Podcasts about Bleary

Show 231 Sleeping On The Job Show recorded on 18/9/24 43 minutes In this show we cover some correspondence and look forward to the National Conference and Expo for 2024.   Sleeping On The Job Working Overtime Test Charges Lauren's Response Special Needs Rant Realised Fake Tests National Conference and Expo CPD Notes You can download the CPD notes and then and add your own notes, then use it towards your personal CPD. Download your PDF File from Here!   The ADINJC sponsors Dipod. Discover the fantastic work they do and the benefits of becoming a member at ADINJC.org.uk

Keir Starmer's Labour has won a landslide. Rishi Sunak's Tories have had their worst defeat in history. Beneath the bonnet of that is perhaps the weirdest election of the modern era. Bleary-eyed and caffeine-fuelled after a night of live broadcasting Jon, Emily and Lewis bring you the results of the 2024 general election and analyse what this decision we've all made will mean now.Editor: Tom HughesSenior Producer: Gabriel RadusVideo Production: Rory Symon, Shane Fennelly, Arvind BadewalYou can listen to this episode on Alexa - just say "Alexa, ask Global Player to play The News Agents"!The News Agents is brought to you by HSBC UK - https://www.hsbc.co.uk/https://store.global.com/collections/the-news-agents

Help Stop The Genocide In American Ghettos Podcast is a platform for ordinary law abiding citizens from Emmanuel Barbee friends list and from his social groups who are emerging artists, allied healthcare professionals, church leaders, and upcoming entrepreneurs to promote their products and services to people from the podcast community. This no holds-barred talk show focus on promoting grassroots advocacy, business, finance, health, community-based solutions, employment and Christianity which speaks to the interests of our listeners. Broadcasting on multiple social networks throughout the United States and around the globe. This show will provide insight on how our creative abilities can be used to create tangible change in our communities. These are not just online groups for me to sell my book but rather groups for us to build our own network so we can support one another. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/emmanuel-barbee/message

Bleary-eyed off the back of London Fashion Week, THE FACE's team report back from the catwalks and shmoozy parties on the styles, stories and gossip from the weekend. In this episode, we discuss the rise of Stefan Cooke's modern men, Olly Shinder's stellar Fashion East debut, Chopova Lowena's die-hard cult and the successes and controversies around Mowalola's killer show. Follow THE FACE on ⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠.

John continued finding the depths of his neighbors.By Bitterjohnzim. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Beth crossed the dark guestroom and slapped me, snapping her hand across my left ear and cheek. I reeled away, half-falling to the bed. I caught her second swing, outlined, now, by the exterior lights.“Beth!” I exclaimed and she stopped straining to strike me. “What the hell are you doing?”Initially, she was silent, struggling to pull her arm from my hand. We both heard the low drone of the shower in the bathroom and she hissed at me, “You were mine.” I pushed her away and flipped the light answitch by the veranda door. A lamp on either side of the bed flickered to life. In the low light of the guestroom, I knew how I would look, naked, muscular and hairy, cock still slick from congress with her daughter. Beth, a gorgeous brunette, was flush, her face red and the magnificent swell of her breasts heaving beneath a fitting tan top. Dark skinny jeans cupped her curves and legs, the outfit terminating functionally in dark tennis shoes“You're Tom's.” I stated simply, laying a calming hand on the woman's shoulder.A flash in her eyes- she was honestly angry, “We have an arrangement. Lacey, obviously, isn't a fucking part of it.”Shit. They were in an open marriage. She'd just been fucking around teasing me, before. Uh, until I put it to their daughter.