lowered herself down on top of me, taking the full length of my cock deep into her body with one stroke. We both gasped. My cock was completely enveloped by her hot, wet cunt; my cock was in Stephanie's cunt; and even the slightest shift or movement sent shocks through my whole body. I was inside my first woman, a woman I truly cared about, and this overwhelming new sensation sent me careening toward the edge. Stephanie ever so slightly began to rise up, drawing her tight lips along my screaming length. I gasped again, losing all control over my breath. My balls churned again, and that coil of sweet pleasure came rushing to my core. "That's it, Timmy," Stephanie cooed as she increased her deliberate up and down grinding on my cock. That name, Timmy, a name that had once been a weapon used to tease and torment me, took on a new, erotic meaning as this golden goddess took the length of my cock inside her. It was now a term of want. Of desire. This wasn't hard, fast, staccato fucking, this girl was using her whole body to coax me toward ultimate pleasure. My whole body was vibrating. "That's it," she said lovingly, placing her hand on the side of my head as she watched me lose control. "That's it, Timmy," she whispered once again, followed by the command of all commands: "Cum for me. Cum inside me." The white hot spring snapped. My head lolled back, and my mouth hung open, overcome with sensation. My balls rushed up tight, my cock flared out hard against the walls of Stephanie's cunt, and I began filling her with torrent upon torrent of hot cum. "That's it, baby, that's it," she encouraged as her tight cunt milked the pleasure out from my very soul. I felt the walls of her cunt twitch and slide as I flooded her with my semen, and Stephanie pulled me close to her as she rode me through the waves of euphoria. "That's it, baby, that's it." I pulsed inside her for what felt like days, and I felt as though I would have flown away if it weren't for the weight of her glorious body to keep me on earth. She laid down upon me fully now as my cock began to soften inside her. Her perfect breasts pressed tight to my chest, and our breathing matched in a deep, synchronized rhythm. I wrapped my arms around her and smiled as we both began to slip into sleep once more. "I might be in love" I thought as the world fell away, "and she leaves in three weeks." Chapter 13: It's graduation day, so that means party time! I was sweating my ass off in the heat, seated amongst my fellow graduating classmates, but I didn't care. My friend Mike sat next to me, and was talking to me about something or other, but I didn't hear a word he said. My mind was on one thing and one thing only. I woke up that morning alone. The previous night had to have been a dream, right? But as my eyes fluttered open and the blur of morning vision dissipated, Stephanie's room came into view. It was no dream. I laid there, wrapped like a snake in the covers of her bed, and basked in my memories of the previous evening. Stephanie had opened up to me in more ways than one, and a night of passion and care where I had given her my full attention had ended with her taking my virginity. Stephanie, my step-sister's best friend, the girl who tormented me relentlessly as kids, took my virginity, and fell asleep on top of me with a womb full of my cum. I smiled at the memory, and felt a throb between my legs. I hadn't realized it at first, but the magic of "morning wood" had drawn my cock out long and hard. I enjoyed the feeling. I reveled in my erection, a proud reminder of my manhood, and every thought replaying the previous night's events in my mind just reinforced the solid structure. I turned my attention toward the bedroom door as Stephanie came padding in. Fresh from the shower, she had a towel wrapped around her head, and wore nothing else but a black bra and panty set. She stopped at the vanity mirror across from her bed, and began drying her hair. For a moment she didn't notice I was awake. Her reflection in the mirror afforded me the pleasure of taking in both sides of her body at the same time. Her tight, flat stomach and the swell of her supple breasts on one side, the curve of her long soft back, the bump of her perfect ass, and the full length of her statuesque legs on the other. I had been between those legs last night. I had been inside that exquisite body. The stiffness between my legs did not abate. I watched her in silence, when her eyes suddenly caught mine in the mirror. She tried to stifle the smile that formed on her lips, looking down as she did so. Clearly she was remembering last night too. "Morning," she said, catching my eyes again as she continued to dry her hair. "Morning," I said back. I couldn't stop the grin forming on my face if I tried. "What time is it?" "Its early," she said, moving toward her closet to find some clothes, "You should be able to get back home without anyone noticing." "Trying to get rid of me?" I teased, sitting up in bed. She chuckled as she moved back toward her vanity, draping her shirt over the chair. She shifted her weight to one side, flaring her hips out deliciously. "I've gotta go to work," she said, affixing her earrings, "and you've got a big day in front of you." "What if we both just, skipped?" I said, shifting myself over to the edge of the bed closest to her. Stephanie turned around to face me, resting her ass on the edge of the vanity, arms crossed across her breasts. "You want to skip your high school graduation?" she said with a cocked eyebrow. "I would," I said, getting up off the bed, revealing my stiffened state. I slowly closed the distance between us, led by my erection. She chuckled again. Her eyes flicked down to my hard cock. She uncrossed her arms and braced herself on the edge of the vanity. I leaned in close, and paused for just a moment to watch Stephanie moisten her lips with her tongue. I smiled, and went in for a kiss. She sighed slightly as our lips met. Our tongues quickly began to tangle and spar. My hand drifted up to her stomach and felt the smooth skin atop tight muscle, then slid down over her hip. My finger slowly slipped beneath the band of her panties. Stephanie suddenly broke the kiss. "Listen Tim," she began. My stomach sank. This was it. The rejection was en route. She would tell me I was a good guy and it was fun, but it was a mistake and we should just go back to;  "We need to be smart about this." Her hand came up and gently touched my chest. "What is your step mom going to say if she catches you coming in?" I smiled. I leaned into her, laying my erection across her thigh. I slipped another finger into her panties and started to pull down. She didn't stop me. "I'll tell her I was out for a run." "You don't look like you were out for a run," she said through a shallow breath. As my hands slid her panties over her legs, I followed them down till I was on my knees in front of her. "Well then," I began as my hands started running up and down Stephanie's golden calves. Her eyes closed dreamily, and she instinctively parted her legs. "I guess we'll just need to find a way for me to work up a sweat!" Stephanie laughed in disbelief as my head drifted between her thighs. "Good God, I've created a monster!" A loud gasp escaped her throat as I drew my tongue up between the lips of her cunt; she was already wet. I immediately lifted one of her firm thighs over my shoulder as my tongue lapped away at her sweet center. Good lord she tasted good. Gasping breaths quickly turned to squeaks and moans. One hand left the edge of the vanity and gripped my hair tightly. Her hips gyrated and humped at my lips and tongue as I pleasured her. Wanting to drive her completely over the edge, I took one hand off her thigh, quickly dipped two fingers into my mouth, and then slid them up into her sweet cunt, eliciting a loud, throaty "oh!" It was a cry of pure sensation, with no care for whether anyone heard her. My fingers massaged her tight walls while my tongue ran circles around her clit. Her body began to vibrate. Her breaths came short and fast between syrupy moans, and then all at once her hand pulled my face tight to her cunt, her legs clamped closed around my head, and I heard that sweet chorus of moans; short, short,long; as Stephanie's body was rocked by orgasm. Before her cunt even finished pulsing, her leg slid off my shoulder, and she pulled me up by my hair with a breathy "c'mere, c'mere." I stood up quickly, and she kissed me hard. Her hands frantically grasped at my hips, and she broke the kiss long enough to exclaim "Fuck me; fuck me right now, Timmy!" That name sent a thick throb into my already rock-hard cock. She grabbed at me wildly as she sprung her legs up around me. I grasped for stabilization on the vanity and pushed toward her, my lips never leaving hers. Stephanie found her dripping