Podcasts about Bereft

CONTENT WARNING - This show includes a sports massage. Not, like, as a free gift for you, though something could be arranged, maybe. Let's not completely rule that out right this minute. Anyway, no, it's a descriptive thing. One of our intrepid hosts finds himself needing of some physio so gets a sports massage. From two ladies. Both called Sophie. Look, if that sounds far fetched then don't blame me, I'm just giving you a heads up. The word "buttocks" is used. If that's the kind of thing that offends then, I dunno, start the show 10 minutes in. That's a rough guess as once this gets uploaded and ads are thrown in the mix my timings go straight out the window but 10 minutes should be safe... Beyond that, welcome to the latest episode of One Life Left! This week there's still no Super Special Keef but we have a jam packed show that includes potential Nintendo Game-Key Card shenanigans, the Post Trauma of releasing a game in the shadow of Oblivion, a footy game doing well (and it isn't PES, FIFA, EA, SWOS, Kick Off nor even Emlyn Hughes International Soccer!), Simon has a "hack" for getting cheaper Switch 2 upgrades and we ponder over an Outrun movie. We also have Ste reporting back on his recent trips to Switzerland and Reboot in Croatia, including all the gossip and The Art of Video Game Design covers delayed gratification! For some reason our mailbag is bare. Barren. Bereft of letters/emails/offers of cash. Only YOU can change this, dear listeners. Our lives and/or sanity may depend on your correspondence so PLEASE write to us at team@onelifeleft.com or join our Discord, chat amongst other OLL dignitaries and leave a letter for us on there. Link below! TTFN,Team OLL x Links:The OLL Everything Link!http://hello.onelifeleft.com/ The Maraoke Everything Link!https://hello.maraoke.com Block Words Link!https://blockwords.app/ The Shure link!https://tag.gs/OneLifeLeft_Shure Reviews: Blue PrinceHollow Knight Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

 Bereft of their hope of help from Professor Tad, Myra and her friend take up the burden of preparing for the school's approaching doom.Send us a textSupport the showGet in touch with the show:Show website: https://storiesforwonderfulchildren.buzzsprout.comInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/storiesforwonderfulchildren/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StoriesforWonderfulChildrenTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@storiesforwonderfulchildTwitter: https://twitter.com/storiesforwond1E-mail: Storiesforwonderfulchildren at gmail.A proud member of Kids Listen.

Michael Gleeson, Jake Niall and Caroline Wilson discuss the big change in the way the best teams play footy and why it’s killing some teams who had finals aspirations. Plus, the AFL’s first crackdown on players being pushed into danger in a contest, Hawthorn’s point of difference over the competition and the encouraging signs from Essendon.Support the show: https://subscribe.theage.com.au/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ten songs down on News of the World and only one to go after this week's episode! There's no Freddie. We're Freddieless. Bereft of Fred. There is a death, an absence, verily a Freddie-sized vacuum on this song. So, the question needs to be answered, will that dickhead Randy champion or dust it??? You're just gonna have to wait to find out I guess! We had a great little question, from our pal Dan Flett, about how hard it is to write lyrics without music or music without lyrics, a la Elton John and Bernie Taupin, so we get into that at the end of this week's show.If Randy were to title this episode, he'd probably call it "Napping on the pavement" or possibly, "City boy with trumpet sleeps rough!"Today's episode looks at another Brian song and one that he takes lead vocals on, in that dark, bleak Freddie-less void! It's "Sleeping on the Sidewalk" from "News of the World"!NOTE: Skip forward to 20:30 if wanna get straight into the manifestations and wheel spin.The song at the end of the episode is a little bit of bespoke noodling especially for this episode from the mind and fingers of The Cardinal, Randy Woods.Thanks to everyone who tuned in to the last episode and left us some comments on Facebook, Bluesky, and Discord! And while we're at it, come join us on Discord, we'd be glad to have you! We'll always try to answer any questions you have and seriously appreciate any corrections you make to anything we get wrong. And thanks so much for all your support as usual. We're loving diving into the Queen fandom as much as we're enjoying recording the podcasts!Follow us onFacebook: @seasidepodreviewDiscord: https://discord.gg/nrzr2mQjBluesky: @seasidepodreview.bsky.socialAlso, check out Kev's other podcastsThe Tom Petty Project: https://tompettyproject.comThe Ultimate Catalogue Clash: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ultimate-catalogue-clashAnd if you want to check out Randy's music, you can find it here:https://randywoodsband.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Britt, Lazlo, and Rupert cover everything from misguided new Heather Graham movies through to documentaries that no British person has ever heard of. Naturally all of this is filtered through Bob Hoskins love, and the nadir of humanity in a televisual context.   Can YOU get from Frances McDormand to Sam Worthington?

In this English letter, the Rebbe offers comfort to parents who lost a child in a shocking tragedy. The Rebbe emphasizes the eternality of the soul and how the soul relies on its loved ones still here on earth.

In this English letter, the Rebbe offers comfort to parents who lost a child in a shocking tragedy. The Rebbe emphasizes the eternality of the soul and how the soul relies on its loved ones still here on earth.

As Nazi tanks roll toward Leningrad in August 1941, an unmarried nineteen-year-old ballerina gives birth to twin girls in the soon-to-be besieged city. Bereft of hope, the dancer—once a rising star at the Kirov—slashes her wrists, but her babies survive, rescued by the devoted friend who arrives just too late to save their mother. The friend, too, is a dancer with the Kirov, and her tutelage and self-sacrifice ensure that the girls, Maya and Natasha, become students at the Vaganova Academy after the Siege of Leningrad is broken. We meet the twins as they enter their senior year in 1958. At once inseparable and competitive, Maya and Natasha have developed quite different personalities, with Natasha the leader and future star, Maya her loyal follower. But as they turn seventeen, various factors pull them apart: boys; the changing climate of Khrushchev's USSR; and the approaching end to their schooling, which even in a state-run economy doesn't guarantee anyone a specific place in the world. But it's when the state declares that, in response to recent defections by artists to the West, only one member of any given family can join the Kirov Ballet that Maya and Natasha must confront the reality that one sister's success will come at the cost of the other's. How each of them responds to that challenge drives the rest of this thoroughly engrossing novel. And although neither girl really recognizes it until near the end of the book, the choices each makes are driven at least in part by their determination to fulfill the goals their mother never had the chance to achieve. Weaving together such disparate elements as the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War competition that drove the exchange between the New York City Ballet's visit to Moscow and the Kirov's tour of the United States in 1962, the filming of Sergei Bondarchuk's monumental version of War and Peace, and the difficult yet rewarding training that produces elite dancers, Maya and Natasha (Mariner Books, 2025) explores the eternal bond between sisters while prompting readers to consider just how far they would go to achieve a cherished goal. Elyse Durham, a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with her husband, who is a Greek Orthodox priest. Maya & Natasha is her debut novel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

As Nazi tanks roll toward Leningrad in August 1941, an unmarried nineteen-year-old ballerina gives birth to twin girls in the soon-to-be besieged city. Bereft of hope, the dancer—once a rising star at the Kirov—slashes her wrists, but her babies survive, rescued by the devoted friend who arrives just too late to save their mother. The friend, too, is a dancer with the Kirov, and her tutelage and self-sacrifice ensure that the girls, Maya and Natasha, become students at the Vaganova Academy after the Siege of Leningrad is broken. We meet the twins as they enter their senior year in 1958. At once inseparable and competitive, Maya and Natasha have developed quite different personalities, with Natasha the leader and future star, Maya her loyal follower. But as they turn seventeen, various factors pull them apart: boys; the changing climate of Khrushchev's USSR; and the approaching end to their schooling, which even in a state-run economy doesn't guarantee anyone a specific place in the world. But it's when the state declares that, in response to recent defections by artists to the West, only one member of any given family can join the Kirov Ballet that Maya and Natasha must confront the reality that one sister's success will come at the cost of the other's. How each of them responds to that challenge drives the rest of this thoroughly engrossing novel. And although neither girl really recognizes it until near the end of the book, the choices each makes are driven at least in part by their determination to fulfill the goals their mother never had the chance to achieve. Weaving together such disparate elements as the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War competition that drove the exchange between the New York City Ballet's visit to Moscow and the Kirov's tour of the United States in 1962, the filming of Sergei Bondarchuk's monumental version of War and Peace, and the difficult yet rewarding training that produces elite dancers, Maya and Natasha (Mariner Books, 2025) explores the eternal bond between sisters while prompting readers to consider just how far they would go to achieve a cherished goal. Elyse Durham, a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with her husband, who is a Greek Orthodox priest. Maya & Natasha is her debut novel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

As Nazi tanks roll toward Leningrad in August 1941, an unmarried nineteen-year-old ballerina gives birth to twin girls in the soon-to-be besieged city. Bereft of hope, the dancer—once a rising star at the Kirov—slashes her wrists, but her babies survive, rescued by the devoted friend who arrives just too late to save their mother. The friend, too, is a dancer with the Kirov, and her tutelage and self-sacrifice ensure that the girls, Maya and Natasha, become students at the Vaganova Academy after the Siege of Leningrad is broken. We meet the twins as they enter their senior year in 1958. At once inseparable and competitive, Maya and Natasha have developed quite different personalities, with Natasha the leader and future star, Maya her loyal follower. But as they turn seventeen, various factors pull them apart: boys; the changing climate of Khrushchev's USSR; and the approaching end to their schooling, which even in a state-run economy doesn't guarantee anyone a specific place in the world. But it's when the state declares that, in response to recent defections by artists to the West, only one member of any given family can join the Kirov Ballet that Maya and Natasha must confront the reality that one sister's success will come at the cost of the other's. How each of them responds to that challenge drives the rest of this thoroughly engrossing novel. And although neither girl really recognizes it until near the end of the book, the choices each makes are driven at least in part by their determination to fulfill the goals their mother never had the chance to achieve. Weaving together such disparate elements as the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War competition that drove the exchange between the New York City Ballet's visit to Moscow and the Kirov's tour of the United States in 1962, the filming of Sergei Bondarchuk's monumental version of War and Peace, and the difficult yet rewarding training that produces elite dancers, Maya and Natasha (Mariner Books, 2025) explores the eternal bond between sisters while prompting readers to consider just how far they would go to achieve a cherished goal. Elyse Durham, a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with her husband, who is a Greek Orthodox priest. Maya & Natasha is her debut novel. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/historical-fiction

'E's passed on! This cat is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-FELINE!If Randy were to title this episode, he'd probably call it "Why dead pussy cat?" or possibly, "Unalived Kitty"Today's episode looks at arguably the best dead cat song in the rock n roll canon; "All Dead, All Dead"NOTE: Skip forward to 15:32 if wanna get straight into the manifestations and wheel spin.The music at the end of the episode is "Through The Years" by Kev Brown; the first song he ever recorded with Randy. You can find that here: https://youtu.be/Lk22VORICbUAlso, we played a little of the phenomenal Michael Kaeshammer's version of St. James Infirmary Blues, which you can find here: https://youtu.be/7JajzoxELEQThanks to everyone who tuned in to the last episode and left us some comments on Facebook, and Discord! And while we're at it, come join us on Discord, we'd be glad to have you! We'll always try to answer any questions you have and seriously appreciate any corrections you make to anything we get wrong. And thanks so much for all your support as usual. We're loving diving into the Queen fandom as much as we're enjoying recording the podcasts!Huge thanks to Corey Morrissette and Mark Camire for letting us copy and paste the format from their gold-standard podcast; And the Podcast Will Rock. You can find them at @PodcastWillRock on Twitter. Also, make sure you go check out our beautiful brothers and sisters over on the Deep Dive Podcast Network!Follow us onFacebook: @seasidepodreviewDiscord: https://discord.gg/nrzr2mQjBluesky: @seasidepodreview.bsky.socialAlso, check out Kev's other podcastsThe Tom Petty Project: https://tompettyproject.comThe Ultimate Catalogue Clash: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ultimate-catalogue-clashAnd if you want to check out Randy's music, you can find it here:https://randywoodsband.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Follow Dan on LinkedIn at linkedin.com/in/cotterdan Follow Pat on LinkedIn at https://www.linkedin.com/in/donald-patrick-eckler-610290824/ Predictions Sure To Go Wrong: Incubacol: Affirm Skrmetti: Affirm Schroder: Reverse Indiana Appellate case can be found at: https://mycourts.in.gov/arguments/default.aspx?&id=2933&view=detail&yr=&when=&page=1&court=app&search=&direction=%20ASC&future=False&sort=&judge=&county=&admin=False&pageSize=20 7th Circuit case can be found here: https://media.ca7.uscourts.gov/sound/external/nv.24-1559.24-1559_12_05_2024.mp3 SCOTUS case can be found here: https://www.supremecourt.gov/oral_arguments/audio/2024/23-477

“Your brother made the right decision and he's where he should be, which, I assume is jail or the North Pole.” Christel and Richard are back with pure criminal professionalism (unlike the subjects of the movies this time around)!  0:00 -- Intro5:08 -- Raising Arizona36:57 -- Snatch1:05:55 -- Good Time1.41:57 -- Contact information1:44:16 -- Awards and rankings2:40:32 -- Future business 2:46:59 -- Outro, and outtakes (ooop#38-tmd) Hey! Be sure to watch The Shop Around the Corner, Die Hard 2, and Anna and the Apocalypse for CHRISTMAS next time! Hey! We have a Patreon (Ours, Ours, & Ours)! Hey! DON'T leave us a voicemail at (801) 896-####! Hey! Shop the Zazzle store! Hey! Hear In Memoriam! Hey! Hear Fantasy Murder Love Triangle! Hey! Hear J.R. Watches Star Trek for the first time! Hey! Hear Christel and Richard on Turning Trekkie! Hey! Hear Andy on Kiss Your Franchise Goodbye! Hey! Subscribe in iTunes! Hey! Check out the Facebook page and vote on the next category! Hey! Check out Jon's YM&T Letterboxd list! Hey! Check out Roy's YM&T Letterboxd list! Hey! Email us at yoursminetheirspodcast@gmail.com! Send new topics! Send new theme songs!