“Beth, she's an adult, we had some fun, there's no reason to be tense, I'm just your friend.” I defended myself.Oh, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Beth jerked, and snagged my wavering dick. Twisting sharply, she demanded, “How are you my friend? We trusted you as a neighbor, I, might, have wanted to screw you, and I catch you fucking my daughter? Is that what friends do?”A moment after the sudden pain started, I wrapped a thick hand around Beth's throat and pushed her onto the bed. Her hand tightened until I squeezed her neck and both of her hands flew to my grip. The hot surge of adrenaline had me hard, and I momentarily felt the coarse denim of Beth's jeans beneath my cock. I was, now, choking a woman who had twisted my dick- after finding me nutting her daughter. What the fuck is my life?I pressed Beth into the bedding and she made, the single horniest noise I've ever heard from a woman. Somewhere between a groan and a purr, she glared at me through lusty eyes. Her breathing was fast and straining. Her flushed cheeks and expression rattled a memory of a deeply submissive former partner. I suddenly suspected Beth had been out on the twilight veranda longer than her surging, violent response implied.So, I did something insane. I didn't release her throat, but I did wrench her jeans down with my free hand. They slipped down her wide hips easily. The top buttons of her fly had been undone beneath the edge of her shirt. Beneath a tiny, lacey, tan thong, which peeled over her perfectly fat ass. As I pulled her dark skinny jeans to her knees. The weird declaration of ownership over me, the teasing, the disheveled jeans, and uncharacteristic transition to physical violence, the absurd intimacy of having sought to punish my statement by grabbing my cock, her body wavered between fury and lust; was utterly betrayed by the musk of her ardor and dripping mess of her bald pussy.Wordlessly; thoughtlessly, really; I stepped to the soft, exposed curve of her ass and ran the stone column of my erection over her cleft and clit. Her breath caught, her hands on my arm holding her by the throat drove long, perfectly manicured nails into my skin. I twisted my other hand in the knot of garments I held at her calves, soles of her tennis shoes held heavenward, restraining her entirely except for her hands. I pressed her legs back until her naked thighs were against her cream shirt, and her sopping pussy and ass were hoisted between us.Her eyes widened and I shifted her until my cock matched the entrance of her vulva. And, then, I pushed. Her body resisted, the membranes of her labia dragging harshly over the still-sticky skin of my cock, but I withdrew and pressed until the dampness of her own arousal slicked my passage, and I was slapping steadily into Beth.She released her painful grip from my arm and covered her face, grunting softly with pleasure and frustration each time my fat rod bottomed out entirely. I didn't just thrust, I hauled the mostly clothed woman to me as I drove and heaved her away as I withdrew. Her hairless, soaking cunt was, yet, unbelievably tight, gripping me obscenely as I used her roughly, soft ass and thighs rippled and bounced against the hairy muscles of my abdomen and groin.Beth trembled abruptly, hands grabbing at my left forearm, again. Her eyes were clamped closed and face caught in an ecstatic rictus. I wondered, briefly, as her pelvic floor twisted even tighter around my intruding mass, if she was as sensitive as her daughter, post-orgasm.I hugged her legs in my right arm and redoubled the pace. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth gaped in a ragged gasp. I ran my left hand up her neck, pressing a finger across her lips, shushing her with a meaningful tilt of my head towards the bathroom door, beyond which we could still hear Lacey showering. Then I twisted my fingers in her hair and began to slam-fuck Beth in earnest.In rough, rapid thrusts, I tried to put a seam across where I folded her legs against her chest, and a permanent claim to a gape in her cunt. The bed protested, but I ignored it's complaints as I ignored Beth's sharp grapple that slowly raised painful furrows across my back and up my shoulders. Sweat beaded across my body, Beth's wetness dripped off my balls. Her eyes were tightly shut, again, head twisted back by my fist in her brown locks. Her legs flailed and spasmed incessantly in my embrace, and I hunched tighter to avoid the sweep of her tennis shoes. Her pussy clenched and flexed in time with her panting breaths. My own breathing was hot at her throat.Purposefully, I drove myself on until the thought occurred to me; that I hadn't gotten to see those massive tits swinging as I rode her. Abruptly I could take no more, and was cumming, exhaling in restrained groans, back arching, and pouring into the woman beneath me.I released my hold on the hard-breathing milf's hair and momentarily collapsed. I felt fluid dripping between us. I hauled myself back upright, proud post slipping from her depths. I raised her