opening with the head of my cock, her heels dug into my back, and I pushed. She gasped hard as the head entered her, but only the head. I drew back, pulling her sweet nectar back with me. Her hand on my cock quickly spread it around, coating my shaft, and I felt her heels in my back, harder. I pushed again, and in a single stroke my entire cock was enveloped by hot butter. Stephanie and I both let out a low moan as I bottomed out inside her, but there was no time to savor the feeling; where last night had been about a slow, gentle experience, this morning was all about pure lust. Her legs and cunt wrapped tight around me, I grunted into her hot mouth and began to thrust. The vanity began to shake and knock against the wall as I drove my cock deep into Stephanie's tight body over and over. I could feel the grip of her cunt lips on each outward stroke. My balls churned. Stephanie was slick, wet, and welcoming, and I glided in and out of her with ease. Her lips left mine with a wet pop as she caught her breath. The sensation was overwhelming us both, and I felt her arms wrap tight around me. "Yes, yes, fuck me, Timmy, fuck Me!" she gasped directly into my ear. I fucked her hard and fast, completely lost in her cunt. I felt the hot spring of pleasure coil itself up inside my balls, and short cries escaped my throat as I tried to hold it at bay. Stephanie heard my cries of approaching pleasure and egged me on. "Yes, that's it, baby," she whispered into my ear between staccato breaths every time her body accepted my thrusting cock, "that's it, cum for me, Timmy; give it to me; give it to me!" I let out a low howl and pushed my stone-hard cock as deep into her as I could. My balls wrenched up tight against my body and exploded, flooding her sweet cunt with an eruption of hot semen. I buried my face into the crook of her neck as the pleasure pulsed through me. As my orgasm subsided we held each other quietly for a moment. The only sounds in the room were our ragged, gasping breaths. I peeled myself off of my step sister's best friend, pausing to look down at her body beneath me. The thin layer of sweat on her chest glimmered in the light as her breasts heaved up and down in exhaustion. Her smooth stomach sucked in and out, flaring her ribs with each deep breath. Her legs were spread wide, wrapped around my torso. Her cunt, her cunt was spread wide, wrapped around the girth of my cock. My cock was inside her. Inside Stephanie. My cock was inside Stephanie. It flared again with renewed lust. "Down, boy!" she chuckled, gently pushing me back off of her. I watched my cock slide out of her hot core, ringed with a white froth of mingled bodily fluids. A thin string of juice reached from the tip of my dick to her juicy cunt, the last bit of our connection holding on for dear life as I slipped out of her. I stumbled back and plopped down on the bed, spent cock glistening and not yet deflated. I looked at Stephanie's hot, erotically charged body, and watched my semen begin to slowly drip from her swollen lips before she began to straighten up. "Jesus, Timmy, you just might be a natural," she exhaled as she tried to get her bearings. My spent cock twitched again. "I'm gonna have to take another shower!" "You want company?" I said with a big, Cheshire grin. To say I felt cocky was underselling it. I had just rocked a woman's sexual world for the very first time. At that moment I was fucking bulletproof. "no!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "Now get out of here before that gorgeous cock of yours gets us into trouble!" She said with a flustered smile. I took in the sight. God, she was sexy. "Go!" she chuckled loudly again. I snuck out the back door, in order to come in the front door, hoping to cement my alibi of going for a run, should my step mom Kelly, or step sister Alexa catch me. As I rounded the corner and started toward the door, I heard a giggle. My eyes darted toward the sound and were greeted by a broad smile framed with fiery red hair. Sarah, my next door neighbor and long time crush, watched me as she finished stretching her hamstring on her front steps. "You're up early," she said with a grin. "I was, out for a run." I said unconvincingly. "Um Hmm," she scoffed through a smirk. Unlike me, Sarah actually had just come back from a run, judging by the spandex that hugged her blossomed curves. She stared straight through me. She knew where I had been, what I had been doing; it was written all over me. "Well, definitely a good day for it!" she lobbed at me, preserving my alibi. I nodded sheepishly and turned toward my door. "Oh, and Tim?" she called from behind me. I turned back toward her curiously. "Don't forget to stretch,” she said with a syrupy lilt. My face turned beet red. She bounced her eyebrows, bit her lip through her widening grin, twirled away from me and hopped up the stairs into her house. As I stood under the hot shower minutes later, my brain was vibrating with hormones, memories, and fantasies. Despite all the activity of the morning, my cock was rock hard again, and I stroked it furiously as I cataloged my thoughts. Thoughts of fucking Stephanie. Thoughts of fucking Sarah in her tight running gear. Thoughts of fucking them both. Thoughts of them fucking each other. My sore balls wrenched themselves up toward my cock once again. With a quiet grunt I fired out even more cum, this time against the wet walls of the shower, and for a quick moment my mind was perfectly clear. Oh, to be eighteen and horny. Sitting under the hot sun at the graduation ceremony, lost in a memory of the morning, I began to think about what all this meant for the future. I wanted Stephanie, wanted to be with her, wanted to be inside her every chance I could get, but what were we beyond that? She was leaving for college in a month, and surely she wasn't going to want the baggage of a younger boyfriend at a different school as she began the next chapter of her life right? Or for that matter, did I want to have a long distance girlfriend? I was determined to just live in the moment, but it was hard not to think about what we were, or what we could be. Just then I was snapped out of my day dreaming as the P A system echoed a name through my ears: Tara Austin. My eyes quickly found the stage as Tara, the girl I considered one of my best friends, made her way across the stage. She had modified her black graduation gown to have a fiery, red fringe along the bottom, and had lined the edges of her flat mortar hat with metal studs. The principal shook his head as she took her diploma from him, which made Tara beam. Ms. Dorman was on the stage with some of the other teachers, and Tara stopped to hug her before heading down the stairs. My mind briefly wandered to Ms. Dorman; Julia; and wondered if she and Ridley had secretly fucked before the ceremony. Or maybe they planned to afterward. She looked good today, in sensible slacks and a nice blouse. I thought back to the vision of her shirt being snapped open and her breast jiggling erotically as she was pounded by Ridley's crooked cock. Had she ever swallowed his cum? I wondered when the last time she had an orgasm was. Tara stopped at the far edge of the stage and curtsied at the crowd with a big smile, eliciting a few whoops and claps. She was radiant. We hadn't talked in a long time, not since the night we told each other the truth about our activities at the prom, and honestly I wasn't even sure why. I had hurt her, but I was probably doing more damage by running away. I was jealous, no which way about it, and I didn't know how to handle it. We had both entered into sexual relationships with extremely unlikely people that the other didn't particularly care for, and It had driven us apart. Surely we were good enough friends to get past this though, right? But then again, Tara hadn't exactly reached out to me since then, so maybe she didn't want anything to do with me anymore. Soon enough it was my turn to cross the stage in graduation, and as I made my way toward Ms. Dorman I swear she started to blush. She held open her arms and I met her with a warm hug. Her breasts felt soft and nice against me. "Congratulations, Tim," she said warmly, "I'm going to miss you." "Thanks, Ms. Dorman," I replied. She pulled away from the hug and looked at me with a smirk that almost felt flirtatious. "What'd I tell you?" "Sorry; thanks, Julia," I chuckled. She smiled and squeezed my arms. "Listen Tim," she continued before we parted, "talk to her. She misses you, I can tell. Whatever it is that happened between you two it's not worth losing each other. Just put in the work." I nodded thankfully. She smiled again, pulled me in for a final hug, and then I was off. I sat back down under the sun and ran through a lot of things in my mind. Julia was right, someone needed to break the ice, it was just