Of Funerals and Families; Part One In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Victory is neither pointless, fleeting, nor soon forgotten. It is yours.” I have been warned that my Uncle wants me dead. My Aunts want me for; other things." "What do they want?" E asked. It was the whole 'men as a true asset' problem for her. "The whole repository of nefariousness;” Pamela started to explain, but then, "Double Word Score!" Pamela and I exclaimed excitedly then 'high-fived'. Yes, you spiteful Cosmos, I had found my soul-mate and she was a near-octogenarian with a macabre sense of humor; who also had a telepathic ability to know my mind. E looked totally lost in the exchange. "Yes; the whole repository of nefariousness was created to be sterile," Pamela picked up the conversation. "Which makes the very existence of Cáel here very noteworthy; virtually inexplicable," she mused. "What have the labs at Havenstone think of this?" Rachel worried. "I refused to go back in for any more tests," I met her gaze. "But it could be important," E joined in. "I will make it easy on you both; I'm a horrible person. I'm the Head of House Ishara and I elect to not put my fate in the hands of the same people who leaked my very existence to the Illuminati during the first set of tests," I stated. "Which is why I'm here in Chicago burying my Father, in case any of you missed it." "Certainly knowing what is going on is more important than the risk of further exposure," E persisted. She got kudos for sticking to her guns. "Esmeralda, I work for Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services," I responded. "By that I mean I have this nifty little glass table in a corner of her office. Me stressing over my genetics isn't really important. Katrina is on the case and I haven't been out of college for two months yet. If the difference between Havenstone getting in a fight with the Illuminati and keeping the truce is my blood sample, she'll let me know," I added. "As far as Ishara is concerned, Havenstone had an information leak that got a house member killed." "Do you have other family?" E inquired hesitantly. "Blood kin? Not in this country and certainly not anyone I could name," I sighed. "I case you are wondering, there are a grand total of three members on Ishara's roster." "Is the rest of your family safe?" E was trying to sound upbeat. "Safe? Of course they are not safe. They both work for Executive Services, Esmeralda. They were 'Runners' who I inducted into Ishara. They are Amazons of the Host and that means never being safe this side of the cliffs. Friday morning I presented them to our ancestors and they were welcomed as equals; as sisters to those who have the blood of Mycenaeans on their hands," I turned to look out the window. "What was it like?" Tiger Lily inquired. "The induction." "If you are looking for a vision of a stone hall with thousands of war-like Amazons holding me in judgment, you'll be disappointed," I recalled. "I had to create the ceremony from scratch; ash, tears and blood. "I felt strong enough about that instinct I let Desiree slap me until I cried enough tears. With Desiree's knife, I cut myself, they cut themselves and our blood mixed," I finished. "That is not how it is done," Rachel corrected me. "No," I stopped. "It is not how you do it. House Ishara has come back from the void that waits for all those who are dead and have no one living to recall them," I explained. "We are not the other Houses. We are both Love and Oaths and there is a lack of respect for each of those virtues in this World." "I never considered Amazons as overly romantic, but we are true to our oaths," Esmeralda was starting to bask in the openness of the exchange. "I do not doubt the integrity of anyone in this vehicle, except for me," I gave her a weary grin. "The failure of oaths is mine. Ishara was bound by an Oath and has failed in her pledge. You are wrong about the romance and I am sure you have misunderstood my definition. I live for the day when no sons are sent to the cliffs as newborns; Love, Esmeralda. Love." The hush pressed upon us until Tiger Lily pulled up in front of the Hotel Burnham. Rachel, E, Charlotte (from the second GL) and I went in. I wave the others back as I went to the desk. Rachel and Charlotte had grey duffel bags with 'stuff' inside. E had my minimal kit. "Cáel Nyilas with Havenstone," I introduced myself. Yes, I was in 'prison' gear. "Director Nyilas; welcome to the Burnham," he recovered quickly. "Which rooms do you wish to use?" Thank you, Helena, no I'm a damn Director. He twisted the screen so I could see the list. Eleven doubles and a Lakeview Executive Suite with two adjoining Deluxe Suites. "We'll use those," I indicated the Executive/Deluxe/Deluxe. "Very good, Sir," he nodded. "Will you be ordering room service? I'm afraid the Atwood restaurant has closed for the evening." "Sounds like a plan," I looked at his name tag, "Steve, or do you prefer Mr. McCabe?" "Steve will do fine, Director;” Steve started. "I will make it easy on you Steve," I sighed. "Call me Cáel. All this Director crap is for the benefit of people I barely know. I am here, in my hometown, to bury my Father; who was murdered yesterday." Steve paled. "The FBI gave me these spiffy duds. If any law enforcement shows up asking for me, give me a ring first." "Nyilas; from Burnham? I read about that," Steve seemed bemused. "The day shift Assistant Manager is from Burnham too." How wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Steven sensed my waning interest. "Your keycards, Sir; Cáel and my sympathy for your loss." "Steve, never miss a chance to tell your loved ones how you feel," I took the cards. "That is my biggest regret with my Dad. I didn't think about it the last time we talked." Steve gave a final nod. I rejoined my group and headed for the elevator. The rest was a tired blur. The rest of the group showed up, including Pamela. I called Nicole to tell her the situation then called Timothy despite the late hour to make sure he was okay. Timothy informed me that two 'psycho-chicks' stopped by as a kind of 'meet and greet'. I hit the small hotel fitness center with Mona, the fourth member of Rachel's team. It helped. What helped more was the constant reminder that I worked with smart people. Mona's mother was dead as well, killed on an undisclosed mission with the SD when she was ten. She could understand my sense of grief and confusion. We didn't cry and hug. It wasn't something she could do with a man. Give a decade, or two and she might come around. Instead, "Thank you for Constanza," Mona said quietly to me as we exited the center. "I measure a person's life in the lives we save; as well as the ones we take," I enlightened her. Before that moment, I didn't really consider killing people to be all that praiseworthy an endeavor. Today I had been in a situation where my life had been in immediate danger. I was glad the other guy ended up dead. Since I was prepared to keep acting stupidly, I was grateful for those who would murder people so that I could remain both noble of purpose and alive. "She is close to me; she helped me grow up after Mom was gone," Mona opened up a tiny bit. "Aren't you a bit angry with me?" I asked. "Initially, I was very angry. Then I heard your words and I knew you spoke the truth of the matter," Mona exhaled. "She should have died. She deserved death for what she said." "No one;” I started to comfort Mona. "For a member of a Faith that exults in the harshness of martial conflict, you spend an inordinate amount of energy struggling to keep people alive," Mona noted. "I'm glad I helped deal with those Latin Kings now. It was a mission worth doing." "What?" I stumbled. "Didn't Buffy tell you?" Mona regarded me. She smirked. "Yeah, we hunted them down late Sunday night and into early Monday morning. I doubt the few who escaped will ever be back." "Why haven't I; anybody heard about this?" I worried. Mona looked at me somewhat perplexed. "Cáel of Ishara, we always take the bodies of murder victims, cut them up, place them in large drums of acid and ship them to Canada," Mona informed me. "Ah; thanks for telling me that. Let's both agree to not let Buffy know that I know, okay?" I requested. "She'll get an inordinate thrill thinking she knows something I don't." "As you wish, Cáel of Ishara," Mona nodded gravely.  (Tuesday Morning) Sexual addiction is somewhat like military service. It requires you to be alert to your surroundings, think on your feet, follow procedures and; most crucial to me; shows you how to remain functional with minimal sleep. In this case, five hours sufficed to clear out my cobwebs and make me incredibly horny. All of that was despite the layers of upsetting news being placed before me. Executive Services had gone over the feed from the four SD members. Inadvertently, Dad had fought on the 'right' side. The team leader died first. Her back-up put two men in the grave and wounded a third before they tossed a grenade on her. I looked at Charlotte as she gave me the news. We both had a 'what the' expression on our faces. Grenade? I kept doing my calisthenics. The second two-Amazon group killed three attackers on their side of the building then charged the back door. I wondered if Mom's Garden Dragon was okay. It was like a Garden Gnome, except it was a Dragon. Mom was odd that way. The attacking group had blown the front door and entered the first floor. The Amazons in the back decided to shoot out the lock instead. While transiting the kitchen moving forward, the second group took fire; from a Zastava M 21. I was confused. "It is a modern Serbian weapon," Charlotte filled in the blanks. "Dad was killed by Serbians?" I muttered. "No," Charlotte sighed. "No he wasn't." Another look from me as I started my standing push-ups. "That team member was wounded. The shooter was taken down by both of our teammates. At this point, three other attackers moved from your front room to the dining room, pinning our team down. That was when your father broke cover and assaulted the attackers. He had this large lamp and cracked it over the right shoulder of the closest man," Charlotte stated. I knew that light fixture Charlotte was talking about. It was a floor lamp, nearly two meters tall, made of glass and bronze. My physique was from my Father; broad shoulders and powerful arms. That 'large lamp' weighed over 30 kg and, powered by my father's upper body strength, I was betting the guy who was on the receiving end had have some of his bones snapped. "The man screamed in Bulgarian, his two companions turned to see what was happening and the Amazons advanced by fire toward your father," Charlotte continued. "Your father swung again," she looked at me, "connecting with the man's chest. In response, the other two shot him three times. He fell. The second team pressed forward, killing the man your Father wounded and wounding another. The last unhurt Amazon was killed trying to get to your Father while the survivor was concussed by the use of a second grenade. We don't have the video of what happened in the interim. When the last Amazon began moving again, the two remaining attackers had dragged your father out the front door. She pursued and fired. She wounded the undamaged attacker; and one of her bullets ended your Father's life. She was wounded in this last exchange of fire. The two men helped each other to a vehicle and left." I kept working out as I made an acceptable collage of my misery. "Does she know?" I whispered. "Does she; the Amazon? Her name is Sabina. I don't think she's been informed yet," Charlotte answered. "Unless it becomes necessary, don't tell her that her bullet killed my Father," I sighed. "The only thing that is important to me; to Ishara; is that she gave her all as did her sisters. My Father was killed by the men who first shot him. Had they escaped with my Father, they weren't taking him to a hospital, so he was as good as dead anyway. That is all that matters." "Yes Ishara," Charlotte responded with quiet reverence. Knowing nothing of Security Detail's procedure and tradition, I had tossed out an excuse to spare a valiant woman a terrible piece of news. Charlotte's demeanor suggested to me that it would be a kindness conveyed. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tiger Lily came in from their suite. Mona had been my guardian while I slept so she slept now. This was our signal to shower and put on some clothes before the group went downstairs for breakfast. Pamela presented herself as I was getting dressed. Esmeralda's arrival signaled our migration to the ground floor Atwood restaurant. As everyone glided into the elevator, I had a nostalgic moment for Odette. A normal, non-lethal, happy young lady. This all-encompassing seriousness around me was crimping my efforts to find the silver lining in this personal calamity. Ten seconds after exiting the elevator, Nicole angled toward us then we proceeded to breakfast. It took a little jockeying and refereeing by me to get the seating arrangements set. Nicole was on my left then Pamela. Rachel and E were on my right. Charlotte and Tiger Lily were across from me as orders were taken. "How are you holding up, Cáel?" Nicole put a hand on my lap. I had no immediate reply. "Lonely. Sad. Alone. Bereft of anger; it is pointless. I want to scream, rage, tear things up, throw things across the room and hear them shatter; but not really," I confessed. Suddenly, a strange essence infused my core. "No, that's wrong. I am not alone. We have suffered more, lived through worse and never wavered even in the face of death," I said in a ghostly whisper. That was really the last thing I wanted to say. Its origin was from an enigmatic corner of my mind I was resisting venturing into. 'Taking oneself to the cliffs' made a whole lot more sense suddenly. The Amazon prepared her daughters and granddaughters for her absence. She volunteered to make that trek. In her heart, she called out to her Ancestors to prepare them to accompany her on that final journey. That all sounded like comfortable spiritual mumbo-jumbo, safely quoted by a rational man under duress. The abyssal rift in that psycho-babble, makeshift patch over my emotional pain was I felt Vranus and Ishara standing at my shoulders. Vranus because his seemingly endless quest was finally resolved and he and his descendants would at last be welcomed into the halls of their kin. With me, he had succeeded and brought his people home. There was still the matter of the rest; the three sons of Arinniti and the elder warrior. Holy Crap; they were still out there, waiting to be shown the path home. My 'Evenly Holier Crap' moment was feeling the weight of the eyes of Ishara upon me. Not Ishara, the matron goddess of this; my House, but that ancient Amazon who had surrendered her personal name to oblivion to give her followers a sense of unity. No female was solely 'her' daughter; all the women of the house were equal in birth and station. It was that Ishara who stood at my shoulder and, beyond some perverse desire to look behind me to see how sexy she was, I felt I had her; not approval; her mandate. We had to be held to our oaths and would die to a woman (and man) for them. We were to give the Host a second chance to make things right. There would be no retreat. It was not in the Amazon psyche to fight the relentless, remorseless and bloody battle; to risk everything on victory with no thought of failure. It was not something guys were accustomed to, but had been the doom of men down through the ages. Whether too romantic, too stubborn, or too bound to our brother's in arms, men had embraced hopeless causes before; mostly perishing without fanfare yet with the exceptional impossible victory to give us hope. From time immemorial, male kin of the flesh and spirit had piled their corpses one upon the other, refusing the verdict of combat for the sake of brotherhood and every imaginable ideal. It was hardly a trait worth sharing with the sisters. They would understand the pieces; not the result. My lack of political ability would not be disability. I simply had to learn to fight; a lot better than I did at that moment. The echoes of this message inside my head, the chilled air that filled my lungs and balance restored to my heart was bizarrely unfrightening. It would be an affirmation of the 'first directive' oaths all the houses had sworn. It wasn't my place to raise all the 'Runners', or even a single one. It was my duty to initiate the 'Worthy', no matter their number. My actions were mine. I would not shame the other houses. I would not consider their prestige at all. It was not my place in the same way it was not their place to tell me what I could and couldn't do. It was a divine 'Go get 'em' and it felt pretty, freaking awesome. "Cáel, are you okay?" Nicole asked in a worried tone. She squeezed my thigh. I looked down at my hands. I was okay. "Nicole, I have the blood of Ahhiyawa champions on my hands. I feel it's sticky, sickening ichor and smell the copper-laden, metallic odor," I smiled. "I think I'm going to be just fine." "Who?" Nicole was even more concerned. "Someone who screwed with me a long, long time ago. They are all dead, but don't worry about the bodies showing up to bother anyone," I grinned. All the full-blooded Amazons had been very still. The word 'Ahhiyawa' appeared to scare them even more than my haunting actions. To the Amazons, the Ahhiyawa were the Mycenaeans in the time of the Iliad. The problem seemed to be that I had never heard any member of the Host use that term and I was suddenly curious as to why. "You seemed to have went away for a few seconds," Nicole joked lightly. "You do appear better rested, which is good. What is on the agenda for today?" "Get my Father's body, prepare for his cremation, arrange for the last Roman Catholic Church we attended to send somebody to the service and prepare my parent's plot," I ran down. "I imagine the police and feds will want to contact me again," I piled it on. "I want to see my home if the forensic guys let me. What do you think will be aimed at me?" "We'll check up on any family attorney you may have had along with probating your father's Will, if he had one," Nicole assured me. "As for the authorities, let's see what kind of warrants they are asking for before we move beyond a 'denial' defense." "Denial, as in me claiming I didn't do anything because, ya know, I didn't do anything," I gave her a sleepy smile. "How about we eat first?" We ordered, drank our coffee, tea and juices while remaining largely