slightly off the bed, watching the tremble in her legs and quiver of her holes slow and relax. The bedspread at the corner I had fucked her on was dark and our mix flowed freely down her tawny ass to join the stain. The effluence from her orifice subsided and I released her legs, dropping her on her side. Bleary eyed, she, nonetheless, reached down with the green and gold silk robe, still half twisted in her left hand, and wiped resolutely at her abused sex while carefully sitting up on the edge of the bed.I pulled my underwear and jeans on and tossed my cum-stained shirt onto the bed, deciding the bedspread was just going in the laundry, too. I knelt between Beth's spread knees, legs still trapped in the twisted knot of her jeans and panties. I cleaned stray droplets of sweat and cum from her bare thighs with a clean corner of the bedspread before deciding getting her jeans up was a lost cause and slipping her shoes, pants and undergarment gently off.Keen awareness of the importance of aftercare, and post-nut clarity of exactly how roughly I had handled her was suddenly forefront in my mind. Her eyes avoided mine, and she pointed to her pants as I ran the blanket one last time up her thighs. “My phone?” she supplicated. I produced it from her back pocket and handed the chrome and glass sliver to her. Immediately, she began sending a text.Concluding the silently generated communication, she stood. II followed suit, handing over her garments. Her body was close, her breasts just brushing my chest, but I was much taller, so even standing straight and proud, she didn't look me in the eyes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror: hair stringy with sweat, makeup a smudged ruin, mostly naked, for good measure.“Another bathroom, John? I don't think I want to speak with Lacey, now.” She admitted.The other guest room on the main floor was pretty bare bones, mostly used when I had a crowd passing through. “Is the master alright?” I offered.“Master would be fine.” We then heard the guest shower turned off. I led her quickly to the master bedroom, dominated by a dark four-post bed, and dimly lit by decorative sconces.Her phone chirped. As she addressed the message I turned on the light in the master bath and dressed in a clean shirt. Returning to the guest room, I stripped the bedspread and stuffed it, and my shirt, in a hamper. I found a similar, clean bedspread in the linen closet and made the bed.Glancing around, I found nothing particularly obvious to expose any of the evening's goings on, and slipped to the kitchen. I drew a couple handfuls of cold water at the sink and splashed my face, silently seeking absolution from any of this madness. Toweling the moisture from my hands, I stepped to the open veranda door and spotted my coffee cup on the patio table. Blessed alcohol and caffeine could fix this. They can fix anything. I drank the bitter mixture in one gulp, making a face.Stone cold, and not better for it.I turned back to face the open doors of my house, and, eventually, settled into the patio chair I had occupied earlier. There were crickets chirping in the hedges and grass; the night was still and overcast, now, holding on to a bit of the day's warmth.The guest room lights blinked off, and the thin blonde woman in a red halter top and cutoffs emerged, the door quietly clicking closed behind her. Guilty, sly smile on Lacey's pretty face, she crossed to where I sat.“That was awkward.” She rocked on her heels briefly, coltish legs flexing. “Mom seems kinda mad. Did she say anything to you?”I grinned, and replied; “She slapped the shit out of me and asked to use a different bathroom.”“She didn't, uh.”I waved her off, “Beth was mad.” I said.The righteous indignation that Lacey had displayed earlier flared a bit and the slender girl stood a little straighter, “It's none of her business what I do or who I do them with.”I shrugged, “I've been here since my grandparents passed away. Tom & Beth were their neighbors for decades before that. There's a bit of an expectation, as friendly as we are, that I'm supposed to be safe from being a creepy, old man around their little girl.”Lacey leaned close, “Little girl? I think I remember distinctly being the pursuer, old man.” She slid me a mostly chaste kiss and half-turned away. “We'll be more discreet next time. Maybe don't leave the door open?”“Next time?” The vision of this young woman, a decade and a half younger than me, flashed in my mind, and was subsumed by the other vision, a milf who's a decade and a half older than me, each with my hairy knuckles at their throat and ecstasy on their faces. I could feel a blush rising.