a matter of how and when. "Hey," I said, turning to Mike, "what's the deal, is there going to be any sort of graduation party tonight or this weekend?" "Of course!" He chuckled, "tonight at Suzie Travino's. They're saying the entire graduating class might be there, it's gonna be wild." "Why the fuck am I only hearing about this no; you know what, that's cool, I'll be there." Ugh, I was so lame and out of the loop. Regardless, if the whole class was going to be piling into Suzie's house, that means Tara would most definitely be there. So I needed to be there too. I had a lot on my mind all day, but the celebratory dinner with Alexa and Kelly helped take my mind off things. We had a great time, and had just come home for dessert when Alexa's voice boomed from the hallway "Hey, look who I found!" I looked up from my spot at the kitchen table just as she entered with Stephanie right behind her. I smiled. "I heard there was a celebration happening - you get your first pube or something?" Stephanie and Alexa laughed. My smile quickly turned to a frown; she did it again. Hours earlier I had been balls-deep in this girl's cunt, and she was still keeping up the charade in front of Alexa. I was more than happy to keep our relationship, or whatever this was, on the downlow, but I at least wanted some respect. Unfortunately for her, two could play at this game. "Oh come on, Stephanie, you know full well how many pubes I have" I responded dryly, "or did you not count them while you were sucking my dick?" Alexa choked on her drink, and the color drained from Stephanie's face. "JESUS, Tim," Alexa said between coughs, "getting a bit aggressive, aren't we?" Staring directly at Stephanie I didn't let up. "Oh, you didn't know? It's true. In fact just just this morning Stephanie and I had hot, heavy sex on the edge of her vanity." There was a long, thick silence. I watched Stephanie start to turn beet red, not sure how to respond. Alexa looked at her in disbelief. I smirked, our roles finally reversed. Then in a loud guffaw, Alexa burst out laughing. "Hahaha oh my god, Timmy, that is hilarious!" The smirk quickly faded from my face. "Never in a million fucking years!" She continued to laugh in disbelief. I looked at Stephanie, who nervously chuckled along with her. "What's so funny?" Kelly said as she entered with a small cake in hand. "Oh nothing, Tim's just being gross," Alexa handwaved. Kelly set the cake down and began to cut. My eyes were burning a hole through Alexa. "Hey Kelly, how's Brian?" I said just as Alexa took another drink, causing her to choke again. "He's good, honey, he's been out of town on business, but he'll be back soon." Kelly said with a smile. "That's great, we should all do something together when he gets back," I continued, my smirk returning, "I don't think Alexa has really gotten a chance to know him yet." Now it was Alexa's turn to go pale. "That sounds like a great idea, Tim!" Kelly said. I felt a little bad, because I could tell Kelly was happy that I was expressing interest in meeting her new boyfriend, a man who would potentially occupy the same role as my deceased father, and in reality I was just trying to stick it to Alexa. There would be plenty of time for me to get over that though, and right now I had cake to eat. It tasted great. Later, as I was getting ready for the party at Suzie's, my phone buzzed. It was Stephanie. "So what was that about?" it read "I should ask you the same question!" I replied. There was a long pause. No bubbles, nothing. I got ready to shower, and right as I wrapped my towel around myself my phone buzzed again. "Pick me up from work tomorrow night; I have a graduation present for you." I was annoyed at her, but couldn't stop my cock from flexing in arousal underneath my towel. Fuck, what was this girl doing to me? "Ok," I texted back, and then threw my phone across the bed. I stopped to pick up Mike on the way to Suzie's. He and Kerri were apparently having some sort of spat, and he poured it all out onto me on the drive. I couldn't tell you what it was about though, because my mind was full of its own hormone-crazed problems, and I just "yeah" and "uh huh"-ed him the whole way there. We could hear the thumping bass even before I turned the car through the tall gate of the Travino estate. Suzie's house, a gaudy McMansion paid for by her father's lucrative law firm, sat at the head of a snake-like driveway. Cars were strewn all about the sides of the long drive, and after finding a decent spot, Mike and I made the rest of our way on foot. Passing by two classmates passed out at the foot of a large fountain, we made our way into the throng of young adults ready to take on the world. Or at least the world's largest beer bong. I think Mike might have been right; it seemed like the entire class was there. Possibly the entire school. We found our way over to one of several kegs, got some drinks, and tried to mingle and talk over the din of music and voices. Only half listening, I scanned the ocean of bodies looking for Tara, but had no luck. Suddenly I felt Mike's hand grip me hard on the shoulder. His eyes were wide and livid. Turning to where the dagger of his gaze fell, I saw Chet Phillips, the captain of the football team, chatting up a hot, busty number near the kitchen island. A hot, busty number with a big mane of curly, black hair. Oh my God, it was Kerri. Kerri had all the curves befitting her Greek heritage, she wore a shimmering, backless blouse that showed a lot of chest, putting all her genetic gifts on display. With no room for a bra, her tits hung free under the fabric, jiggling erotically every time she moved or laughed. Funny, I don't think I ever really noticed her tits before. Damn, they were nice. A black, pleated skirt hung over the swell of her generous ass, and her thick, soccer player's legs descended down into high heeled ankle boots. She was dressed to impress, and Chet was getting the full court press. Touching his arm while laughing, leaning over to "accidentally" flash her full cleavage at him, cocking her hips just so; Kerri was out to prove a point, and it was safe to say it was a point not lost on Mike. He was fuming. After swearing a bit under his breath, he muttered something about having to "go do something," downed his 3/4-full beer, and began wading his way over to the kitchen. I laughed and took a sip of my own drink. Damn, she had nice tits. Making my way into the living room I continued my search; no Tara. I saw some recognizable cliques keeping to themselves, AV club over by the window, drama kids over by the bookcase. My mind drifted to thoughts of some of those drama girls. We all had heard the rumors about drama club just being a constant fuck fest, and frankly I regretted never joining. I'd love to have had the chance to eat out star actress Alyssa Mitchell, or feel up mousey Chrissy Thomas; Chrissy was one of those magical girls who was tall, stick thin, but had huge breasts. Not even her black turtleneck could hide them tonight. I wanted to suck them. I wanted to put my dick between them. I wondered if she had ever wrapped those beauties around a hard cock, if they'd ever been showered with jizz. My lewd day dream was cut short, however, as I spotted the math team. Sitting among the glasses and bad haircuts was a bright, beaming smile and a blaze of red hair; it was Sarah. God she looked good. Still playing it conservative for the general public, a nice sweater vest sat atop a buttoned down blouse, expertly hiding the exceptional breasts she had herself. Sensible jeans encased her toned, runner's legs, slip on flats on her feet. She wore no makeup, and frankly didn't need any. No one knew what kind of body she hid under her clothes. No one but me and Tara. Her smile seemed to be lighting up the whole room, and as she tossed her cascading red locks over to the other side of her head, her eyes clicked over and locked on to mine. She turned that beam of a smile over to me, and raised her glass at me. I returned the gesture, and with a sip and a wink, she went back to her conversation. That wink. God, that wink alone got me hard. I decided to keep moving, and continue my search. Following the thump of the music, I moved out onto the patio, where flashing lights and bouncing bodies bumped and gyrated to the rhythms. I peered through the pulsating mass, and was stopped dead by the flails and swivels of a luscious figure ringed with a bright aura of red and green party lights. Mesmerizing hips drew me in as the red plaid of her skirt spun outward with every twirl, jingling the rings and chains that hung from her black leather belt. Black stockings ran from mid thigh down into the tops of white, Doc Martens. Bracelets bounced and shimmered on her arms as she drew her hands over her body, over the black tank top that covered her stomach and