non-communicative. It wasn't until the food began arriving did I realize I'd 'misplaced' Pamela once more. As I tore into a big slab of ham, I looked over my surroundings for the first time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I spotted Pamela then the 'big picture' kicked me in the nuts. Pamela was dressed as a server, coasting about the room, filling drinks, getting appetizer and performing the tedious little chores that waiters and waitresses had to pull off flawlessly. The other wait-staff noticed Pamela, but since she was making their jobs easier and not taking their gratuities, they ignored her. They probably thought she was some industry expert. The plates were being cleared away when Pamela returned, back in normal clothing. She dumped a pile of ID's on the table. Nicole picked them up. "Chicago PD; Organized Crime Taskforce," Nicole read off then glanced to Pamela. "ATF, Homeland Security, FBI, FBI, Chicago PD; Homicide, Federal Marshall and Federal Marshall." "What?" Pamela said between bites of her veggie omelet. "I took their identification, not their wallets. Do you want me to go back for those too; and their keys?" "No. We have risked Mr. Nyilas' freedom enough for one meal," Nicole shot back. She took Tiger Lily's empty plate, dumped the ID's on it then covered the pile with her handkerchief. "Hello," this officious young lady greeted us. I'd been distracted by Nicole's malfeasance so I missed the hotel's new Assistant Manager's approach. It was turning out to be a great morning for visitations from my past. This ghost was much younger than the last ones. Our eyes met. It was easy to see that I was the man in charge being the only man at the table. "Director Nyilas, I hope everything is going well for you and your staff this morning," she smiled. "I would also like to convey the Hotel Burnham's condolences at the passing of your father. I too was born and raised in Burnham." I already knew where she'd lived most of her life. Most critically, I very strongly recalled where she'd gone to school; all 12 grades plus K. "Cameron Sanders," I stood and extended my hand across the table. "You look familiar." Of course she looked familiar. Cameron had publically ground my soul into the grit that ants stepped upon. Her verbal rejection had been a pivotal moment in my life. After that day, I had taken responsibility for my life both anatomically and academically. Recall how I had said I was once a 'nobody'. Here was living proof. Cameron and I had gone to the same schools from Kindergarten through our senior years. We'd even shared classes and it wasn't like I could be confused with all the other 'Cáels' we'd gone to school with; because there weren't any. The same goes for 'Nyilas'. I'd been shifting the boner in my pants for three solid years because of Cameron. She had been hot in high school and she was even better looking now; Brooke hot. For a second, my confidence wavered. In that heartbeat, I realized she was just another woman and I was no longer that guy. "Where you an upperclassman at Thornton Fractional North High School?" she queried. "Hmm; do you recall Jenny Forrester?" I countered. Cameron knew her African-American rival, no doubt. The tweak in her smile said as much. "I'm going out on a limb; you look like a DePaul girl." Cameron's eyes twinkled. Her eyes flitted down to where her class ring normally held court. She had taken it off for work neutrality. "How did you guess?" Cameron tilted her hip suggestively. Sex. "So I'm right?" I reposed. I had 'guessed' right because Cameron crowed about her decision to go to DePaul over all her other offers. "I have some family business to take care of, Cameron," I nodded. "Can we catch up later today and figure out where we've intersected before this morning?" Translation: I'm going to screw you. Not 'I want to', but 'I will'. I could normally figure out a woman in an evening. I had a three year backlog of data on poor Cameron. My Pivotal Goddess was an 'upfront' girl. Her façade was bravado backed by the fear of not measuring up; not being good enough. My mistake in High School was approaching her, hat in hand. Cameron felt best when someone took the tough choices away from her. If she didn't lead, she couldn't fail by her way of thinking. Dad had stood by me that night when he came home from work. I was a broken wreck of a teenage boy. Dad hadn't told me to toughen up and he hadn't been sympathetic. All he wanted to know was what I was going to do about it. What was 'I' going to do, as if I could be the master of my own fate. That was my Dad. The next day I started working out, eating better and taking better care of myself. He was dead; still dead yet my feelings over that had evolved. He was with my ancestors now, waiting for me and my sons and daughters. Looking at it that way, he wasn't really gone at all. "I'll see what can be done," Cameron smiled. I was going to eat her up. "Oh yeah, this plate was mistakenly delivered to my table," I indicated Pamela's illegal haul. "Could you see that it gets where it needs to go after we are gone?" Cameron shot me a sultry smile without even giving her task a casual glance. A hideous tip (kudos to Odette) was added to our over-priced bill and the ladies and I retired to our rooms. It was routine heading to our room. Mona waved us to silence. Then the 'bug hunt' began. Like every Amazon persecution of opposing 'life forms', they didn't play fair. The Amazons had placed electronic surveillance in the room before they left so when unwelcomed guests showed up while we ate and Mona 'slept' we could watch where they placed their goodies in our rooms. This was not a matter of throwing a fit and tossing the electronic devices down the garbage disposal. Oh no, not in Amazon battle lore. They found out what frequency your device was broadcasting on and backtracked it. According to Tiger Lily you can use a source point and a handheld device to triangulate the receiver. Then the fun begins. First, keep the original signal going. Put a subroutine of; oh, all kinds of credit card fraud in this case with the video file then call the appropriate law enforcement agency to bust the place. The subroutine would have no point of origin, so the Amazons would be safe. The spying agency would have a headache on their hands. Credit card fraud would require them to confiscate all the equipment because the threat posed was real, even if the tip was now suspect. This was the Amazon equivalent of fixating the enemy at one point; surveillance; while making their real move on another; the funeral. The average Amazon funeral was a private affair. My Security Detail was modifying plans for an Amazon dignitary's attendance of another Society member's funerary rites. Halfway through the deception plan, Special Agents Brock and John showed up at our door. With two law firms (Pratt's and Nicole's) dancing on their foreheads, they were being polite today and inviting me down to be questioned. I asked for Detective Lisa and Investigator Horace to be there. One: I didn't dictate who investigated me. Two: they were under Internal Affairs review. I agreed with 'one'; I would say 'nothing' to any number of highly qualified law enforcement operatives. I might give answers to the two I had mentioned. 'Two' was none of my affair. They could hope for some answers when they chose the review would be over. I was more than happy spending a lifetime not talking to them. Legalize was tossed around to the point Nicole yawned, pointed out none of them were attorney's with the United States District Court of the Northern District of Illinois; damn, that's some letterhead, and they could make no deals, grant no immunities, on their own. There was no talking to be done except for the ass-reaming the Court of Appeals was going to give both the Federal attorney who applied for the surveillance warrant and the judge who signed it. Low and behold, phones began ringing. As a patrol unit was making a raid on a room three floors down, a series of shots rang out. A gun battle ensued between the three armed men in the room, the two patrolmen (women actually) and the entire misfortunate event was caught on NBC Channel Five news. Occasionally I forget I work for fundamentally viciously sick fucks. My 'team' had sent the cops and the news crew to the spot and even supplied the ignorant housekeeper with the room card-key for the cops to break in with; a hotel room is not a private dwelling. Cops break in, do their 'freeze, we are the police' thing, but before the three feds in the room could reply, 'their' computer audio equipment let off a sound of bullets firing and ricochets echoing across the room. Nature took its course after that. The feds drew and both sides began shooting. No one died, but one ATF guy was going off to surgery. They would have all earned Purple Hearts if they had been in the military and a commendation no matter what; had two law enforcement agencies not shot each other up. The chase was on for the news crew who was desperately trying to get their station to show the footage before the feds grabbed the memory cards. Despite having had no part in that fiasco, Nicole immediately clued in that the moment our two feds ran off to help their comrades it was our time to leave. Did we go to the vehicles we came in? No. That would have exhibited a lack of paranoia my guardians would have found appalling. Two new car waited a block away. Had I been better at this game, I would have noticed the lack of functioning traffic cameras around us. Instead, I went begging to the local diocese of the Catholic Church. I plead my case. Mom and Dad were devout, raised me to be a devout Catholic yet when my Mother died, my father had never gotten over the trauma and me, being a young man, hadn't explored my spirituality yet; but I promised I'd get right on it when I returned to New York. The priest who handled the end of life stuff for the Church was sympathetic. He gave me the name of a local priest near my home I could talk to on my return. He also told me that he'd received a moving letter from a nun in Uganda about a deeply spiritual moment she had shared with me years ago, so he was onboard with giving my Dad a Catholic send-off. I wasn't sure if that was a sign to never touch a wannabe Nun again, or a reminder that nun's gave incredibly positive feedback on their sexual misadventures. I went with the latter. A few more calls, the choosing of the proper crematorium and I was through with the first part of that ordeal. Next came the funeral notification and invites. The Union would send some of Dad's closest co-workers and several neighbors said they'd show up as well. Flowers, clothes, wake; well, it couldn't be in my family home. The forensic team was gone and it was free for me to wander through, but the bullet holes and blood might put a damper on the ambience. In the midst of my worries, I got a call. A polite man named Winchell Sokolowsky offered me the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion for my personal use. If there is any doubt, Chicago is Not the city of good Samaritans, the overly polite, or even the casually kind. Chicagoans pride themselves on being tough. We have plenty of good people who help out, volunteer and try to make life easier for their fellow man. That does not encompass giving a random stranger use of a multi-million dollar mansion. If I hadn't already been living in fantasy land, I'd have been busy figuring out which one of my few male friends was pulling this prank of on me, but no. "Can I inquire about the source of this largesse, Mr. Sokolowsky? Take in mind the incredible likelihood of a government agency most foul listening in," I cautioned him. "A family friend," he responded with an amused snort. Yeah, cause my Father's funeral was all chuckles for me. Since crab-women weren't likely to know owners of mansions, this had to be my aunts. Woot. "Thank you sir. My security people will be over to sweep the place before the city, state, or federal governments can crank out another search warrant. Thank you again." "That is not unexpected," Sokolowsky replied. "Until then." Rachel looked at me as if I'd done something absurd. She may have been right. "Did you just accept shelter from an individual we do not know; except that he is certainly part of the Protocols?" she stared at me. "Come on now," I chastised her. "It's for a funerary wake. I'm not taking three hundred of the lads out for a stroll, chasing savages up the Little Big Horn, or an Irishman deciding that Oliver Cromwell is a man of his word." I leaned in and winked to Rachel. "Besides Charlie; I got an angle." Pamela, who just happened to be walking by, gave me another high-five. Rachel was really learning to hate/dread those moments of synergy between Pamela and I. "I am not allowed to kill you and I am afraid I can't kill Pamela, but please don't think I don't want to do both," Rachel ratcheted up her displeasure. "Torn into itsy-bitsy pieces;” Pamela started. "And buried alive!" I finished. Another high-five. "You two are both insane," Rachel despaired. "That's the spirit," Pamela and my comeback to Rachel was in synch once again. To prove I wasn't heartless, I hugged Rachel. She froze, arms at her side, caught between warring impulses. I maneuvered her arms around until her hands rested on the back of my hips then rested mine on the small of her back. "Rachel, I cannot go back to a safe, faceless existence," I whispered as I planted tender kisses on her forehead. "To do so would be a betrayal of; me; Ishara." Rachel let go of her emotions and rested her head against my shoulder. "Why couldn't I be tasked to do something sane; like fight drug cartels, Maoist insurgence, or corporate hit squads in the Amazon?" she sighed. I moved my hands to her ass and gave them a nice fondle making sure to slowly grind her waist against my hips. Humping her would have been a mistake. That was sexual. I was giving her a bit of physical appreciation and nothing more. Rachel tilted her head up, I brought mine down until we were nose to nose. "Promise me you will try to stay alive, Cáel," she sounded almost mournful. "I will make a deal with you," I stated. "If I make it back to New York alive, you will consent to have sex with me." Rachel was confused, suspicious yet aroused. "None of this 'one hour' in some dormitory, or nunnery cell. I want everything; a light meal, some quality touching time and a minimum of two rounds of orgasmic sex." "Ah; not a scratch," Rachel counter-offered. I nodded, kissed her nose and she felt as if she'd won something. Rachel got ready to take us to our next stop. Pamela slipped past me. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," she whispered. I had never used that term out loud before. "That's what I would say," she clarified. She was my evil psychic twin grandmother. It was through a tireless group effort that I made it back to the Hotel Burnham at 4 p.m. Cameron made a show of being busy when I first came back. I was willing to be patient. While she puttered around, I flirted with the desk clerk and one of the baggage attendants; pale skin, blonde hair with freckles and light brown skin, black hair in a Nubian weave. This was the 'professional' lure. By presenting myself as a 'Man's Man' and garnering female adoration, I was clearly not (yet) that into her. The pressure was on her and Cameron didn't like pressure because pressure equated to the possibility of failure. Her advantages which were obvious to every other observer were not certainties to her. Contest time. "Director Cáel Nyilas," Cameron interrupted my joke to the two ladies, "I'm finished up for the day." I gave a quick smile to the women I was about to leave then turned on my personal demon. "Should I wait in the lounge until you change?" "No," I waved off her objections. "You can come up to my suite and then we can go to your domicile for you to change for a night out." Quick visual clue update: she lived at home with her parents yet dated enough that it wouldn't be awkward. It also showed me that she was uncomfortable about going to my room. She wasn't so enchanted she would do something stupid. I had the answer to that. I had made it a public declaration. Not only did my hovering troop had the news, so did her front desk. Nothing bad could happen to her if everyone knew where she was; right? On the elevator ride up it was just me, Cameron, Pamela and Esmeralda. The rest travelled on ahead. She took one rear corner so I took the other. I then let my leather-soled shoes slide down the carpet, lowering my overall height compared to Cameron. At some point, I began back-spinning my feet, pretending to be on the edge of falling on my ass. I smiled at Cameron and her eyes sparkled at the vaudevillian gesture. Know your prey and I knew way more about Cameron than was healthy for any girl. For instance, she loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton; more of a Keaton girl. She giggled then came to my rescue. She was wrapping me up in her arms while mine stayed safely away. "You are a bit of a joker," she teased me. "Your beautiful smile makes all that effort worthwhile," I truthfully pledged to Cameron. She sighed so contentedly. Behind her back, Pamela was loading a two-barreled hunting device, aiming at some surface-based, above ground structure with an open top and gave it both barrels while avoiding the imaginary back-splash. 