“You weren't bad, old man.” Her voice trailed, and a last bright smile glowed as she vanished into the shadows of the yard.I didn't linger long. I took up the empty coffee cup and entered the kitchen, closing, and locking that door.I thought to just wait Beth out. The steak in my fridge called to me and my stomach complained. I checked my own phone where it was charging on the roll-top desk in the butler's pantry.Three unread texts. One was from Beth. It read, “Come back to the bedroom, please.”So, I did. Beth was on a black leather dressing bench at the foot of the bed, facing the open master bathroom door, typing away at her phone and still half-dressed. She had a sweater on, but her ass and legs were naked. Her pants, and panties were loosely folded atop her shoes by her feet. She'd removed the tiny scraps of cotton that passed for socks, too.She looked calm as she glanced up from her phone at my approach. She turned back to whatever she was typing and spread her toes out in the thick pile of the carpet. I stopped two paces away, a tall shadow in my own bedroom, wondering where this strange ride would stop.I started to ask if I could get her a drink, but stopped before the first syllable escaped. This was another game of control, from her. She was controlling the space by settling in, ignoring me, and ignoring the state I left her in. I stepped uncontestable close, my shadow cast from the bathroom light darkening her form entirely, and while my first impulse was to touch her hand holding her phone, instead, caressed the tangled hair at her right temple.She stopped breathing, stopped typing, and closed her eyes as I pushed stray brown locks behind her ear and softly spoke, “You haven't showered.” She didn't lean into my hand like a lover's caress, but instead calmly endured the touch. When I withdrew, her eyes opened and she stood, discarding the phone to the bench but still not meeting my eyes. Her breath hitched gently. “Your family will be waiting. Tom mentioned you have dinner plans.”There was something strange in the green eyes that turned up to meet mine, “I told Lacey I would talk to her about,  it, tomorrow. I had already planned with Tom to skip going out to dinner, unless I texted him when I came over here. I assumed you and I would find an arrangement.”Oh. Ooh. The woman was all in twists. Guess that explained the presence of that silk bathrobe, tonight.I laid a hand on her hip, half my fingers on the edge of the soft tan fabric of her sweater, the others on her naked flesh. “What arrangement were you seeking, Beth?”She shivered beneath my hand, “Not, that. That was intense. When I found you with Lacey, with her where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but watch a little.”She stepped to the side, not away, but out from my shadow. Her voice calmed, “It's hardly the first time I've caught one of my daughters being, intimate.” She paused and uttered a small huffed laugh, “Lacey, especially; but it was the first time I've found one of them with someone I wanted as my lover. So, I was turned on, a little, a lot, and hurt.”Beth laid a hand over mine, and guided it softly upwards to her waste and squeezed herself with my larger grip. “And, then, you took me,” she said, her voice falling low.God, help me, I was ready to, again.Her free hand pressed against my chest, she craned her head to whisper to me, “I felt everything you did to me and wanted to say no, but I just couldn't, between your hand on my throat and your cock beating the wind out of me. So, I just came instead.”Her fingers twisted in my belt loops, and she dragged my pants slowly, side to side over my struggling erection. “I haven't felt sex like that in years and I want more.” She confessed.I grunted to cover a growing moan and clear my throat. “What about Tom?”“Tom's the love of my life, but not interested much. He gets off on the stories I share, and has participated in a few memories, but after the girls were all born I wanted sex twice a day and he would rather have a cocktail and a nap.”Beth undid my fly and drew my stiffening cock from my boxer-briefs. “I'd appreciate if you kept things normal.”“Normal? What's your normal?““You know, you're friends with Tom; none of this needs to come up-”“No, I mean, you're pursuing pretty serious kink if you're asking me for repeats of tonight.” The idea of a consensual non-consent inclusive relationship with my older neighbor's wife was not how I thought this would turn out. My cock was steel in her soft hands. Her caresses were unstructured, her focus on our conversation.