sank low at the neck, displaying the cleavage of two, perfect breasts. Cleavage that almost seemed to try and devour the bangles at the end of the long necklaces she wore as they bounced around her globes. Black, spiky hair reached toward the sky off her bobbing, lolling head. Dark eye liner accented her lashes. And her lipstick, her lipstick matched the color of my tie. It was Tara. She looked amazing. Lost in the sounds and vibrations of the music, the lights caught the gentle spritzing of sweat that shone on the flat of her chest. She danced with no one, she danced with everyone. She just absolutely exuded sex. I couldn't help but stare. Snapping me back to earth was a tug at my side, followed by a loud bellow of "Hey, Tim Miller!" Turning sharply, I was greeted by the quirky smile and thick, black glasses of class valedictorian, and host of this blow out party, Suzie Travino. Suzie was half Italian, half Japanese, and all cute. Definitely an egghead, but not in a traditional nerd sort of way, Suzie was the jackpot mix of smart, popular, good looking, and rich. Skinny, with small, perky breasts, Suzie wasn't really my type. Not that I ever had the chance, and not that I ever would have thrown her out of bed if I did, but she just wasn't my type. That being said, her small ass looked phenomenal in her tight jeans, and she cocked her hips out to the side as she continued. "Great to see you!" she said, punching me in the shoulder, "I feel like I never see you at parties!" She had a glaze to her eyes that told me she was already pretty buzzed. "Yeah, I'm a bit of a homebody," I chuckled, darting my eyes past her trying to find Tara again in the dancing crowd. No luck. "Well I'm glad you made it, dude!" She laughed and took another swig of her drink. "Listen, Suzie, I have to; " I began, when suddenly there was a big commotion of cheers and whoops coming from across the patio. Both of us turning toward the rabble, we saw the recipients of all the accolades: it was Bud Pepper and fellow classmate Mark Prepon. Both beaming ear to ear with embarrassed smiles, each holding the other's hand. They chuckled, they hugged, and then in front of practically the entire graduating class, Bud and Mark kissed. The whoops and hollers got even louder. "Wow, good for them!" Suzie squealed, clapping along, "they're so cute together!" "Yeah, totally," I responded, but my attention was elsewhere. Looking back toward the dance floor I desperately searched for Tara. Bud was the guy she lost her virginity to at the prom, and he was her, well honestly I wasn't sure what he was to her at this point, since we hadn't been talking lately, but he was more than a friend, that's for sure. My eyes scanning the crowd, finally I caught her. She watched the new couple for a moment, a bittersweet smile forming on the edge of her lips, and then she quietly made her way away from the crowd, away from the bright colored lights, and into the shadows back toward the house. I had no idea what she was feeling right now. I thought back to our conversation the last time we talked, and her dismay at being viewed as nothing more than a sex object, and here, now, was her, whatever Bud was, celebrating a relationship with someone who wasn't her. She was alone again, and that hurt me inside. Suzie's attention was still held by the new lovebirds, so I quietly slipped away after Tara. I followed behind her and watched her slip upstairs and into one of the rooms. Quietly padding after her I stood outside the room and paused. I was nervous, but I wasn't sure why. Tara was one of my closest friends, we had shared so much, and I wanted now to be there for her if she needed me. That was all I wanted, to be there for her. As her friend. At least that's what I told myself. I slowly opened the door and entered. The room was dimly lit by a single bedside lamp. Tara sat on the edge of a large bed, one leg tucked under, typing away at her phone. She didn't even notice I had come in. "Hi," I finally said. Her head popped up from her phone, startled, her big, doe eyes wide with surprise. Relaxing as she recognized me, she plopped her phone on the night table. "Hey," she finally responded. It wasn't cold, it wasn't angry, it was just, her. "I saw what happened down there, with Bud,” I began timidly, moving closer, but stopping at the tall bedpost at the corner of the bed. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I know you guys were,” I honestly don't know if I could have finished that sentence even if I knew what term to use. A warm smile pulled at her lips. "Nah, I'm fine; I'm happy for them." She chuckled a bit to herself. "In fact, I'm the one who set them up!" "What?" I laughed loudly. I plopped myself down on the bed across from her. It was instinct. Just like old times. "Yeah, Bud and I, we, never really clicked." Her eyes drifted for a moment. "We tried, but it became pretty clear pretty quickly that we were, interested in different things." "What about the prom?" I said with a slight crack in my voice. "That was, just something we both needed, I think," she said wistfully. "We learned a lot from each other though," she continued, "I think we both learned how to be comfortable with who we are a bit more. He figured out who he was, what he wanted, and I knew Mark had a crush on him, so I had no problem playing matchmaker." "Sounds like all that applause is really for you, then!" I said lightly. She chuckled and blushed a bit. "I was happy to do it. It makes me happy when the people I care for are happy." she said. I smiled in response. "Plus it greatly increases your chances of a guy-guy-girl threeway!" I blurted out. A comment like that would have been par for the course a couple months ago, but now I wasn't sure how it would land. Luckily she burst out laughing and the tension between us began to drift away. "You know me too well, Miller," she said through a warm smile. "What about you, Tim," she continued, looking right at me now, "have you figured out what you want yet?" I just took in the room for a moment. It was quiet. The thump of the downstairs music was audible but faint. The slatted door of a closet across from us stood slightly ajar. The warm, low light cast deep shadows across Tara's body. "Yes," I finally let out, practically whispering, "I want us to be friends again. I miss you so friggin' much, Tara, I miss talking to you, I miss laughing with you, there's so much going on right now that I barely know how to process because I don't have you to talk to about it. Like,” I didn't know where to start, “ like Ms. Dorman!" I exclaimed, "I caught Ms. Dorman getting fucked by Mr. Ridley the other day!" "I'm sorry, What?" She said, her big doe eyes going wide again with surprise. "Yes! He had her bent right over her desk, and was railing her from behind, and it was awkward, and it was hot, and it was confusing, and I so desperately wanted to talk to you about it." My franticness calmed down and sincerity returned. "I am so sorry I ever made you feel bad for a single second. You're my best friend, and I want you in my life, Tara. I just hope, that maybe you want me in yours too." There was a long pause that bound my insides into tight, cramped knots. She breathed in deep, and let out a controlled breath before saying "I do, Miller, I miss you too." Breath escaped my body desperately, and I somehow managed to begin breathing again. "That is so good, to hear, Tara," I wheezed. She leaned in and gave me a big, tight hug. We were going to be ok. Tara and I were friends again, and that's all either of us wanted. "There's so much I want to tell you, seriously." We broke our warm hug, and Tara leaned back again, a look of slight trepidation on her face now. "Well," she began, fiddling with the hem of her plaid skirt, "in the interest of full transparency I should tell you," she paused. " I'm kinda seeing someone." "That's awesome!" I blurted out joyously. I may have over done it though, as my positive reaction was masking a cold dropping of my stomach. I wasn't sure why that pang of jealousy came back, I was legitimately happy for her, but there it was. "How big is his cock?" I joked. Like I said - overdoing it. "Well the thing is," she began, but was cut off by the creek of the bedroom door opening. "Shit!" she said in a loud, panicked whisper. Frantically she grabbed on to me, and seeing no other recourse, reached for the closet door, shoved me inside, and quickly jumped back onto the bed. Still trying to wrap my head around what was happening, I watched through the slats of the closet door as Tara breathlessly tried to appear calm and relaxed. I felt a stir in my pants as my more voyeuristic tendencies began to trigger. I couldn't yet see who entered the room, but I watched Tara's perfect breasts rise and fall beneath her tank top as her eyes met this mystery