'Looks like herring for dinner,' she mouthed with a wicked grin. Esmeralda was soaking it in. Hadn't I pounced on Rachel a few hours earlier? I was definitely hooking Cameron and reeling her in for some sexual deviant purpose; and Pamela was mocking the whole situation. E turned and faced the doors. "You seem like a really nice guy," Cameron murmured. "I mean that in a good way." "I can't see you as any way, but truthful and kind," I met her cherished countenance. "I imagine even harsh lessons are difficult for you to deliver." There; she had one last chance to figure out the poor schlub she'd crushed at the start of our senior year was me. "Being a leader can be very tough," she moped as she pressed into me. My mumbled offerings of affection and her savage reprisal had never registered with her. I was going to eat her alive. "How about I take care of you tonight?" I requested. She hesitated, not out of fear, but confusion. "Completely relax and I'll make the decisions for this one night. Your mind will be free to enjoy and discard at your pleasure." On most levels, Cameron was seeing this as a date. She was a 'dating' girl. She didn't give up the goodies until date three, if I was exceptionally good; date four, or five otherwise. I was about to dispose of that with a clever case of role reversal. My two staffers vanished as I entered my lakeside executive suite. A splendid view I thought I'd never be able to afford the last day; The 28th of December. I had enough money for a flight and a date picking me up at the airport. Bolingbrook had an inordinate amount of students stay the holidays and, by tradition, the graduating class hosted a New Year's Eve party for those students and the staff. I had told Dad about Havenstone and my infinitesimal chances of that kind of job. That was it. He patted me on the shoulder. There was no pressure to come back to Burnham after graduation if I didn't have a job lined up. It was my home if I needed it. So much was unspoken between us. I could tell he was proud; college; good grades; popular; happy. I shouldn't have taken for granted we'd get a chance to talk later. Back to the joy at hand. "So, what's it like working with your Dad?" I dropped into our causal conversation. I was in the bedroom, door open; really? Why do they put doors on those things? The 'Daddy' question could be taken two ways and I trusted Cameron to take it the worse way; and to be pissed. "My Father didn't get me the job here!" Cameron stormed in and insisted with a nice spirited mare stomp of the foot as emphasis. I 'just happened' to be naked, half turned away and a nice, highly suggestive pair of men's underwear in my hands. "What do you mean?" I was clearly confused. I turned a bit more toward her. Now she could almost see everything. "You; you have scars all over your body," she moaned. "I am a warrior, Cameron. This is the kind of man I am," I gave her a fierce, dominating gaze. "I fight for what I want and I brutally defend that which is mine. Who did you think I was?" Had Cameron been a fighter, that would have been the point she left the room. She was all up-front, bravado and a superior façade over an insecure, parentally driven trophy for their mantel place. My anger faded. It wasn't her fault I couldn't read her signs four years ago. I was still going to fuck her to the afterlife and back, but this time I'd be doing it as an informative journey. "I don't know anymore," Cameron tried to rally some sort of coherent rampart. "Come here," I beckoned her with one hand (the one without the underwear). Cameron shook her head. "Cameron, please believe me, there are things my staff would let me get away with; rape is not one of them. I won't touch you anywhere unless you give me permission." If you are a girl in the room at this point, you are toast. I just made it safe to touch my naked body. Sure, you have clothes on; for now, but not for long. Why? Women desire sex about as much as men do. Unless you are a vapid fashion model with substance abuse issues, men with non-disfiguring scars are an aphrodisiac. Add to that a hard-forged physique and men, sex is there for the taking. "I; uh;” she kept taking baby-steps forward. "I; Pam; Pamela is it?" "Yo," Pamela answered in a bored manner, knife in hand, then, "Whoa now!" she pointed her knife at my equipment. "Sheath that, young man. Put it under wraps right now." "I'm grown man, Pamela," I griped. I also put on my underwear. "Pluck the freaking pebble out of my hand, bitch, and then I'll call you an adult," Pamela sneered. Looking to Cameron, "Anything else Miss?" "No, thank you; no, wait. What do you do for Mr. Nyilas?" Cameron asked. "I'm his psychic medium," was Pamela's sage reply. That supernatural bogusness made Cameron happy. It shouldn't have. "Yeah, I kill his enemies then interrogate their souls," Pamela added with a nod. "It is highly rewarding work." Cameron's mouth gaped. "How about I shut the door and give you two kids some privacy." "What does she really do?" Cameron whispered to me. Part of me wanted to say 'she told you'. "She's my masseuse," I lied. I started putting my pants on (forgetting my socks) then fell/sat on the bed. Cameron came to my bedside. I rolled on my back and highly exaggerated the effort it took to pull them up. Cameron began giggling. "Hey, these are my 'skinny' slacks. I wouldn't laugh at you if our positions were switched." "Really?" she teased me. I laughed and she laughed along. "Cameron, think about it. I'm shirtless and definitely bra-less. I'm pretty sure I'd be too distracted by a multitude of your other assets to snicker," I countered. Cameron blushed and smiled. Ah, the visual image in Cameron's head was her, with jeans, racy panties and nothing else on while I hovered over her, relishing her attempts to conceal her charms. I shuffled back on the bed and resumed pulling my slacks up. Cameron followed, right into the danger zone. "Wait;” she put a hand on my abdomen. "What caused that scar?" So I told her. Okay, I gave her an abridged version of the truth. Fine, I lied like a big dog. I had the amazing habit of stumbling across women in need of saving. I bled for their virtue and honor, racked with intense pain before a violent victory was seized by my masculine hands. I was sure that Pamela and Rachel were hiding just outside the door, retching into waste baskets over the layers upon layers of my tripe. Around wound twelve, I was sure if I had asked Cameron to wear little lamb ears and a bell around her neck, she would have; had one been handy. To be fair, I wasn't fighting off legions of Green Beret. I was doing one better. I was using thinly-veiled caricatures of her High School enemies and nemeses. I was revealing their wickedness and pummeling them for their evil ways. There is a precious look a woman has when she miraculously discovers she is going to have the intercourse she's wanted yet somehow not recognized that need for until that moment. Cameron had that look, straddling me, skirt hiked up to her waist and vulva riding my cock (two layers intervening). We were out of wounds. "The rest are covered up," I explained in a predatory voice. Yes, Cameron was going to have sex and she had no control of events whatsoever and I hadn't even laid a hand on her yet. "Where?" she was suddenly baffled. "Pants," I kept it short and to the point. Cameron looked over her shoulder She reluctantly started to dismount so she could get to them so I made my move. I grabbed her hips in mid-dismount and rotated her around to reverse-cowgirl. Cameron began tugging off my pants with my legs raised high. My stomach crunches kicked in and I leveraged my torso up as well. I deftly moved her skirt up and went straight to the ass massage. Cameron's head shot around, eyes fearful. I had broken my word to not touch her without permission. Yes, I had lied to a girl; Now, I kissed her right on the lips, expertly delivered a delving French kiss and moved one hand to her right breast for an aggressive fondle. Cameron was really getting into it. Her nipples were highly sensitive. Her ass was humping like an over-eager sorority girl pole-dancing on Amateur Night. On cue, Cameron broke free and flew off the bed. "What; you; I thought we were going out?" she whined. She was horny as hell and didn't want to be held accountable at it. "Why are you running away?" I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind; that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know. Remember guys, it cuts both ways. Don't think so? You've had a girlfriend three whole months to the point she's staying over a night or two a week. One night, after your (hopefully) second round, you both discover it is that time of the month. 'Babe (or whatever pet name she has saddled you with), can you run to the store and get me some tampons and pads?' That, by the way, was not a question. She, for hygiene reasons, can't put her clothes on and go out herself. So, you go out to the Quick-Mart at 2 a.m. praying to God that none of your buddies are on a late night beer run and see you with your; stuff. You are not doing this for sex. She's not feeling 100% at the moment. Why are you? Guilt. She was at your place, making your Baloney Pony happy and this happened. You could send her out to the store. Not only is she not the only woman out there, many women understand guys getting freaked out about menstrual products. No, you feel guilty and risk the ridicule of your peers because it is your fault and you are not a dick-wad. And why did she ask you to do something that has nothing to do with you? Women are equally aware that guilt works, Baby. Back to our tale; "I'm not running away," sounded empty coming out of her mouth. "You said; touching." "I think you gave that option up when you crawled on top of me," I leered. "I clearly want to be with you, Cameron. You have given every indication you want to be with me, so I ask you again, why are you suddenly running away?" I kept after her. "I don't want to have sex; right now," again, she sounded weak. "Whatever happens, I go back to New York in two days," I met her shaky gaze. "You can set a time table if you like. The actuality of my life is relentless. I have things to get back to. If you are going to go, then go. I'll head out alone tonight, get a few drinks, come back early and grab some shut-eye," I shrugged. I went searching for my pants. See, she wasn't some random fuck. I wasn't leaving to replace her; making her a failure. I was hemming her in. I had the timeline. I had made my desires clear. There was no negotiation so while she appeared to have choices, she didn't and she knew it. For a girl who had spent so much effort working hard to not disappoint the main masculine figure in her life there was only one thing to do. "I don't want you to think I ever do anything like this," she propped up her morals while stutter-stepping back to the bed. "I feel I have a connection with you." Ah; the 'I have a connection with you' excuse. It would have been so appropriate if she actually remembered me. I pulled her onto the bed, went through the obligatory trying to push me off then we were back to the kissing and humping. Cameron turned out to be a 'use me' girl. That does Not mean abuse, it means she gets off being a responder to her partner's sexual directions. Caress her cheek, jaw and throat and she'd cup my chin, or massage my chest. Cameron was smart and a quick-learner. Her problem was a lack of a sense of adventure and an aversion to taking the lead. With the phantom applause of a hundred other male 'losers' who went to Fractional North High School, I ‘did' the queen who had been beyond us all only four years ago. The erotic twist to all that was with every sense of triumph and pleasure, Cameron mimicked me. Certainly we were both having a memorable time. I had to touch, lick, knead, and fondle every inch of Cameron's body. We both explored our nipple fetish, sixty-nined and engaged in some anal play; no penetration. I completed my first sojourn with the removal of the condom and the blowjob that had been the fantasy of countless hours in my home's upstairs bathroom. Cameron didn't just swallow; she savored and looked like she wanted more. Normally I cuddle beside my partner post-coitus. With Cameron, I lay on top of her at eye level. I put enough weight on her to let her feel pinned without real discomfort. "I have a confession," I gave her a sweaty-faced grin. "What?" she asked then gave me a peck on the lips. "We went to school together; same grade and everything," I enlightened her. "We even talked once." Cameron didn't know what to make of that. "I'll put that in perspective though. Do you believe that if you do something you do your best? Do you believe in craftsmanship?" "Cáel, you are scaring me," Cameron frowned. "Fifteen seconds and you can go," I conveyed with as much calm as I could. "Answer my question." "Okay; yes, I believe in doing your best. I believe in craftsmanship," Cameron played along. "Your words; 'never in a million years'." I related and waited. First there was the uncertainty and fear of the odd course our relationship had taken. It took a few seconds because so few pieces of the puzzle fit. "Cáel Nyilas; it was you; start of senior year; I had been," she muttered. Then came the real fear. "You must hate me." "I thought about it," I said, "but that isn't really me. See, you helped create me. Truth be told, you were only the catalyst. I did all the work." "A great many women helped. They were never a replacement for you. I was taught better than that by my first lover," I continued. "Still, I would be totally different if you hadn't casually annihilated my self-worth that September day." Pause. "Do you like the results?" "You really don't hate me;” Cameron was coming around. "It was high school. We all screw up in high school. According to a few studies, if you don't make a mess of high school, you are destined for failure," I related some real information. "You are getting hard again," Cameron gasped back to being okay with things between us. "Perhaps I should have warned you," I grinned wickedly. "I'm a sex addict." "Hey, Sex Addict!" Pamela shouted into the room. "There are some people out here to see you." "Good people, or bad people?" I shouted back. "Worse," Pamela replied. "The kind of people that want something from you." That was vaguely unpromising. "Cameron, take a shower and we'll talk about dinner when you get out. I think I need to take care of this," I sighed. Off went Cameron to the shower and on went my robe. In the main room, with a variety of levels of sexual tension, were sixteen women I didn't know. The Hotel Burnham has very nice suites, but they are not ballrooms. The room was pretty crowded, with not enough chairs and wall space getting sparse. They were all Havenstone women and I was willing to bet the average age was thirty-five; not my normal crowd. At least I knew why they were all there. Pamela suspected. Rachel and her team were clueless. "Hi, I am known as Cáel Nyilas," I greeted them. "A short history lesson and things will make a great deal more sense, so please be patient." The crowd was not pleased. I was a male and to a woman, the ladies had repudiated the world of men. They were all 'Runners'. It was the presence of Rachel's group that was keeping them civil at this point. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, as the Second Betrayal was ending, there was a small group of males who had proven themselves to the Amazon Host, taken into houses and their names were written on the Amazon Rolls," I started off. "Two of those males and three male children of one of the houses survived the massacre the female Amazons inflicted on their kin." That bought me a moment. Slaughtering your own babies, even male babies, wasn't something they would shrug off. "Well, if you know your Amazon politics, you know that the children of an Amazon who dies while in service of the Host becomes a member of the Host; so on and so on." The implications were sinking in as was the nervousness. "One of those men was a young warrior named Vranus of House Ishara. I am the sole surviving heir of Vranus. We are also here for the burial of my Father, who was murdered Sunday night. The next bit of Amazon politics. House Ishara was an extinct First House," I continued. "Oh shit," was uttered from half-dozen lips as they moved to the next, obvious step. "The succession to the Head of House for any House is elevation by your peers, accepted ritual combat and; the oldest surviving member of the House," I added. "By the Seven Martial Goddess; don't you have to be female? I mean; We are Amazons!" one of the 'Runners' yelled in disbelief. "Do you plan to add more males to your House?" one of the senior members growled. "Two things; it should not bother you one way, or another, and it is not MY House. It is the House of my Ancestor, Ishara. If this is going to be a problem, you are in the wrong room," I met her hostile glare ember for ember. That one headed for the door. "Wait," a fellow 'Runner' grabbed her arm. "You can't be going along with this Marsha?" the departing Amazon snapped. "I don't know this one, but I trust Buffy," Marsha countered. "Ok ladies, so that we are clear," Pamela sighed. "The next one of you to insult the Head of House Ishara, I am going to drag into the other room, kill you and cut you up into giblets for room service to take away," Pamela sounded positively disinterested. "I am not afraid of you," the departing one glared. "That would be a serious mistake," Rachel interjected quietly. Deep breath from me. "Listen, this is a highly improbable incident. I am not asking anyone to embrace the society you have rejected. In fact, I admire you for the strength it took to transition. I also ask you to accept the fact that I DO NOT want to be here, doing this, with any of you," I made one last effort. "Quite frankly, you man-haters scare me; being a man and all. You seem to think I have a choice in any of this. I don't. I am the heir of Vranus. I am the last known living descendant of the Amazon who chose the name Ishara for the sake of her house's unity," I stated. "I don't want to do this, but I'm not the kind of human being who runs away from my responsibilities." "Okay; Cáel of Ishara, why are we here?" Marsha said as she kept the other one from leaving. "Sixty years ago, the Amazon Houses swore an oath to the women who joined their cause. They lied to you. They have not kept up their side of the bargain. They have refused virtually all of you entry into the status as true, full-blooded Amazons," I explained. "And now you are going to rectify that; injustice?" the senior one kept mocking me. "Fine; you and me; one last chance," I sighed. "Look around you. Who do you see? The prettiest, the most pliable, the most power-hungry? If you can point out one woman in this room that doesn't deserve to be a Full-Blooded Amazon, leave now." "You didn't choose any of us," she responded. "Exactly!" I shouted. "I didn't choose any of you to be in House Ishara. Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara did. Why? Because I don't know any of you, or your sacrifices and worth to Havenstone. I gave that duty to the two; and only two; member of House Ishara who would know who was the most worthy to be in a First House." "We are here to be inducted," one of the silent Amazons voiced with a dream-like quality. "Yes. Barring being rejected by Ishara, you will be inducted at my Father's graveside tomorrow morning," I stated clearly. "How many?" Senior questioned. "This time; twenty," I answered. "I have no agenda and no set number of 'Runners' to be inducted into House Ishara. It doesn't work