“I had friends into kinkier things, that I used to play with. They were members of our dinner club. They eventually moved or became uninterested; or are just isolated from the world until the pandemic passes.”My focus was entirely on the parts of the woman contacting my dick and the clerical necessity of the remaining details was abruptly interfering. “Safe word?” I requested.“Oh, yes, I have a great one,” she whispered it in my ear.Now, excited by the context of my question, she became a positive chatterbox, her voice soft and conspiritorial, “I love a little bondage, spanking, choking, fucking in public;”Right, the basic fun stuff, things your dinner club swinger friends get up to: I could work with that. I took her hands in mine, squeezing her caresses into steady strokes. I started my own teasing; “If I grab you while you're shopping for groceries and fuck you in the parking garage?”That got her horny eyes slitted and she jerked me steadily, “Are you going to do that?” she wanted to know.“If I pin you against the shower wall and fuck your ass until you can't stand?” I said as I pulled her close and pawed at her ass. Slowly, I worked a finger against her knot without pressing in, just teasing the twist of tissue.She bit her lower lip and sighed, “Are you going to fuck my ass, “daddy? ”I didn't answer right away but I took Beth by the shoulders and guided her back to where she had been sitting, gently pushing her back down to the dressing bench. I flexed and my cock gently bobbed before her face. I could feel her breath along its length. “No, I think “daddy” would be just fine. Hands on your knees.“She gave a momentary, insatiably wicked grin before I was pressing closer to her face. Her lips parted into an accommodating “O” and she leaned forward primly. I pressed the fat head of my cock between her lips, the flicker of her tongue and heat of her mouth luring me forward.I pumped gently, just the glans popping in and out from the soft curl of Beth's hungry mouth. She slowly leaned forward, until I couldn't stand the passivity and my hands twisted again in her long brunette curls. I drew her to me, and away, slowly fucking her face into my rigid form. She grunted at the depth of my pull and gasped when I drew away from her. Her green eyes were locked on the violating shape, slathered in her spit, half lidded and fervent. I stood away and gently lifted at her shoulders, “Stand.”My spittle dampened cock ground against her sweater covered stomach, but I drew that up and over her head. She had a tan bra on, structurally significant and worthy of the prize it enshrined. I held her to my chest and unbuckled the troika of latches. Peeling the soft garment away, I leaned low, biting and nibbling her gorgeous tits. She grunted and pumped harshly at my sopping cock. I turned her, cupping her massive breasts and driving her over the bench. She collapsed forward, the cleft of her ass soft around my hard cock.Beth pushed herself up and hoisted herself to a steady presentation, and I bowed to the warmth of her womanhood. I could taste my own cum, still weeping from the slick lips of her vulva. I found her clit with my tongue and slipped fingers into her, first a knuckle, and then a few, and then I pressed into the hot, dark twist of her ass, always lingering on the tight, erective pearl, and knowing I was going to take more and more and more. Her orgasm was shuddering and gasping, her face against the foot of my bed, her body collapsing over the leather bench. I pulled my hands from her constricting heat, and kissed the pulsing wink of her ass. Her hands filled the void between her legs, petting at her burning sex.I crossed to a bedside table and flipped a light switch. The hard breathing form at the base of my bed was haloed in bright lights, and reflected in the massive mirrors overhead and at the headboard. I plucked a bottle of lube from the table's drawer. Beth was blinking against the bright lights, eyes unfocused as she found the vision of herself, naked, and bent at the foot of my bed, chest and cheeks flushed. I saw her watch the reflected length of my cock cross the mirror and square up behind her gasping body. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head into the blankets, the arch of her back sagging and turning her hips graciously towards me.“I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I watched her face in the mirror. She pressed back, the delicate flesh of her bald cunt slick against my dick.