entrant. It had to be the guy she was dating. Why else would she be so flustered to have the two of us in the same room? Suddenly a voice pierced the silence. "Hey, I got your text." My breath stopped short in my chest. I knew the voice right away, but I couldn't believe it. I strained my eyes around the corner of the closest door, desperate to prove my ears wrong, but it was no use. Then I heard the swish of walking legs and all at once my eyes confirmed the sound. Looking through the slats of the closet, the curvy, jean-clad ass of a woman entered my eye line. Slowly my eyes traveled upward, not wanting to believe what I was seeing, but reality became undeniable as they locked on her hair. That lovely wave of fiery, red hair. Sarah, my next door neighbor and longest crush, the girl Tara and I witnessed get thoroughly dicked down while we jerked off together, climbed onto the bed, leaned in, and kissed Tara passionately. Tara melted. Kissing her way down Tara's neck, Sarah's hand drifted down over one of Tara's perfect breasts and squeezed. Tara moaned, and her legs pulled up and wrapped around Sarah's body. The movement bunched her skirt up around her waist, and from my vantage point I could see the cheek of her ass peeking out from her black panties. Sarah continued her travels down Tara's writhing body, briefly kissing and squeezing all the landmarks, but with a destination firmly evident. Her lips traipsed over the bunch of Tara's skirt, and she wrapped one arm around an exposed thigh as she pushed her face between my best friend's legs. Tara gasped. Kisses peppered her panty-clad cunt as her breasts heaved up and down in overwhelming sensation. Then Sarah suddenly stopped, planting a couple kisses on Tara's thigh as she pulled away. Looping her fingers through the band of Tara's panties, Sarah stood up, and pulled. Tara smiled, lifting her ass as Sarah slid the panties down her legs, off and over her boots. Any concern for me being in the room was gone now, and Tara was overcome with lust. Her hands ran over her own thighs as they butterflied open, giving me a full view of my best friend's sopping wet cunt. I had seen her perfect tits, I had seen her body shudder and shake with orgasm, but I had never seen her cunt. Now here it was on full display. Her lips were swollen and wide with desire, glistening with moisture in the low lamp light, and there wasn't a strand of hair anywhere; she was fully, smoothly shaven. I wasn't sure when the last time I had taken a breath was. I was overcome with a million conflicting emotions. I felt betrayed that Tara was in a relationship with the girl she knew I had lusted after for years. I also knew I had no right to feel that way. I was jealous of both of them. I was guilty that I was watching this so clandestinely. On top of this all, however, I was hard as a fucking rock. Reaching down and grasping the hem of her sweater vest, Sarah shimmied her hips as she pulled it up and over her head. She then made a show of it as she started unbuttoning her blouse. Tara smiled and drifted her hand down between her legs. She dipped her finger into her wet cunt, and began slowly rubbing herself as she watched Sarah undress. I couldn't see the reveal of Sarah's ample breasts and tight stomach, but as her blouse fell away, I found the smooth swoop of her back to be intoxicating. Then, with a shimmy of her hips, she turned her back to Tara and I was greeted with a full view of her stomach and bra-encased tits. Those tits. Oh, my God. Large and pale, they sat high in a lacy bra thin enough to see her hard nipples through. Sarah undid her belt, and with a sexy cock of her hips began to peel her tight jeans down her legs. I got a good deep look at her full cleavage as she bent over, and my cock throbbed. Straightening back up, she looked back over her shoulder at Tara, smiled, and reached up and unsnapped her bra. Tara stood up off the bed and embraced Sarah from behind, wrapping her arms around the redhead's scantily clad body. Tara ran her hands all over Sarah, kissing and licking at her neck and collarbone as she explored. Sarah sighed, and gyrated her ass tight against Tara's crotch. Both breathing heavy now, Tara slid her hands up to the cups of Sarah's bra, and in full view of my voyeuristic eyes, almost like she was doing it for my benefit, my best friend pulled the fabric away and set Sarah's large, beautiful tits free. My hand went to my cock and squeezed. Tara pushed Sarah's tits together, eliciting a deep moan from the redhead. Sliding under them, Tara lifted those hefty breasts, almost presenting them, and then pinched their hard, pink nipples between her fingers. Sarah gasped. My hand slowly lowered the zipper on my pants. This was so wrong, but I couldn't resist. Tara's hand slithered down Sarah's body, over her stomach, stopping briefly at the band of her panties before silently slipping inside. Sarah's hips began to gyrate as Tara bathed her fingers in the hot wetness I had literally dreamed about. My cock was practically screaming. Reaching in, I pulled it out through the fly of my pants. I could practically feel its throbbing heat without even touching it. Sarah turned around, grasped at Tara's shirt, and quickly pulled it up and over her head. Having no patience for the clasp of a bra, Sarah yanked Tara's bra down off her perfect tits, expressing a startled gasp from my best friend. Her hands gripped each globe, and she attacked them each with her mouth. Sucking, kissing, licking, Tara's tits soon glimmered with Sarah's wet saliva. Every time Sarah's lips latched on to a nipple, a short sexy moan escaped Tara's lips. Holding on for dear life at the erotic assault, Tara's breath heaved, and her hands gripped and kneaded at Sarah's full ass, desperately working the girl's panties off inch by inch. Stumbling forward, Sarah pushed Tara back down onto the edge of the bed; Tara's tits bounced playfully as her ass hit the mattress. Sarah bent over, sliding her panties all the way down her pale legs, giving me a full view of her ass, her cunt lips squeezed between her thighs. Tara just smiled, and used the moment to remove her boots and climb fully onto the bed. I think I began to drool. Or at least my cock did. It stuck out firm and hard from my zipper and I was losing my self control. I wanted to be mad, I wanted to be angry, but more than that, fuck, I wanted to cum. Tara's legs butterflied open and closed again in anticipation; clearly an excited tick she had that I never knew about. It was adorable. It was sexy as hell. Her hand drifted back to her own throbbing, wet lips. Those glistening, aroused lips, I think I wanted to taste them. My finger idly traced along the length of my iron cock. A small, static shock of pleasure surged through me. Tara took in the view of the redheaded goddess before her and smiled just as Sarah took a step forward, grasped Tara's thighs, and slowly lowered to her knees on the floor. Tara repositioned herself, shimmied forward slightly, and let out a long, wet moan as my biggest crush's tongue began dancing all over my best friend's clit. It was all I could take. My hand gripped my firm cock and began to stroke. My eyes strained through the slats of the closet desperate to take in every bit of the erotic sight before me. Tara gasped and moaned, writhed and shook, as Sarah lapped and sucked. Her tits rose and fell, nipples reaching for the sky as her breath heaved in her chest. They jiggled delightfully every time she shifted to regain stability, or after an unexpected shock of sensation. There was no stopping me now, I was in a trance, stroking my cock deliberately while transfixed by this sapphic exhibition. Tara hoisted herself up onto her hands so she could watch Sarah's tongue perform its magic. They locked eyes and Tara ran her hand lovingly through Sarah's ginger locks. Sarah's hand drifted down over one thick thigh to meet her tongue at Tara's dripping center. Stopping momentarily to catch her breath and lube up her fingers, Sarah's lips latched back on to Tara's clit and in one smooth motion she pushed two fingers deep into Tara's cunt. With a loud moan, Tara lost her stabilization and dropped back onto the mattress, her lovely tits bouncing wildly. Her breath was ragged and fast as Sarah slid fingers in and out of her wet cunt in time with the tongue playing pinball on her clit. Regaining her stabilization, at least on one elbow, she ran her hand back to Sarah's hair, but this wasn't a loving caress, this was a wanton grasp, a fist full of hair to hold on for dear life as Tara rocketed toward ultimate release. I stroked hard and fast as I watched my best friend's face crinkle and grimace, eyes squeezed shut, mouth dropping open in a pleasurable "O." Her moans came faster and shorter, tits jiggling with every breath, a slight, wet slurping no