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

"Bereft" by Jake Weber. Adapted from the poem "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe. 2021.Intro read by Margo Seibert. Poe is an audiochuck production.Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter:  @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllc

Seanbaby and Lydia Bugg welcome special guest, Shawn DePasquale to the DOGGZZONE to discuss Dollman 2! Bereft of substance AND incredibly dense? Yes! Demonic toys? YES! Tim Thomerson?? THEY DON'T MAKE ENOUGH DRY PANTIES TO KEEP PACE! Dollman 2 has everything you never wanted jam packed into four infinite scenes. Running time 61 minutes.

In this week's show Pete and Miles review the Friday night harem scarum defeat to Gloucester with help from many listener contributions and the Deputy Manager of the Bristol Bear Factory, Lewis.It was one of those games where every single statistic was in our favour apart from the one that matters, that is, the final score and perhaps on another day we would have strolled to victory. But we didn't.That said, the Cherry and Whites played with purpose and passion and undoubtedly forced us into frustrating errors that gifted them a lot of points. We give our views as well as comment on the general atmosphere of this season's first home game back at the Gate. Fortress or Forgettable?The good news is that we are currently sitting third in the table but have to visit them down the road next Saturday. Are there grounds for optimism? You bet there are.We also reveal further commercial link ups with the Apero Bar, comment on Gengey's contract extension and finish with the return of a fan favorite - what gets my goat?There are at least four!All this and more.Get in touch via the socials or email us at bearsbeyondthegate@gmail.comLet us know what you think!

Bereft of guests, Jared and JM engage in an exercise of meta-cognition, making a list of their favorite Forkcast list episodes in no particular order.

Such are the means of modern communication rarely a day goes past without us hearing some news of events that are causing anxiety – even distress – among believers in some part of the world.  We reflected on this as we continued reading Jeremiah's brief book of Lamentations.   It was obviously written after the tragedy of Jerusalem's fall and the destruction of the Temple.  But today's chapter 3 – is most remarkable!  It contains some great lessons for us – lessons of the perceptions that can come into our minds from God if we truly seek him as Jeremiah did.  First, he says, God “has enveloped me with bitterness and tribulation” [v.5] Maybe we can use that word ‘envelope' in a modern sense and say, can we put this bitterness into an envelope and put it out with the rubbish or into the fire!  But how? Jeremiah also says, “my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is.” [v.17] But then, wonderfully, from v.21, his mind climbs out of his depression – and what a wonderful example this is for all who, at some stage in their lives, feel overwhelmed by events.  He writes, “But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  ‘The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.'” [v.25,26] If you are a young person, note v.27, “It is good for a man (or woman) that they bear the yoke in their youth.”  A yoke? That is, be in harness in the service of the Lord and learn that God watches over their lives and knows and can and will direct the path of those who truly seek him. David says in Psalm 142, “When my spirit faints within me, you know my way.”  [v.3] Finally, although there are other verses in this remarkable chapter we would have liked to quote, note v.40,41.  “Let us test and examine our ways, and return to the LORD! Let us lift up our hearts and hands to God …”  May we follow Jeremiah's example, for few have experienced traumas like he did.  But, after being totally “bereft of peace” he still knew that “the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases.”

The new music show features a heap of metal from the cutting edge under the broader genres of heavy metal, prog metal, psychedelic black metal, goth metal, power metal, deathcore, death metal, early thrash, modern thrash, thrash, melodic death metal, punk, prog power metal, prog style Nocturnus, symphonic power metal, symphonic Evanescence, metalcore, folk metal, death noise, funeral doom, and modern and folk metal featuring the following artists and their cuts:  1. **HammerFall** - "Avenge the Fallen" from *Avenge the Fallen* 2. **Opeth** - "§1" from *The Last Will & Testament* 3. **Oranssi Pazuzu** - "Valotus" from *Muuntautuja* 4. **Marilyn Manson** - "Raise the Red Flag" 5. **Lordi** - "Made of Metal" 6. **Cabal** - "Magno Interitus (Misstiq Rework)" from *Reworks* 7. **God Dethroned** - "The Judas Paradox" from *The Judas Paradox* 8. **Prisoner** - "Skies are Blackened" from the EP *House of Cards* 9. **Soulride** - "Paralyzed" from *Murder Act* 10. **Thrasherwolf** - "G.B.H" from *Inside the Sickened Mind* 11. **Dislocator** - "Adapt to Survive" 12. **Erudica** - "Echoes of Desolation" 13. **S.H.I.** - "Green Horse" from *死* 14. **Nails** - "Lacking the Ability to Process Empathy" from *Every Bridge Burning* 15. **Crypt Crawler** - "Higher Society" from *The Immortal Realm* 16. **Coffin Rot** - "Perverted Exhumation" from *Dreams of the Disturbed* 17. **Herakleion** - "The Tomb" from *Necroverse EP* 18. **Blind Guardian** - "The Bard's Song - In the Forest (Revisited)" from *Somewhere Far Beyond Revisited* 19. **InnerWish** - "Cult of the Blind" 20. **Days of Jupiter** - "Original Sin" 21. **Athena XIX** - "Frames of Humanity" from *Everflow Part 1: Frames of Humanity* 22. **Dungeon Crawl** - "Red Shadows" from *Maze Controller* 23. **Eleine** - "Through the Mist" from *We Shall Remain* 24. **All for Metal** - "Path of the Brave" from *Gods of Metal (Year of the Dragon)* 25. **Crimson Veil** - "Illuminate" 26. **HammerFall** - "The End Justifies" from *Avenge the Fallen* 27. **Oceans** - "Parasite" from *Happy* 28. **Marilyn Manson** - "As Sick as the Secrets Within" from *As Sick as the Secrets Within* 29. **Arka'n Asrafokor** - "Final Tournament" from *Dzikkuh* 30. **Miasma of Occvlt Limbs** - "(Portal) Con las Vísceras Expuestas la Iluminación Cadavérica me Sacraliza" from *Occulta Caerimonia Putridum* 31. **Föhn** - "Bereft" from *Condescending* 32. **Equilibrium** - "Gnosis" 33. **Grand Magus** - "Skybound" from *Sunraven* 34. **HammerFall** - "Burn It Down" from *Avenge the Fallen*

Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin was a titan of the airship world - of aviation in general, in fact. The inventor of the rigid airship, he founded a company which manufacturers airships to this day and which was responsible for the creation of some of the most iconic aircraft of all time. But this was not supposed to be his legacy. An army officer and diplomat, he faithfully served the Kingdom of Wurttemberg and the German Empire that followed, through a time of political and social upheaval, until his beloved military career was suddenly and brutally taken away from him.  Bereft, humiliated and cast adrift, the Count turned his energy to a subject that had interested him for years; the problem of human flight. Moving mountains to get his first airship built, he ensured that his name would be synonymous with lighter-than-air flight forever. This is the story of Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin and his dream of the rigid airship.

Absorb • Funeral Leech • Blind Monarch • Void Witch • Mekigah • Rot Coven • Föhn Music On This Mixtape: Absorb: "Smog" taken from the EP "Smog" Funeral Leech: "Chronofixion" taken from the album "The Illusion Of Time" Blind Monarch: "The Dead Replenish The Earth" taken from the album "The Dead Replenish The Earth" Void Witch: "Supernova of Brain and Bone" taken from the album "Horripilating Presence" Mekigah: "Away Drifting From" taken from the album "To Hold Onto a Heartless Heart" Rot Coven: "Blood Pours Out of the Sun" taken from the album "Nightmares Devour The Waking World" Föhn: "Bereft" taken from the album "Condescending" Thanks for listening! Interviews, reviews, and more at www.dreamsofconsciousness.com

It has been quite the hiatus but yours truly has returned. Travanti is here. It was needed. He was training in the hyperbolic time chamber to upgrade his NBA 2K Slider Attributes. Returning a far greater version of himself although still under extensive renovation... Bereft of fucks to give but with all of the love in the world in his heart. Simultaneously. Shadow fully intact & incorporated. He has arrived... speaking in 3rd Person... Though he has been here the entire time- with an incredulous squint reminiscent of the Fry from Futurama meme because hooooooly sheesh a lot is happening. In this episode I hop into some of my notes and the wellspring of my mind to expound on some things such as a sanctioned 1V1 bout between the Praying Mantis & the Mantis Shrimp. I would like for Dana to book this- and scrap Power Slap League. We do not need the CTE Olympics. I also might've mentioned how dumb looking for a "serious" relationship is when people are looking for "fun" when they're single. Keep that same energy, bitch. Don't bring that serious shit over here- pack a sense of humor & we will make a meal out of it.I also might've also mentioned that Cows could very well be the MVPs of the animal kingdom. From Cheeseburgers (on Potato Bun) to plush leather Cadillac Seats- they seem to be able to do it all. They have a major achilles heel, however, but you'd have to listen to the pod to discover what I think that it is... Much love, y'all. New episode coming soon!! Also- I've been working on a video component to Audio Dope this entire time I had been away from you but check out my little YouTube as we build that community together - https://www.youtube.com/@AudioDopePodcastMuch love,Travanti

You wait years and years for something to finally be over, and once that day comes, you're left not with a sense of joy, but with a deep-set anxiety about what comes after. Bereft. Unable to enjoy the simple joy of being free, because you've been around the block a bit, and you know how these things go. Sigh. But enough about finishing Morrowind. Recently the UK had an election and kicked out some of the worst people to ever be in charge of anything, replacing them with a default option that nobody actually likes that much. Which is rather like when you finish a video game. Except it isn't. It's nothing like that. It's not remotely like that at all. Forgive the rubbish conceit, and please enjoy The Best Game You Were Glad To See The Back Of, a podcast episode which you can watch or listen to on this very web page and/or app! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

#FTOTFS #WeAreTheA #Hustlin4More New Pod! Jen, Cat & Jack are back from international call ups. Thanks for putting up with our technical differences at the moment! Euro Spoilers ATL says bye felicia to GG New interim manager, same story on the pitch Why does PRO hate us The children are our future Marry/Death/Kill for the second half of the season   Thanks as always to www.MasonMillChiro.com Join the ATL UTD Fan TV discord discord.gg/nhVYVShD