“Just put it in my pussy,” she asserted. “You're so big, just fuck me.”I grabbed her hand and filled it with lube. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I slipped my cock into her slippery fingers, “I haven't even kissed you but I'll have my dick in all of your slutty holes.”She moaned, her hand closed around my cock and pumped, smearing the lube wildly. “Do you like that, Beth? Do you like being a slut to a big cock?”Her eyes were closed, she purred, “Yes, ”“Yes?” I slipped a couple slick fingers into her, one into the opalescent gape of her cunt, and another roughly into the dark knot of her ass.Beth's eyes opened, “Yes, daddy.”I pumped my fingers in time to her hand jerking my cock, “Yes?”“I'm a slut for your big cock, daddy?” There was a fervor in her voice as it seemed to drop to a whine.“Where am I going to fuck you, slut?”“Fuck my ass, daddy.”I struck her wide, beautiful ass hard, a red handprint welt immediately rising, “Spread it and ask nicely.”Beth's hands, perfectly manicured, slick with lube, spread her fat ass cheeks wide, the tight twist of her body nuzzling the head of my length, “Please, fuck my ass, daddy?” She rolled her hips and the head of my cock slipped against her crack to the cleft of her cunt. Beth moaned and leaned back, I popped into her effortlessly. I couldn't resist, I let her buck on my cock a few minutes before leaning deep, feeling her hot, wet depths, driving her flat on the bed. But I was christening my new three whole whore, and I wrenched myself free of her molten pussy.My voice was raw, “Where?”Her face in the mirror was expressionless, and her voice a bare whisper, “Fuck my ass, daddy?”I lunged into her. I slipped into her, the muscles of her abdomen parting once and again and I was inside her. I took Beth's throat in my hands and hauled her upright while I did my best to split her from the bottom. She was, in the reflection above the headboard, flawless in my arms, her hands gripped at my forearms, her breath came in groaning blasts, my balls beat a steady pulse as I sodomized the gorgeous creature. I wrestled from her throat, where I could control the angle of her body and listen to her grunting reply, to the heavy breasts that swung so erotically when unrestrained from our animal coupling. I had either hand on her massive tits when I lunged with finality into her, every muscular burst into her depths echoed with my grunts and Beth's gasping moans.She went limp beneath me, and together we breathed deeply, my lips at her ear. I rolled her over, and took her in my arms, her body hot and damp against me, we kissed for the first time and I felt the sloppy mess between her legs on my thighs as keenly as her enormous breasts between us.I was already stirring again when I lifted Beth from my bed and carried her to the wide tiled chamber of the house's master shower. We'd be spending a lot of time, here, it didn't seem proper not to introduce it to her fully.By Bitterjohnzim for Literotica

John continued finding the depths of his neighbors.By Bitterjohnzim. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Beth crossed the dark guestroom and slapped me, snapping her hand across my left ear and cheek. I reeled away, half-falling to the bed. I caught her second swing, outlined, now, by the exterior lights.“Beth!” I exclaimed and she stopped straining to strike me. “What the hell are you doing?”Initially, she was silent, struggling to pull her arm from my hand. We both heard the low drone of the shower in the bathroom and she hissed at me, “You were mine.” I pushed her away and flipped the light answitch by the veranda door. A lamp on either side of the bed flickered to life. In the low light of the guestroom, I knew how I would look, naked, muscular and hairy, cock still slick from congress with her daughter. Beth, a gorgeous brunette, was flush, her face red and the magnificent swell of her breasts heaving beneath a fitting tan top. Dark skinny jeans cupped her curves and legs, the outfit terminating functionally in dark tennis shoes“You're Tom's.” I stated simply, laying a calming hand on the woman's shoulder.A flash in her eyes- she was honestly angry, “We have an arrangement. Lacey, obviously, isn't a fucking part of it.”Shit. They were in an open marriage. She'd just been fucking around teasing me, before. Uh, until I put it to their daughter.