Fr. Patrick preached this homily on April 11, 2024 at Sacred Heart of Jesus Catholic Church in Wadsworth, OH. The readings are from Acts 5:27-33, PS 34:2 and 9, 17-18, 19-20 & Jn 3:31-36. — Connect with us! Website: https://shofjesus.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sacredheartwads Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sacredheartwads Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxgwnA59ZKlUcDJtEt8zPog

Experience the timeless wisdom and inner peace of this sacred tradition. This ritual fosters deep reflection, nurturing the soul for restful sleep imbued with sacred purpose. Immerse yourself in the serene sanctity of the Jewish bedtime ritual meditation. As twilight descends, embark on a sacred journey guided by ancient prayers and introspective contemplation. With each breath, release the burdens of the day, embracing a profound sense of calm and tranquility. Whispered psalms and blessings bind you to generations past, fostering gratitude and a sense of belonging. Bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight, seek solace and divine blessings for the night ahead.

Be prepared to go inside and face your fears or the fears suggested to you.Featuring:Beyond the Veil [Emily Walters]

On this segment of "Real Talk", the Ring Gang crew recap the first PBC on Prime offering featuring Tim Tszyu vs Sebastian Fundora in the main event

Experience the timeless wisdom and inner peace of this sacred tradition. This ritual fosters deep reflection, nurturing the soul for restful sleep imbued with sacred purpose. Immerse yourself in the serene sanctity of the Jewish bedtime ritual meditation. As twilight descends, embark on a sacred journey guided by ancient prayers and introspective contemplation. With each breath, release the burdens of the day, embracing a profound sense of calm and tranquility. Whispered psalms and blessings bind you to generations past, fostering gratitude and a sense of belonging. Bathed in the gentle glow of candlelight, seek solace and divine blessings for the night ahead.

Welcome to day 4 of our transformative journey with Rumi. As I craft this meditation, I find myself bathed in the ethereal glow and high-vibrational energy of the total moon eclipse. Harnessing the healing energies of this celestial event, I have channelled this meditation with its high-vibrational essence, intending for it to seamlessly integrate into the fabric of your practice, regardless of when you are tuning in. So - May the resonance of this lunar phenomenon infuse every moment of our meditation time together, permeating every word, every breath, and every intention. Together, let us create a sacred space where the luminosity of the moon and the wisdom of Rumi converge, guiding us on a profound journey of self-discovery and transformation. The total moon eclipse is a celestial event that captivates the imagination and stirs the soul. As the Earth, Moon, and Sun align perfectly, a mystical dance unfolds in the heavens, casting a veil of enchantment over the night sky. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon's radiance, the world below is illuminated with otherworldly brilliance as if touched by magic itself. In the presence of the total moon eclipse, nature seems to hold its breath as if in reverence to the cosmic symphony unfolding above. The air is charged with anticipation, and the stillness of the night is filled with possibility. It is a time of heightened intuition, when the boundaries between the seen and unseen blur, and the veils between worlds thin. With its ethereal glow and celestial presence, the moon holds a captivating power over the Earth and its inhabitants. Like a cosmic magnet, it exerts a gravitational pull that reaches far beyond the boundaries of our atmosphere, drawing us closer to its mysterious allure. This magnetic force is physical and metaphysical, stirring something deep within our souls. Under the moon's enchanting light, we feel a sense of connection to the cosmos, a resonance with the cycles of nature, and a heightened awareness of our inner landscapes. Just as the moon influences the ebb and flow of the tides, it also stirs the currents of our emotions and desires. Its luminous presence can evoke feelings of wonder, awe, and introspection, inviting us to explore the depths of our consciousness and embrace the magic that lies within. In the embrace of the total moon eclipse, you are invited to journey inward, to explore the depths of your soul and uncover the hidden truths that lie dormant within. It is a time of reflection, meditation, and introspection—a sacred opportunity to connect with the wisdom of your higher self and align with the cosmic heartbeat of the universe. Full moons are a time to set intentions of release. It's a time to let go and create space. It's a time to alchemise the darker energy within us. Preparing the mind, body and soul to have the space and capacity to magnetize new manifestations when the new moon arrives.  In this moment of celestial alignment, you are invited to release all that no longer serves you, to let go of old patterns, beliefs, and limitations that weigh heavy upon your soul.    DO NOT DRIVE OR OPERATE MACHINERY WHILST LISTENING TO RELAXATION AND MEDITATION MUSIC, BINAURAL BEATS OR GUIDED SLEEP RELAXATIONS. This work is not intended to substitute for professional medical or counselling advice. If you suffer from a physical or mental illness, please always seek professional help. All meditations, soundscapes and sleep stories are written and produced by Claire Charters from www.botanicaltrader.com and www.theomcollective.org

The Jewish Bedtime Ritual meditation cradles participants in a tranquil blend of tradition and spirituality. As dusk falls, they embark on a sacred voyage, guided by ancient prayers and introspection. Deep breaths usher in a sense of peace, freeing them from daily concerns. Each whispered psalm and blessing connects them to their heritage, fostering gratitude and belonging. Bathed in candlelight, they seek solace and forgiveness, preparing for rest under divine care. This ritual fosters reflection, nurturing the soul for a serene sleep filled with sacred purpose.

Fr. Roger J. Landry Ste. Marie's Parish, Manchester, New Hampshire Parish Day of Recollection: “Eucharistic Lenten Mission” Saturday of the Second Week of Lent March 2, 2024 Mic 7:14-15.18-20, Ps 103, Lk 15:1-3.11-32   To listen to an audio recording of today’s homily, please click below:  https://traffic.libsyn.com/secure/catholicpreaching/3.2.24_Homily_1.mp3   The following text guided the homily:  Today, […] The post Worshipping Bathed In The Mercy of the Lord, Saturday of the Second Week of Lent, March 2, 2024 appeared first on Catholic Preaching.