Hello there, my friends, and welcome to Horror Hill. I'm your host, Erik Peabody, and tonight, I'm bringing you two stories to throw a chill into your evening. Unfortunately, these stories are so unrelated that I can't come up with a clever little connection between them, like I usually do. So, alas, I sit here. Bereft. A failure. Just sell my bones to the glue factory, I suppose. Regardless, these are two good ones, so I'll ask that you forgive my shortcomings for the time being. To watch the podcast on YouTube: http://bit.ly/ChillingEntertainmentYT Don't forget to subscribe to the podcast for free wherever you're listening or by using this link: https://bit.ly/HorrorHillPodcast If you like the show, telling a friend about it would be amazing! You can text, email, Tweet, or send this link to a friend: https://bit.ly/HorrorHillPodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Michael Whiting and Nathan Schmook bring you all the latest footy news on AFL Daily. Ross Lyon has vented his frustration about the AFL being more open and transparent about free kick decisions and non-decisions in 2024. We unpack his words.  The underrated Brisbane lads that are hoping to be the spark to turn this season around. The incredible clearance numbers that has Fremantle tracking into never before seen areas and how do the Adelaide Crows find their confidence in a hurry?  Subscribe to AFL Daily and never miss an episode. Rate and review wherever you listen to podcasts.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Two guys, two girls, a camping picnic on the beach. By Cybotic. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. This was her Friday. Rosalie was looking forward to two days off. There was a movie on Netflix she'd been planning to see. Her bathroom needed some painting. She had been thinking of getting a cat.  As she sat, sipping coffee in the break room, eating her jalapeno tuna fish sandwich, her phone rang. Irritated, she checked the number. Her friends all knew better than to call her during work hours. But this was Celia, her next-door neighbor. They weren't especially close, but they did enjoy each other's company. They had started a garden on the apartment building's rooftop. And Celia had a key to Rosalie's apartment in case of emergencies. “What's up?” Rosalie asked. “I got invited on a camping picnic. Two guys from my hometown visiting for the weekend. But I don't feel comfortable being the only girl. Would you be interested in joining us?”Rosalie thought about it. A picnic sounded fun. “Where? And what's a camping picnic?” “Carmichael Beach. A camping picnic means no tents, no sleeping bags, no fishing, no living off the land. We take some blankets, some already prepared food. We eat. We get drunk. We fall asleep on the beach. You in?” “I'm at work. If you can wait until I get off, then I'll go.” “Fabulous,” Celia said. “And you don't have to hurry. We're still getting ready.” “Grab anything you need from my apartment. I've got some old blankets and some Spam and tuna and rum.” “Perfect. See you in few hours.” Rosalie went through the rest of her shift in a slight haze, already thinking about the trip to the lake. She hadn't been on a picnic in ages. One of the customers threw a little fit right before closing time because he wasn't allowed to enter the store without a mask. Instead of arguing, they just locked the door early and shut down. Rosalie got home fifteen minutes earlier than usual. She changed out of her work clothes, packed a backpack with some necessities, and jumped in Celia's car. And they were on the road ten seconds later. “So, who are these guys?” Rosalie asked. “Old boyfriends?” “No. Friends of my brothers. When I was a teenager, I had giant crushes on both of them. But I was just the pesky little sister of Frank. But now I'm living in the big city and once or twice a year, these guys come out for some fun and girls and maybe a little business.” “So, this is a summer holiday trip?” “Exactly,” Celia said. “And you're not hooking up with either one?” “No… but…” “Yes?” Rosalie asked. “Is there one you're interested in?” “I'm still interested in both of them. Either one of those boys can have me with a snap of his finger. I've been too shy to encourage them. But if, by some miracle, you see me trying to get close to one of them, I would appreciate it if you would distract the other.” “Distract how?” Celia laughed. “That's up to you. And it goes both ways. If one of them attracts you, go for it. I won't be jealous. They've had lots of girls. Lots and lots of girls. Even close friends of mine. And neither will be sticking around afterward. They'll go back home and I'll stay here. No point in being jealous. But if you're not interested like that, then just talk about music or movies or something.” “Maybe I should know their names first.” “Maybe so,” she said. “Jason and Charles. Jason is the one with the military buzzcut. Charles shaves his head.” Celia told a few stories about the two men as they drove out of the city. And Rosalie talked about her own past boyfriends. And as they got to know each other finally, after being neighbors for over a year, Rosalie felt herself relax from the tension of the day, all her work anxieties draining away. By the time they arrived at the lake, Rosalie was already feeling as rested and refreshed as though she'd already had her weekend. This had been a marvelous idea. The boys pulled up in a pickup right behind them and she made herself useful, helping unload. As Jason and Celia built a fire, Rosalie stared out at the lake wistfully. She'd forgotten to bring a swimsuit, but she didn't want to soak her clothes by going in fully dressed. It was an isolated location, but she didn't know any of these people well enough to go skinny-dipping in front of them. If nothing else, she'd at least do some wading. Then she turned around, noticed the blanket Celia was spreading out over the ground. Rosalie realized that Destiny had just decided what she'd be doing on this trip. “Why did you bring that blanket?” she asked Celia. “Did I make a mistake? You told me to get anything we might need from your apartment. This seemed like a nice, sturdy blanket, but old enough to not worry about if it got a little stained.” That was true enough, Rosalie thought. It had been stained plenty. “That is my family's Summer blanket. It has a tradition.” “I can put it back in the truck,” Celia offered. “I didn't realize it was special.” “No. It's been laid out. It's too late. What will be will be.” “You're talking funny.” Rosalie nodded. “That blanket has a tradition.” “You said that.” “It was made as a gift for my grandmother when she got married. It was laid on her bed for the first time on her wedding night. My uncle was conceived that night. All my uncles and aunts, and my own mom, of course, were conceived on or under that blanket. Always in the summer. And like her mother, my mom lost her own virginity on that blanket. As did I. As did my brother. That blanket has claimed a lot of virginity and has caused a lot of babies to be born. I don't think we'll be able to resist its power.” “I didn't realize you were superstitious,” Celia said. “I'm not. And it sounds ridiculous, I know. But my family has always been wary of that blanket. Spring, Fall, and Winter, it's just a bedcover. But in the Summer, if you bring out that blanket, things happen. When I was eighteen and still in high school, my mom asked me to stay home one day so I could let in the plumber when he arrived. She hadn't realized it was the first day of Summer. The blanket was draped over the back of the couch. When the plumber got there, I didn't even speak to him. I opened the door, led him to the couch, and took my clothes off. I gave my virginity to a total stranger who smelled like rusted pipes.” “You weren't drinking or anything?” Celia asked skeptically. “I never drank at eighteen. It's the blanket. I told my mom what happened with the plumber, and she told me about the cable guy and reminded me of the time when she'd sent me to my room when the pizza arrived. That blanket seduces in the summers. It's summer now. Things are going to happen.” “Only if we want them to,” Calia promised. “Oh, we'll want it. We'll want it like we've never wanted anything in our lives. We'll want it more than we'll want our next breath.” Celia clearly didn't believe her, but Rosalie was resigned to this fate and didn't bother trying to convince her. She'd planted the seeds. Belief would come later. She picked up her backpack and headed for the fateful blanket, wondering which of these guys was going to have her this day. The boys gave her a friendly greeting and offered her a beer. She almost declined, for the sake of the baby. She had to remind herself that she wasn't pregnant yet. Probably by midnight. But not yet. She took the bottle they gave her and swigged down a third of its contents. Even knowing what the evening had in store for her, Rosalie was still feeling relaxed and optimistic. And the cool, clear water of the lake was even more inviting than it had been before. She might get some swim time in after all, considering what Destiny had in store for her, even if Destiny needed a little help. They settled down to just talk and watch the fire and the water. Celia and her friends talked of people, places, and events that Rosalie didn't know. Rather than feeling bored or offended, a sense of anticipation was building inside her. The Summer Day was hot, but Rosalie's arms were covered with goose bumps as excitement flowed through her veins. She lay back on the Summer blanket and wondered about the wisdom of telling Celia about the legend. The rational mind would reject such a concept. But she remembered the weight of that plumber, crushing her into the sofa, claiming her innocence without even knowing her name. It was a true story, even if she'd fudged some of the details. The heat in her blood got to be too much. She had to act. She needed to bring that simmer up to a boil or find a way to cool it down. Looking to the lake again, she thought, or maybe do both at once. “I'm going for a swim,” Rosalie announced. It no longer mattered that she didn't have a swimsuit. She took off her t-shirt and threw it on the blanket, then wriggled out of her jean shorts. She was still wearing her underwear, but she didn't want to get it wet, and sooner or later, at least one of these guys was going to see everything she had. It was guaranteed. They were both cute, Jason with a soldier's ruggedness and Charles looking like a shy physicist who still might win two out of three arm wrestling matches at the tavern. Rosalie didn't know enough about them to make a choice, so she'd let them choose. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, tossing it on her growing pile of clothes. Sliding her panties down her legs, she took a quick peek at the three shocked faces watching her strip. Rosalie's face was red, but she had no regrets. She ran to the water and kept going until she was waist-deep in the lake. Only then did she turn around and look at her companions. The boys had turned to grin at each other. Celia was looking out at her like she was crazy. But none of them seemed particularly offended or angry. That possibility had occurred to her as she was running, but it had been too late to undo the striptease and even if they had been upset, it would not have been enough of a reason to put her clothes back on. “Come on in!” Rosalie yelled. “The water feels great!” Jason and Charles jumped up and started shucking off their clothes. Celia hesitated, but as she saw her two naked friends moving toward another female, she knew she could not sit this out. Celia was willing to let Rosalie have one of the men, but not both. And Celia wanted first choice. It took her less than a minute to get out of her own clothes and by the time Jason and Charles reached Rosalie in the water, Celia had caught up. It was only awkward for a moment, standing in the waist-deep water, all four of them pretending not to notice the girls' bare tits. But Rosalie felt a sense of duty. She had started this. It was her task to break the ice. “If you want to touch my boobs, it's okay. You have my permission,” she said to Celia. They all laughed, as Rosalie had intended. “What about us?” Charlie asked. “Of course. Celia has my permission to touch both of you as well. If she wants to.” Under the surface of the water, Rosalie reached out and grabbed both men's cocks. “Fine specimens, girlfriend. Would you like to handle the merchandise?” “I've never seen you like this,” Celia marveled. “It's the blanket. I told you this would happen.” “What about the blanket?” Charlie asked. “Never mind. Don't you want to put your hands on me?” “Of course,” he said, reaching for her chest. She slapped his hand away. “Ask Celia