“Beth, she's an adult, we had some fun, there's no reason to be tense, I'm just your friend.” I defended myself.Oh, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Beth jerked, and snagged my wavering dick. Twisting sharply, she demanded, “How are you my friend? We trusted you as a neighbor, I, might, have wanted to screw you, and I catch you fucking my daughter? Is that what friends do?”A moment after the sudden pain started, I wrapped a thick hand around Beth's throat and pushed her onto the bed. Her hand tightened until I squeezed her neck and both of her hands flew to my grip. The hot surge of adrenaline had me hard, and I momentarily felt the coarse denim of Beth's jeans beneath my cock. I was, now, choking a woman who had twisted my dick- after finding me nutting her daughter. What the fuck is my life?I pressed Beth into the bedding and she made, the single horniest noise I've ever heard from a woman. Somewhere between a groan and a purr, she glared at me through lusty eyes. Her breathing was fast and straining. Her flushed cheeks and expression rattled a memory of a deeply submissive former partner. I suddenly suspected Beth had been out on the twilight veranda longer than her surging, violent response implied.So, I did something insane. I didn't release her throat, but I did wrench her jeans down with my free hand. They slipped down her wide hips easily. The top buttons of her fly had been undone beneath the edge of her shirt. Beneath a tiny, lacey, tan thong, which peeled over her perfectly fat ass. As I pulled her dark skinny jeans to her knees. The weird declaration of ownership over me, the teasing, the disheveled jeans, and uncharacteristic transition to physical violence, the absurd intimacy of having sought to punish my statement by grabbing my cock, her body wavered between fury and lust; was utterly betrayed by the musk of her ardor and dripping mess of her bald pussy.Wordlessly; thoughtlessly, really; I stepped to the soft, exposed curve of her ass and ran the stone column of my erection over her cleft and clit. Her breath caught, her hands on my arm holding her by the throat drove long, perfectly manicured nails into my skin. I twisted my other hand in the knot of garments I held at her calves, soles of her tennis shoes held heavenward, restraining her entirely except for her hands. I pressed her legs back until her naked thighs were against her cream shirt, and her sopping pussy and ass were hoisted between us.Her eyes widened and I shifted her until my cock matched the entrance of her vulva. And, then, I pushed. Her body resisted, the membranes of her labia dragging harshly over the still-sticky skin of my cock, but I withdrew and pressed until the dampness of her own arousal slicked my passage, and I was slapping steadily into Beth.She released her painful grip from my arm and covered her face, grunting softly with pleasure and frustration each time my fat rod bottomed out entirely. I didn't just thrust, I hauled the mostly clothed woman to me as I drove and heaved her away as I withdrew. Her hairless, soaking cunt was, yet, unbelievably tight, gripping me obscenely as I used her roughly, soft ass and thighs rippled and bounced against the hairy muscles of my abdomen and groin.Beth trembled abruptly, hands grabbing at my left forearm, again. Her eyes were clamped closed and face caught in an ecstatic rictus. I wondered, briefly, as her pelvic floor twisted even tighter around my intruding mass, if she was as sensitive as her daughter, post-orgasm.I hugged her legs in my right arm and redoubled the pace. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth gaped in a ragged gasp. I ran my left hand up her neck, pressing a finger across her lips, shushing her with a meaningful tilt of my head towards the bathroom door, beyond which we could still hear Lacey showering. Then I twisted my fingers in her hair and began to slam-fuck Beth in earnest.In rough, rapid thrusts, I tried to put a seam across where I folded her legs against her chest, and a permanent claim to a gape in her cunt. The bed protested, but I ignored it's complaints as I ignored Beth's sharp grapple that slowly raised painful furrows across my back and up my shoulders. Sweat beaded across my body, Beth's wetness dripped off my balls. Her eyes were tightly shut, again, head twisted back by my fist in her brown locks. Her legs flailed and spasmed incessantly in my embrace, and I hunched tighter to avoid the sweep of her tennis shoes. Her pussy clenched and flexed in time with her panting breaths. My own breathing was hot at her throat.Purposefully, I drove myself on until the thought occurred to me; that I hadn't gotten to see those massive tits swinging as I rode her. Abruptly I could take no more, and was cumming, exhaling in restrained groans, back arching, and pouring