This week we spend our life savings on numerological sports betting meal deal life hacks at whop.com; and we quit school to work on our sports betting meal deal life hack startup with a grant from Molly Mielke's Moth Fund; and then we bathe in the bisexual lighting cast by a full screen view of Monotype's neuroscience type reports. Turns out we were right all along!

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Allow yourself to settle,  And find a place of calm inside.  See if you can breathe deeply into it,  And feel it expand with every breath.  PAUSE Breathe… Softly and fully. Feeling the calm spread through your body, Like warm water slowly pouring over you. Relaxing,  Softening,  And slowing you down.  LONG PAUSE As your body stills,  As your mind clears, See if you can touch the center of you. Luminous and warm, A golden, magical glow, Expanding and contracting with life as you breathe.  PAUSE Notice if there's any darkness. Any spots of gray inside.  Any tension or heaviness, Any doubt,  Any pain.  PAUSE And then imagine this golden light, Gently caressing them, one by one. Holding them with love, And dissolving them into particles of dust. Watch as they float off into the air, And disappear into the distance. Leaving you light,  And free.  LONG PAUSE Now come back into you, And feel the golden glow of your light, Grow from within.  Expanding past your body, Covering you in a sphere of vibrating waves. PAUSE See the gold dance with splashes of pinks,  Greens, blues and reds, Swirling softly around you. Your soul expressed in color,  Your love expressed in vibrations, Your beauty expressed in songs.  LONG PAUSE Feel your body dancing in this light, Bathed in the warmth of your aura, One with the energy around you.  LONG PAUSE Nothing can touch you here, You are safe and whole.  You are one with the divine.  LONG PAUSE Now come back to your center,  Breathing deeper now, Inhaling and exhaling vibrant colors. In, And out.  In,  And out.  PAUSE Rest your hand on your heart, As your breath brings you back to this moment. Refreshed, Protected, And whole.  Namaste, Beautiful

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Allow yourself to settle,  And find a place of calm inside.  See if you can breathe deeply into it,  And feel it expand with every breath.  PAUSE Breathe… Softly and fully. Feeling the calm spread through your body, Like warm water slowly pouring over you. Relaxing,  Softening,  And slowing you down.  LONG PAUSE As your body stills,  As your mind clears, See if you can touch the center of you. Luminous and warm, A golden, magical glow, Expanding and contracting with life as you breathe.  PAUSE Notice if there's any darkness. Any spots of gray inside.  Any tension or heaviness, Any doubt,  Any pain.  PAUSE And then imagine this golden light, Gently caressing them, one by one. Holding them with love, And dissolving them into particles of dust. Watch as they float off into the air, And disappear into the distance. Leaving you light,  And free.  LONG PAUSE Now come back into you, And feel the golden glow of your light, Grow from within.  Expanding past your body, Covering you in a sphere of vibrating waves. PAUSE See the gold dance with splashes of pinks,  Greens, blues and reds, Swirling softly around you. Your soul expressed in color,  Your love expressed in vibrations, Your beauty expressed in songs.  LONG PAUSE Feel your body dancing in this light, Bathed in the warmth of your aura, One with the energy around you.  LONG PAUSE Nothing can touch you here, You are safe and whole.  You are one with the divine.  LONG PAUSE Now come back to your center,  Breathing deeper now, Inhaling and exhaling vibrant colors. In, And out.  In,  And out.  PAUSE Rest your hand on your heart, As your breath brings you back to this moment. Refreshed, Protected, And whole.  Namaste, Beautiful

Fluent Fiction - Mandarin Chinese: Flavors of Chengdu: A Tale of Spicy Discoveries Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.org/flavors-of-chengdu-a-tale-of-spicy-discoveries Story Transcript:Zh: 飞鸟掠过数千年的古都成都，伴着日落的余晖, 在川菜馆熙熙攘攘的人群中，一个名叫李伟的男子手拿菜单脸色微红，他正钻研着菜单上密密麻麻的菜品名字。En: A flying bird glides over the ancient city of Chengdu, which has endured for thousands of years. Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, in the bustling crowd of a Sichuan cuisine restaurant, a man named Li Wei holds a menu in his hand, his face slightly flushed. He is studying the densely packed names of dishes on the menu.Zh: 陪在他旁边的是他的朋友，一个魁梧的人物，那就是张雷，一个从不怕辣的四川男子。李伟是个南方人，不太能吃辣，而成都，这个深厚的川菜底蕴所在地，却让他少许无所适从。En: Beside him is his friend, a strong and robust figure named Zhang Lei, a Sichuan native who is never afraid of spicy food. Li Wei, as a northerner, is not accustomed to spicy flavors, and in Chengdu, the birthplace of deep-rooted Sichuan cuisine, he feels somewhat overwhelmed.Zh: 李伟压着纸质的菜单，眉头微皱。看着一道名字鹅毛般浅浅的菜品——麻辣烫。他觉得名字诺大非吃不可，于是毫不犹豫的向服务员点了这道菜。而李伟完全没有觉察到，张雷的脸色已经变得有些异样。En: Li Wei presses the paper menu with a slightly furrowed brow. He looks at a dish with the name "Ma La Tang," which translates to "numb and spicy soup." He feels that with such a grand name, he cannot miss out on trying it, and thus decisively orders the dish from the waiter. However, Li Wei fails to notice that Zhang Lei's expression has already become somewhat strange.Zh: 这道名叫麻辣烫的菜品端上桌时，就像一把熊熊的火焰，映在李伟的面孔。麻辣烫的辣，沁润到每一滴汤汁里。En: When the dish named Ma La Tang is brought to the table, it appears like a blazing flame reflected on Li Wei's face. The spiciness of the Ma La Tang permeates every drop of broth.Zh: 李伟抿了一口，辣的几乎让他无法呼吸，辣椒味在舌尖跳舞，普天之下仿佛没有任何可以安慰他的存在。而这时，张雷，那个不怕辣的人，却安静的一口接一口，毫无畏惧地享受着这份辣度带来的刺激。En: Li Wei takes a sip, and the spiciness almost takes away his breath. The taste of chili peppers dances on his tongue, as if there is nothing else in the world that can console him. Meanwhile, Zhang Lei, the man who is not afraid of spiciness, calmly and fearlessly enjoys the stimulation brought by the level of spiciness.Zh: 就在李伟正准备举白旗投降时，张雷推了他一把轻轻说道： "给自己一次机会，也许你会发现新的世界。"李伟看着张雷平静如水的脸，瞬间觉得被激励。En: Just as Li Wei is about to surrender and wave the white flag, Zhang Lei nudges him gently and says, "Give yourself a chance, perhaps you will discover a new world." Li Wei looks at Zhang Lei's calm face, instantly feeling motivated.Zh: 那么大的辣度，张雷都能一口下肚，他为什么不能呢？于是李伟又继续尝试，一口又一口，慢慢的，他开始适应那激烈的辣度，甚至开始欣赏这独有的味道。En: If Zhang Lei can handle such spiciness, why can't he? So, Li Wei continues to try, one bite after another. Slowly, he begins to adapt to the intense spiciness, and even starts to appreciate this unique flavor.Zh: 飞鸟已经消失在黄昏，夜色撒满成都，麻辣烫也见底了，李伟嘴角带笑，深受打动。品味到了他从未感受过的味道，体验了他以为自己永远也无法适应的辣度。En: The flying bird has disappeared into the twilight, and night envelops Chengdu. The Ma La Tang is now finished, and a smile appears at the corner of Li Wei's mouth, deeply moved. He has tasted a flavor he has never experienced before, and has experienced a level of spiciness he thought he could never adapt to.Zh: 而那边张雷，看着眼前的李伟，微笑着点点头，这只是他的一片重情的朴素心意，让这个朋友品尝他骨子里的味道，领略他的故乡。En: Over there, Zhang Lei looks at Li Wei in front of him, smiling and nodding approvingly. This is merely a simple expression of his deep affection, allowing his friend to taste the essence of his hometown, to experience the flavor that runs in his veins.Zh: 同样是麻辣烫，对于他们俩来说，却有着截然不同的意义。对李伟来说，这是一份超越困难的表彰，对张雷来说，这是他故乡的味道记忆，而他们所有都发生在这个美丽的城市-成都。En: Although it is the same Ma La Tang, for the two of them, it holds completely different meanings. For Li Wei, it is a recognition that goes beyond difficulties. For Zhang Lei, it is a taste that evokes memories of his hometown. And all of this happens in this beautiful city - Chengdu. Vocabulary Words:flying bird: 飞鸟ancient city: 古都endured: 持续thousands of years: 数千年bathed: 沐浴glow: 余晖setting sun: 日落bustling crowd: 熙熙攘攘的人群cuisine: 菜品restaurant: 川菜馆holds: 手拿menu: 菜单flushed: 脸色微红studying: 钻研names: 名字dishes: 菜品friend: 朋友strong: 魁梧robust figure: 魁梧的人物native: 四川男子spicy food: 辣的食物northerner: 南方人accustomed: 适应overwhelmed: 无所适从furrowed brow: 眉头微皱dish: 菜品numb and spicy soup: 麻辣烫grand name: 诺大miss out on: 错过decisively: 毫不犹豫地