first. Show her what you want to do to me, then ask permission. If you impress her, she might say yes.” Charlie put his hand on Celia's tit and squeezed it gently. “Can I touch your friend? Like this?” he asked. Celia nodded and he put his other hand on Rosalie's chest, fondling both women at once. Rosalie looked at Jason. “Now you.” Understanding, Jason grabbed hold of Celia's free breast, and at her nod, claimed Rosalie's as well. She'd never felt anything like this, two men groping her at once, neither of them known to her. And she had two cocks in her hands. It was taboo and exciting. She was thrilled to be trying this, especially under the open sky. Rosalie and Celia stroked the boys under the water while the boys fondled them above the water. “This was a good idea,” Rosalie said. “If this is what picnics are like, I've been missing out.” “I've never been on a picnic like this,” Jason admitted. “What do you usually do?” “Well, if there's a beach, and girls who are willing, we might have a chicken fight.” “What's that?” It was Charlie who answered. “The girls get on the guys' shoulders and then try to knock each other off.” “Long way to fall. Good way to get hurt,” Rosalie mused. Celia laughed. “No, they do it in the water. It's like double-decker dunking.” “I'm game,” Rosalie volunteered. “No! We're naked! Our…you know…will be right on their necks.” “You could ride backward,” Jason suggested. Rosalie blushed as hard as Celia, but she said again, “I'm game.” She could just imagine pressing her crotch to a guy's face as she struggled to throw Celia into the water. “I don't think so,” Celia said. “Too bad,” Rosalie lamented. “You guys will just have to think of another way to kiss us down under.” Charlie grinned. “What about you? Are you willing to taste a little sausage?” “I'm afraid not. I never do that unless I get tricked into it.” Rosalie shook her head ruefully. Then she slyly grinned. “Unfortunately, I am notoriously easy to trick.” “How does a guy go about tricking you? Any advice would be appreciated,” Jason said. Rosalie screwed up her face into an expression of deep thinking. “Well, I'm a fiend for chocolate. If you told me that your dick tasted like chocolate, I'd be skeptical, but I would probably have to test the claim for myself.” Celia was feeling bolder with Rosalie's outrageous behavior making her own shyness disappear. “What if he told you his sperm tasted like chocolate?” she asked Rosalie, joining in the playful banter. “That would be very clever. I would almost certainly have to take a taste.” “What if I wanted to fuck you?” Charlie asked her. “That's up to Celia. Celia gets to choose who fucks who.” Both men looked at Celia, who blushed, but accepted the responsibility. And she'd gotten braver. “I want you guys to make a good impression on Rosalie. I think you should both fuck me first. Whoever does it best can then have her.” This was more than agreeable to the boys. They glanced at each other, then each of them picked up one of the girls and started carrying her to the beach. Rosalie happily found herself supported by a strong man's arms. Charlie carried her out of the lake and laid her gently on the blanket. Celia was plopped down next to her. The expression on her friend's face was nervous but excited. She pointed to Jason to go first. He came down on top of her. She spread her legs and lifted her knees to welcome him, as if the grin on her face didn't do that already. Jason lifted her ass from that blanket and sat down, seating her on his thighs and pulling Celia onto his lap. Rosalie had watched porn before, so what she was seeing was not new to her, but she'd never gotten a live show. With her cheek next to Celia's, she just looked down and watched as Jason's cock penetrated her friend. He went in slow and gentle and then stopped when he was seated balls deep. As he pulled back out, Rosalie saw the shining moisture on dick and could resist reaching down to touch it. She put the tips of two fingers on him, feeling him slide into the pussy. “Hey, Celia!” Charlie called out, also watching the fucking, “Is it okay if your buddy gives me a blowjob? Out in the water, she said it was up to you.” Celia gave her consent and Rosalie sat up and smiled at him. She looked down at his dick, which was rock hard and pointed at her. “Come closer,” she said. “Stand on the blanket.” She pointed at where she wanted him. He knelt down, straddling Celia's head. Rosalie was able to look her friend in the eye as she took Charlie into her mouth. She wanted Celia to watch her sucking this cock. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed important. And she should have an excellent view. Celia should be looking up at Charlie's cock and balls from just inches away. The smooth skin of his penis sliding through Rosalie's lips should be very up close. The hard, hot flesh on her tongue was exciting and wonderful but it was also a distraction. Rosalie was trying to keep her attention on Celia, flicking her eyes back and forth from Jason's cock in her pussy and then back to Celia's eyes. “Don't come,” Celia moaned. “Who are you talking to?” Jason asked. “I'm starting to get close.” “Both of you, stupidhead. I'm just the tester. Rosalie is the one you're auditioning for. If either of you come now, show's over. Besides, I'm not on the pill and you're not using a condom. I don't want that stuff inside me today.” “Then we'd better change off pretty soon,” he said. “I'm ready,” Charlie agreed. “I want to try some pussy.” Rosalie reluctantly released Charlie's cock from her mouth and lay down to be fucked by Jason. But Celia objected. “No. Not yet. I'm not done evaluating. When I decide who is the best fucker, that's the one who gets you. Just suck his cock while I try out Charlie.” That was acceptable. Rosalie got back on her knees and knelt at Celia's side. She leaned across her to taste Jason's Celia-flavored dick while Celia herself got plugged with a new man's cock. Rosalie grinned around Jason at the grunting sound Celia made. Mission accomplished, she thought. Celia had long wanted both these men. Now it was done. She might be less shy in the future, and even if she wasn't, these guys would surely come back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Rosalie was also enjoying the adventure. Rosalie had never tasted pussy before. But she had bathed Charlie's cock with her tongue, coating it with her spit, before he plunged it into Celia. And now Jason's dick was in her mouth, soaked in Celia's juices. It was almost like she was licking Celia's cunt. She savored the experience, “I've made a decision,” Celia panted as Charlie continued to ride her. “Jason is quite the excellent fucker, but Charlie's the one having me right now. I think my favorite is always going to be the one on top of me.” “A cock in the bush is better than the one in the friend?” Rosalie teased. “Exactly. So Jason can fuck you now if you want him to.” “Oh, I do! If he's ready.” “I have never been so ready,” Jason said, pulling out of her mouth and practically shoving her onto her back. Rosalie laughed as she fell backwards and Jason threw himself on top of her, but then gasped as his cock speared her deep. She was lying side by side next to Celia and reached out to clasp her hand in camaraderie. She felt like she and Celia were sisters in a harem or whores at a bachelor party. She didn't even know these boys and she'd sucked both their cocks and was now letting one of them fuck her. And Celia was getting fucked right beside her. Enjoying the visual, Rosalie went from watching Charlie's dick plunging into Celia, then back to Jason plunging into her own welcoming cunt. She could feel the thick, hot flesh filling her, opening her up and she could feel the squeeze of Celia's hand each time Charlie thrust into her. “Oh, God” Chalie said. “I'm about to come!” “No!” Celia said. “Not inside me. Get out! Get out!” Charlie pulled out, his cock throbbing and red, ready to burst. “Where?” he asked. “Tits? Face? Can I come in your mouth?” “Tits. Then I can wash it off in the lake.” “You can come in my mouth,” Rosalie offered. “Or if you're willing to wait until your buddy finishes, you can come in my pussy.” “Do that,” Celia said. “Come in her. I'd love to watch that.” “Does that mean I can come inside you?” Jason asked. “If you want to,” Rosalie agreed. “Are you on the pill?” “Not at all. You'll have to take your chances. You might end up a daddy.” “Oh, fuck!” he said. Rosalie smiled as she realized he'd already gone beyond the ability to choose. His cock was pulsing and there was a new warm wetness inside her. “That's it,” she said. “That's right. Fill me up. Give them to me. All your little babymakers. I need them.” “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jason grunted as poured into her. Rosalie closed her eyes and just savored the experience. She rarely came from sex alone and didn't really expect to. But there was something incredibly erotic about having a man's seed inside her. It was Rosalie's biggest turn-on. Nothing made her hotter. As Jason rested, still embedded deep, Rosalie snuck her hand down to her clit and started rubbing. His orgasm would provide the fuel for hers. As she stroked herself, Jason was yanked violently away. “My turn!” Charles insisted. Bereft of one man's cock, Rosalie smiled and welcomed the second. And she was aware of Celia getting to her hands and knees to crawl over and get a good view as Charles' cock sank deep inside her. Rosalie was acting like a major slut, she knew, and she was enjoying it, but she'd never had sex in front of other people before. Nobody had ever stared at her pussy as a cock entered her. Never before had a man come inside her. She'd dreamed about it, fantasized about it, but never let it happen. And she'd never had sex with two different men in the same day before. Not even in the same month. But with Charlie plunging in and out of her and Jason's seed still deep within her, Rosalie's mind dissolved into the pure bliss of the moment. She rubbed her clit furiously and listened to Charles' breathing. When he started to grunt and shake, she let herself go. The orgasm rode her even harder than Charlie was doing, owned her more completely. It was the feeling of ultimate female vulnerability. She was invaded, possessed by more than the man's cock. Jason had filled her with his very essence. And now Charlie had his dick in her and she was eagerly anticipating a similar gift. She literally had two men inside her, occupying her at once. And just as her climax started to fade, Charlie reached his own orgasm. The second dose of semen spurting into her triggered a fresh ecstasy. Rosalie pressed up against Charlie, her legs wide open, trying to take him as deep as possible and let his seed flow even deeper. And she quivered and trembled beneath him as the spasms claimed her body. She grunted and panted and howled as the power of her climax took her. Jason came up behind her, crouched down and dropped his cock on her face. She happily took him into her mouth, tasting her own pussy, and Celia's, as Jason's sperm, and Charlie's, swarmed toward her womb. And even as her orgasm faded, another began. Charlie rested in her cunt and Jason used her mouth, but Rosalie was barely aware of either. Her body was no longer her own. Her mind was almost extinguished. She belonged utterly to the men who fucked her and the orgasm that seized her. Out of mists and joy, Rosalie's mind slowly reassembled. She came back to full awareness as both cocks were removed from her. There was a bitter flavor in her mouth, evidence that Jason had found his pleasure in her body a second time. She sat up shakily, swallowed Jason's offering, and grinned at Celia. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said as the boys ran to the lake to wash off the sweat and cool down. Celia laughed. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the blanket,” she said. “That's a pretty powerful enchantment, or whatever.” “I bought that blanket at a yard sale,” Rosalie confessed. “But you needed the courage to act on your lust for those guys.” “You said you lost your virginity to a plumber because of that blanket.” “I lost my virginity to a plumber because I had decided it was time to be rid of my virginity. I didn't even own the blanket yet.” “You mean I fucked two guys all on my own?” “Yup,” Rosalie nodded. “We both did.” “Do you often do things like this? You let them both fuck you too. At least I thought I was under a spell.” “I've always wanted to do something like this. But today was a first. You gave me an excuse.” “I'm glad I was here to be of service. Shall we join the guys in the water? They might recover enough to have us both again.” Rosalie nodded. “If not now, then tonight for sure. This is the best Summer outing I've ever had.”  for Literotica