Bathed in the unyielding luminescence of the Emerald City, our intrepid companions stood on the cusp of a journey darker than the polished streets they would leave behind.  Dorothy and her stalwart friends find themselves at the mercy of the fearful unknown, their path pointed toward the lair of malevolence—the Wicked Witch of the West. The ominous warning of the Guardian of the Gates lingered in the air, a sombre prelude that no road could lead where they must go, and no desire should fuel such a dire trajectory. Yet, fate is an artist of strange brushstrokes, and it calls the courageous to step where no roads go.  And in the looming confrontation with wickedness distilled, our heroes would find the bounds of bravery, friendship, and self as they travelled the untrodden path to face the iniquity nestled amidst the West.

The thieves in San Fransisco may have stolen our first interview with Judy and Steve , but the magnetic pull of unfiltered conversation has coaxed us back to the mic, ready to embrace the wild and the wondrous once more. Today, we're unwrapping the gift of growth within the binds of kink, as  OG listeners (and now part of the KFLR cast) Judy and Steve, unfurl the silk of their 30-year-strong marriage now woven with the intricate threads of a female-led relationship and chastity. Clasping hands with the adventurous and the curious, we venture into the vibrant neon heart of Las Vegas, teasing an exclusive gathering tailored for couples seeking to spice up their stories with a sprinkle of Sin City magic. Meanwhile, Subby School beckons from the digital hallways of OnlyFans, promising a trove of tips for those eager to explore the depths of submission. Bathed in the warm glow of reconnection, we immerse in the stories of Judy and Steve's transformation, from vanilla beginnings to crafting a unique dynamic that's as much their own as the keys to their custom-made chastity device. Join us, and witness a tale of love's evolution, a testament to the ties that bind—and sometimes chasten—the heart.Takeaways1. Judy and Steve's journey demonstrates that relationships can evolve and adapt over time, incorporating new dynamics such as chastity and a female-led relationship. Their experience shows the importance of open communication and a willingness to explore and embrace change together in order to keep the connection strong and prevent growing apart.2.  The couple's story emphasizes the significance of tailoring the dynamics of a relationship to fit the unique needs and desires of the individuals involved. By making their female-led relationship and chastity practice their own, they found a way to deepen their bond and ensure that their partnership continued to thrive.3. Throughout their three-decade marriage, Judy and Steve encountered various challenges as they explored kink and adapted their relationship. They viewed these challenges not as obstacles but as opportunities for personal and relational growth, leading to a mature and natural dynamic that continues to evolve and strengthen their connection.Support the showAll Socials: https://linktr.ee/KrystineKelloggOwwll AppI invite you to enter my invitation code "FLR" for exclusive access and a FREE $10 to use to 1 on 1 call anyone you'd like! (Hopefully me!) Apple AndroidOwwll Podcast: Here Want to support the podcast and be involved with the behind-the-scenes, including voting on episode topics, as well as tiptoe with me into this whole "coaching" thing Find me on Patreon!Check out Control! (It's a psuedo-autobiographical storyline podcast that we produce)For more juicy content - Erotic Stories Podcast Spotify iHeartTheme Music by Wes @ https://www.fiverr.com/share/YokLQN (Thank you Wes!!!)Post Production for all Podcasts mentioned her...

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Take a moment, And with all your heart and soul, Greet the day. Welcome the beautiful morning. PAUSE Breathe in, and center yourself, Letting your mind and body Turn inward To that peaceful place inside. PAUSE Now, imagine a country meadow Unfolding before you– A meadow filled with  Thousands of blooming flowers. PAUSE The colors of the blossoms Dance before you, As a gentle breeze  Sweeps by, Kissing your cheeks. PAUSE The breeze swells again, And as it does, A daisy bows to  A black-eyed Susan. A primrose shimmies With a chrysanthemum. And a daffodil plays Its trumpet to the wind. The meadow is alive With beauty. PAUSE Now, imagine a path  Opening up, And you decide to  Stroll through the meadow. PAUSE As you stroll, Your fingers strum The flowers on each side  Of you, Strum them like a guitar, Feeling the velvety petals, And cool solid stems. PAUSE  You hear a soft buzzing, And observe a bee–  An artist of this beautiful creation– Continuing its work, Moving from flower to flower To ensure the life of this Natural wonder. PAUSE After a few moments, You gaze up at  A turquoise sky, The perfect canvas For all this beauty, And you feel gratitude  For this beauty. Allow yourself to express Your gratitude. PAUSE And, as you begin to Come back to your room, To your awareness, An understanding unfolds With in you: That you have the power To find real beauty in the world, To bathe yourself in beauty, No matter what is happening Around you. And that is truly a gift. NAMASTE, BEAUTIFUL  

This week Devo shares some great life hacks for when you're stuck in traffic, and receives some great life hacks about gift giving from Wolves of Glendale. Meanwhile, Dave Guhlow takes a lovely drive around the roundabout and Bathed in Blood get into a bit of a kerfuffle with a doppelganger! 1. "Just Give Me Cash" by Wolves of Glendale 2. "Around the Roundabout" by Dave Guhlow 3. News of the Stupid! 4. "Doppelganger" by Bathed in Blood Wolves of Glendale are at WolvesofGlendale.com Dave Guhlow is at DaveGuhlow.bandcamp.com Doppelganger can be found over the end credits of VHS 85 now streaming on Shudder Thank you to our Patreon backers for making this show possible!!!