Two guys, two girls, a camping picnic on the beach. By Cybotic. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. This was her Friday. Rosalie was looking forward to two days off. There was a movie on Netflix she'd been planning to see. Her bathroom needed some painting. She had been thinking of getting a cat.  As she sat, sipping coffee in the break room, eating her jalapeno tuna fish sandwich, her phone rang. Irritated, she checked the number. Her friends all knew better than to call her during work hours. But this was Celia, her next-door neighbor. They weren't especially close, but they did enjoy each other's company. They had started a garden on the apartment building's rooftop. And Celia had a key to Rosalie's apartment in case of emergencies. “What's up?” Rosalie asked. “I got invited on a camping picnic. Two guys from my hometown visiting for the weekend. But I don't feel comfortable being the only girl. Would you be interested in joining us?”Rosalie thought about it. A picnic sounded fun. “Where? And what's a camping picnic?” “Carmichael Beach. A camping picnic means no tents, no sleeping bags, no fishing, no living off the land. We take some blankets, some already prepared food. We eat. We get drunk. We fall asleep on the beach. You in?” “I'm at work. If you can wait until I get off, then I'll go.” “Fabulous,” Celia said. “And you don't have to hurry. We're still getting ready.” “Grab anything you need from my apartment. I've got some old blankets and some Spam and tuna and rum.” “Perfect. See you in few hours.” Rosalie went through the rest of her shift in a slight haze, already thinking about the trip to the lake. She hadn't been on a picnic in ages. One of the customers threw a little fit right before closing time because he wasn't allowed to enter the store without a mask. Instead of arguing, they just locked the door early and shut down. Rosalie got home fifteen minutes earlier than usual. She changed out of her work clothes, packed a backpack with some necessities, and jumped in Celia's car. And they were on the road ten seconds later. “So, who are these guys?” Rosalie asked. “Old boyfriends?” “No. Friends of my brothers. When I was a teenager, I had giant crushes on both of them. But I was just the pesky little sister of Frank. But now I'm living in the big city and once or twice a year, these guys come out for some fun and girls and maybe a little business.” “So, this is a summer holiday trip?” “Exactly,” Celia said. “And you're not hooking up with either one?” “No… but…” “Yes?” Rosalie asked. “Is there one you're interested in?” “I'm still interested in both of them. Either one of those boys can have me with a snap of his finger. I've been too shy to encourage them. But if, by some miracle, you see me trying to get close to one of them, I would appreciate it if you would distract the other.” “Distract how?” Celia laughed. “That's up to you. And it goes both ways. If one of them attracts you, go for it. I won't be jealous. They've had lots of girls. Lots and lots of girls. Even close friends of mine. And neither will be sticking around afterward. They'll go back home and I'll stay here. No point in being jealous. But if you're not interested like that, then just talk about music or movies or something.” “Maybe I should know their names first.” “Maybe so,” she said. “Jason and Charles. Jason is the one with the military buzzcut. Charles shaves his head.” Celia told a few stories about the two men as they drove out of the city. And Rosalie talked about her own past boyfriends. And as they got to know each other finally, after being neighbors for over a year, Rosalie felt herself relax from the tension of the day, all her work anxieties draining away. By the time they arrived at the lake, Rosalie was already feeling as rested and refreshed as though she'd already had her weekend. This had been a marvelous idea. The boys pulled up in a pickup right behind them and she made herself useful, helping unload. As Jason and Celia built a fire, Rosalie stared out at the lake wistfully. She'd forgotten to bring a swimsuit, but she didn't want to soak her clothes by going in fully dressed. It was an isolated location, but she didn't know any of these people well enough to go skinny-dipping in front of them. If nothing else, she'd at least do some wading. Then she turned around, noticed the blanket Celia was spreading out over the ground. Rosalie realized that Destiny had just decided what she'd be doing on this trip. “Why did you bring that blanket?” she asked Celia. “Did I make a mistake? You told me to get anything we might need from your apartment. This seemed like a nice, sturdy blanket, but old enough to not worry about if it got a little stained.” That was true enough, Rosalie thought. It had been stained plenty. “That is my family's Summer blanket. It has a tradition.” “I can put it back in the truck,” Celia offered. “I didn't realize it was special.” “No. It's been laid out. It's too late. What will be will be.” “You're talking funny.” Rosalie nodded. “That blanket has a tradition.” “You said that.” “It was made as a gift for my grandmother when she got married. It was laid on her bed for the first time on her wedding night. My uncle was conceived that night. All my uncles and aunts, and my own mom, of course, were conceived on or under that blanket. Always in the summer. And like her mother, my mom lost her own virginity on that blanket. As did I. As did my brother. That blanket has claimed a lot of virginity and has caused a lot of babies to be born. I don't think we'll be able to resist its power.” “I didn't realize you were superstitious,” Celia said. “I'm not. And it sounds ridiculous, I know. But my family has always been wary of that blanket. Spring, Fall, and Winter, it's just a bedcover. But in the Summer, if you bring out that blanket, things happen. When I was eighteen and still in high school, my mom asked me to stay home one day so I could let in the plumber when he arrived. She hadn't realized it was the first day of Summer. The blanket was draped over the back of the couch. When the plumber got there, I didn't even speak to him. I opened the door, led him to the couch, and took my clothes off. I gave my virginity to a total stranger who smelled like rusted pipes.” “You weren't drinking or anything?” Celia asked skeptically. “I never drank at eighteen. It's the blanket. I told my mom what happened with the plumber, and she told me about the cable guy and reminded me of the time when she'd sent me to my room when the pizza arrived. That blanket seduces in the summers. It's summer now. Things are going to happen.” “Only if we want them to,” Calia promised. “Oh, we'll want it. We'll want it like we've never wanted anything in our lives. We'll want it more than we'll want our next breath.” Celia clearly didn't believe her, but Rosalie was resigned to this fate and didn't bother trying to convince her. She'd planted the seeds. Belief would come later. She picked up her backpack and headed for the fateful blanket, wondering which of these guys was going to have her this day. The boys gave her a friendly greeting and offered her a beer. She almost declined, for the sake of the baby. She had to remind herself that she wasn't pregnant yet. Probably by midnight. But not yet. She took the bottle they gave her and swigged down a third of its contents. Even knowing what the evening had in store for her, Rosalie was still feeling relaxed and optimistic. And the cool, clear water of the lake was even more inviting than it had been before. She might get some swim time in after all, considering what Destiny had in store for her, even if Destiny needed a little help. They settled down to just talk and watch the fire and the water. Celia and her friends talked of people, places, and events that Rosalie didn't know. Rather than feeling bored or offended, a sense of anticipation was building inside her. The Summer Day was hot, but Rosalie's arms were covered with goose bumps as excitement flowed through her veins. She lay back on the Summer blanket and wondered about the wisdom of telling Celia about the legend. The rational mind would reject such a concept. But she remembered the weight of that plumber, crushing her into the sofa, claiming her innocence without even knowing her name. It was a true story, even if she'd fudged some of the details. The heat in her blood got to be too much. She had to act. She needed to bring that simmer up to a boil or find a way to cool it down. Looking to the lake again, she thought, or maybe do both at once. “I'm going for a swim,” Rosalie announced. It no longer mattered that she didn't have a swimsuit. She took off her t-shirt and threw it on the blanket, then wriggled out of her jean shorts. She was still wearing her underwear, but she didn't want to get it wet, and sooner or later, at least one of these guys was going to see everything she had. It was guaranteed. They were both cute, Jason with a soldier's ruggedness and Charles looking like a shy physicist who still might win two out of three arm wrestling matches at the tavern. Rosalie didn't know enough about them to make a choice, so she'd let them choose. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, tossing it on her growing pile of clothes. Sliding her panties down her legs, she took a quick peek at the three shocked faces watching her strip. Rosalie's face was red, but she had no regrets. She ran to the water and kept going until she was waist-deep in the lake. Only then did she turn around and look at her companions. The boys had turned to grin at each other. Celia was looking out at her like she was crazy. But none of them seemed particularly offended or angry. That possibility had occurred to her as she was running, but it had been too late to undo the striptease and even if they had been upset, it would not have been enough of a reason to put her clothes back on. “Come on in!” Rosalie yelled. “The water feels great!” Jason and Charles jumped up and started shucking off their clothes. Celia hesitated, but as she saw her two naked friends moving toward another female, she knew she could not sit this out. Celia was willing to let Rosalie have one of the men, but not both. And Celia wanted first choice. It took her less than a minute to get out of her own clothes and by the time Jason and Charles reached Rosalie in the water, Celia had caught up. It was only awkward for a moment, standing in the waist-deep water, all four of them pretending not to notice the girls' bare tits. But Rosalie felt a sense of duty. She had started this. It was her task to break the ice. “If you want to touch my boobs, it's okay. You have my permission,” she said to Celia. They all laughed, as Rosalie had intended. “What about us?” Charlie asked. “Of course. Celia has my permission to touch both of you as well. If she wants to.” Under the surface of the water, Rosalie reached out and grabbed both men's cocks. “Fine specimens, girlfriend. Would you like to handle the merchandise?” “I've never seen you like this,” Celia marveled. “It's the blanket. I told you this would happen.” “What about the blanket?” Charlie asked. “Never mind. Don't you want to put your hands on me?” “Of course,” he said, reaching for her chest. She slapped his hand away. “Ask Celia first. Show her what you want to do to me, then ask permission. If you impress her, she might say yes.” Charlie put his hand on Celia's tit and squeezed it gently. “Can I touch your friend? Like this?” he asked. Celia nodded and he put his other hand on Rosalie's chest, fondling both women at once. Rosalie looked at Jason. “Now you.” Understanding, Jason grabbed hold of Celia's free breast, and at her nod, claimed Rosalie's as well. She'd never felt anything like this, two men groping her at once, neither of them known to her. And she had two cocks in her hands. It was taboo and exciting. She was thrilled to be trying this, especially under the open sky. Rosalie and Celia stroked the boys under the water while the boys fondled them above the water. “This was a good idea,” Rosalie said. “If this is what picnics are like, I've been missing out.” “I've never been on a picnic like this,” Jason admitted. “What do you usually do?” “Well, if there's a beach, and girls who are willing, we might have a chicken fight.” “What's that?” It was Charlie who answered. “The girls get on the guys' shoulders and then try to knock each other off.” “Long way to fall. Good way to get hurt,” Rosalie mused. Celia laughed. “No, they do it in the water. It's like double-decker dunking.” “I'm game,” Rosalie volunteered. “No! We're naked! Our…you know…will be right on their necks.” “You could ride backward,” Jason suggested. Rosalie blushed as hard as Celia, but she said again, “I'm game.” She could just imagine pressing her crotch to a guy's face as she struggled to throw Celia into the water. “I don't think so,” Celia said. “Too bad,” Rosalie lamented. “You guys will just have to think of another way to kiss us down under.” Charlie grinned. “What about you? Are you willing to taste a little sausage?” “I'm afraid not. I never do that unless I get tricked into it.” Rosalie shook her head ruefully. Then she slyly grinned. “Unfortunately, I am notoriously easy to trick.” “How does a guy go about tricking you? Any advice would be appreciated,” Jason said. Rosalie screwed up her face into an expression of deep thinking. “Well, I'm a fiend for chocolate. If you told me that your dick tasted like chocolate, I'd be skeptical, but I would probably have to test the claim for myself.” Celia was feeling bolder with Rosalie's outrageous behavior making her own shyness disappear. “What if he told you his sperm tasted like chocolate?” she asked Rosalie, joining in the playful banter. “That would be very clever. I would almost certainly have to take a taste.” “What if I wanted to fuck you?” Charlie asked her. “That's up to Celia. Celia gets to choose who fucks who.” Both men looked at Celia, who blushed, but accepted the responsibility. And she'd gotten braver. “I want you guys to make a good impression on Rosalie. I think you should both fuck me first. Whoever does it best can then have her.” This was more than agreeable to the boys. They glanced at each other, then each of them picked up one of the girls and started carrying her to the beach. Rosalie happily found herself supported by a strong man's arms. Charlie carried her out of the lake and laid her gently on the blanket. Celia was plopped down next to her. The expression on her friend's face was nervous but excited. She pointed to Jason to go first. He came down on top of her. She spread her legs and lifted her knees to welcome him, as if the grin on her face didn't do that already. Jason lifted her ass from that blanket and sat down, seating her on his thighs and pulling Celia onto his lap. Rosalie had watched porn before, so what she was seeing was not new to her, but she'd never gotten a live show. With her cheek next to Celia's, she just looked down and watched as Jason's cock penetrated her friend. He went in slow and gentle and then stopped when he was seated balls deep. As he pulled back out, Rosalie saw the shining moisture on dick and could resist reaching down to touch it. She put the tips of two fingers on him, feeling him slide into the pussy. “Hey, Celia!” Charlie called out, also watching the fucking, “Is it okay if your buddy gives me a blowjob? Out in the water, she said it was up to you.” Celia gave her consent and Rosalie sat up and smiled at him. She looked down at his dick, which was rock hard and pointed at her. “Come closer,” she said. “Stand on the blanket.” She pointed at where she wanted him. He knelt down, straddling Celia's head. Rosalie was able to look her friend in the eye as she took Charlie into her mouth. She wanted Celia to watch her sucking this cock. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed important. And she should have an excellent view. Celia should be looking up at Charlie's cock and balls from just inches away. The smooth skin of his penis sliding through Rosalie's lips should be very up close. The hard, hot flesh on her tongue was exciting and wonderful but it was also a distraction. Rosalie was trying to keep her attention on Celia, flicking her eyes back and forth from Jason's cock in her pussy and then back to Celia's eyes. “Don't come,” Celia moaned. “Who are you talking to?” Jason asked. “I'm starting to get close.” “Both of you, stupidhead. I'm just the tester. Rosalie is the one you're auditioning for. If either of you come now, show's over. Besides, I'm not on the pill and you're not using a condom. I don't want that stuff inside me today.” “Then we'd better change off pretty soon,” he said. “I'm ready,” Charlie agreed. “I want to try some pussy.” Rosalie reluctantly released Charlie's cock from her mouth and lay down to be fucked by Jason. But Celia objected. “No. Not yet. I'm not done evaluating. When I decide who is the best fucker, that's the one who gets you. Just suck his cock while I try out Charlie.” That was acceptable. Rosalie got back on her knees and knelt at Celia's side. She leaned across her to taste Jason's Celia-flavored dick while Celia herself got plugged with a new man's cock. Rosalie grinned around Jason at the grunting sound Celia made. Mission accomplished, she thought. Celia had long wanted both these men. Now it was done. She might be less shy in the future, and even if she wasn't, these guys would surely come back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Rosalie was also enjoying the adventure. Rosalie had never tasted pussy before. But she had bathed Charlie's cock with her tongue, coating it with her spit, before he plunged it into Celia. And now Jason's dick was in her mouth, soaked in Celia's juices. It was almost like she was licking Celia's cunt. She savored the experience, “I've made a decision,” Celia panted as Charlie continued to ride her. “Jason is quite the excellent fucker, but Charlie's the one having me right now. I think my favorite is always going to be the one on top of me.” “A cock in the bush is better than the one in the friend?” Rosalie teased. “Exactly. So Jason can fuck you now if you want him to.” “Oh, I do! If he's ready.” “I have never been so ready,” Jason said, pulling out of her mouth and practically shoving her onto her back. Rosalie laughed as she fell backwards and Jason threw himself on top of her, but then gasped as his cock speared her deep. She was lying side by side next to Celia and reached out to clasp her hand in camaraderie. She felt like she and Celia were sisters in a harem or whores at a bachelor party. She didn't even know these boys and she'd sucked both their cocks and was now letting one of them fuck her. And Celia was getting fucked right beside her. Enjoying the visual, Rosalie went from watching Charlie's dick plunging into Celia, then back to Jason plunging into her own welcoming cunt. She could feel the thick, hot flesh filling her, opening her up and she could feel the squeeze of Celia's hand each time Charlie thrust into her. “Oh, God” Chalie said. “I'm about to come!” “No!” Celia said. “Not inside me. Get out! Get out!” Charlie pulled out, his cock throbbing and red, ready to burst. “Where?” he asked. “Tits? Face? Can I come in your mouth?” “Tits. Then I can wash it off in the lake.” “You can come in my mouth,” Rosalie offered. “Or if you're willing to wait until your buddy finishes, you can come in my pussy.” “Do that,” Celia said. “Come in her. I'd love to watch that.” “Does that mean I can come inside you?” Jason asked. “If you want to,” Rosalie agreed. “Are you on the pill?” “Not at all. You'll have to take your chances. You might end up a daddy.” “Oh, fuck!” he said. Rosalie smiled as she realized he'd already gone beyond the ability to choose. His cock was pulsing and there was a new warm wetness inside her. “That's it,” she said. “That's right. Fill me up. Give them to me. All your little babymakers. I need them.” “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jason grunted as poured into her. Rosalie closed her eyes and just savored the experience. She rarely came from sex alone and didn't really expect to. But there was something incredibly erotic about having a man's seed inside her. It was Rosalie's biggest turn-on. Nothing made her hotter. As Jason rested, still embedded deep, Rosalie snuck her hand down to her clit and started rubbing. His orgasm would provide the fuel for hers. As she stroked herself, Jason was yanked violently away. “My turn!” Charles insisted. Bereft of one man's cock, Rosalie smiled and welcomed the second. And she was aware of Celia getting to her hands and knees to crawl over and get a good view as Charles' cock sank deep inside her. Rosalie was acting like a major slut, she knew, and she was enjoying it, but she'd never had sex in front of other people before. Nobody had ever stared at her pussy as a cock entered her. Never before had a man come inside her. She'd dreamed about it, fantasized about it, but never let it happen. And she'd never had sex with two different men in the same day before. Not even in the same month. But with Charlie plunging in and out of her and Jason's seed still deep within her, Rosalie's mind dissolved into the pure bliss of the moment. She rubbed her clit furiously and listened to Charles' breathing. When he started to grunt and shake, she let herself go. The orgasm rode her even harder than Charlie was doing, owned her more completely. It was the feeling of ultimate female vulnerability. She was invaded, possessed by more than the man's cock. Jason had filled her with his very essence. And now Charlie had his dick in her and she was eagerly anticipating a similar gift. She literally had two men inside her, occupying her at once. And just as her climax started to fade, Charlie reached his own orgasm. The second dose of semen spurting into her triggered a fresh ecstasy. Rosalie pressed up against Charlie, her legs wide open, trying to take him as deep as possible and let his seed flow even deeper. And she quivered and trembled beneath him as the spasms claimed her body. She grunted and panted and howled as the power of her climax took her. Jason came up behind her, crouched down and dropped his cock on her face. She happily took him into her mouth, tasting her own pussy, and Celia's, as Jason's sperm, and Charlie's, swarmed toward her womb. And even as her orgasm faded, another began. Charlie rested in her cunt and Jason used her mouth, but Rosalie was barely aware of either. Her body was no longer her own. Her mind was almost extinguished. She belonged utterly to the men who fucked her and the orgasm that seized her. Out of mists and joy, Rosalie's mind slowly reassembled. She came back to full awareness as both cocks were removed from her. There was a bitter flavor in her mouth, evidence that Jason had found his pleasure in her body a second time. She sat up shakily, swallowed Jason's offering, and grinned at Celia. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said as the boys ran to the lake to wash off the sweat and cool down. Celia laughed. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the blanket,” she said. “That's a pretty powerful enchantment, or whatever.” “I bought that blanket at a yard sale,” Rosalie confessed. “But you needed the courage to act on your lust for those guys.” “You said you lost your virginity to a plumber because of that blanket.” “I lost my virginity to a plumber because I had decided it was time to be rid of my virginity. I didn't even own the blanket yet.” “You mean I fucked two guys all on my own?” “Yup,” Rosalie nodded. “We both did.” “Do you often do things like this? You let them both fuck you too. At least I thought I was under a spell.” “I've always wanted to do something like this. But today was a first. You gave me an excuse.” “I'm glad I was here to be of service. Shall we join the guys in the water? They might recover enough to have us both again.” Rosalie nodded. “If not now, then tonight for sure. This is the best Summer outing I've ever had.”  for Literotica

All children deserve to feel safe, loved and cared for, but for far too many, that's not the reality.The effects of enduring childhood abuse and neglect are profound, shaping the adults that kids turn into and often perpetuating the cycle. My guest today is a first generation Australian, raised in a broken home, caught in the crossfire of his mother and father fighting each other and battling their own demons. Bereft of support when he needed it most, Jason has grown up to build his life around caring for others.He's the Co-owner of the industry disrupting disability support provider, Vana Care; a husband, and a father of three, who's had the guts to pursue his dreams; and the humility to forgive. This is Jason Wisniewski's story...

Bereft of guests, Jared and JM snuggle up close to talk about some of their very favorite cozy games.