into the woman beneath me.I released my hold on the hard-breathing milf's hair and momentarily collapsed. I felt fluid dripping between us. I hauled myself back upright, proud post slipping from her depths. I raised her slightly off the bed, watching the tremble in her legs and quiver of her holes slow and relax. The bedspread at the corner I had fucked her on was dark and our mix flowed freely down her tawny ass to join the stain. The effluence from her orifice subsided and I released her legs, dropping her on her side. Bleary eyed, she, nonetheless, reached down with the green and gold silk robe, still half twisted in her left hand, and wiped resolutely at her abused sex while carefully sitting up on the edge of the bed.I pulled my underwear and jeans on and tossed my cum-stained shirt onto the bed, deciding the bedspread was just going in the laundry, too. I knelt between Beth's spread knees, legs still trapped in the twisted knot of her jeans and panties. I cleaned stray droplets of sweat and cum from her bare thighs with a clean corner of the bedspread before deciding getting her jeans up was a lost cause and slipping her shoes, pants and undergarment gently off.Keen awareness of the importance of aftercare, and post-nut clarity of exactly how roughly I had handled her was suddenly forefront in my mind. Her eyes avoided mine, and she pointed to her pants as I ran the blanket one last time up her thighs. “My phone?” she supplicated. I produced it from her back pocket and handed the chrome and glass sliver to her. Immediately, she began sending a text.Concluding the silently generated communication, she stood. II followed suit, handing over her garments. Her body was close, her breasts just brushing my chest, but I was much taller, so even standing straight and proud, she didn't look me in the eyes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror: hair stringy with sweat, makeup a smudged ruin, mostly naked, for good measure.“Another bathroom, John? I don't think I want to speak with Lacey, now.” She admitted.The other guest room on the main floor was pretty bare bones, mostly used when I had a crowd passing through. “Is the master alright?” I offered.“Master would be fine.” We then heard the guest shower turned off. I led her quickly to the master bedroom, dominated by a dark four-post bed, and dimly lit by decorative sconces.Her phone chirped. As she addressed the message I turned on the light in the master bath and dressed in a clean shirt. Returning to the guest room, I stripped the bedspread and stuffed it, and my shirt, in a hamper. I found a similar, clean bedspread in the linen closet and made the bed.Glancing around, I found nothing particularly obvious to expose any of the evening's goings on, and slipped to the kitchen. I drew a couple handfuls of cold water at the sink and splashed my face, silently seeking absolution from any of this madness. Toweling the moisture from my hands, I stepped to the open veranda door and spotted my coffee cup on the patio table. Blessed alcohol and caffeine could fix this. They can fix anything. I drank the bitter mixture in one gulp, making a face.Stone cold, and not better for it.I turned back to face the open doors of my house, and, eventually, settled into the patio chair I had occupied earlier. There were crickets chirping in the hedges and grass; the night was still and overcast, now, holding on to a bit of the day's warmth.The guest room lights blinked off, and the thin blonde woman in a red halter top and cutoffs emerged, the door quietly clicking closed behind her. Guilty, sly smile on Lacey's pretty face, she crossed to where I sat.“That was awkward.” She rocked on her heels briefly, coltish legs flexing. “Mom seems kinda mad. Did she say anything to you?”I grinned, and replied; “She slapped the shit out of me and asked to use a different bathroom.”“She didn't, uh.”I waved her off, “Beth was mad.” I said.The righteous indignation that Lacey had displayed earlier flared a bit and the slender girl stood a little straighter, “It's none of her business what I do or who I do them with.”I shrugged, “I've been here since my grandparents passed away. Tom & Beth were their neighbors for decades before that. There's a bit of an expectation, as friendly as we are, that I'm supposed to be safe from being a creepy, old man around their little girl.”Lacey leaned close, “Little girl? I think I remember distinctly being the pursuer, old man.” She slid me a mostly chaste kiss and half-turned away. “We'll be more discreet next time. Maybe don't leave the door open?”“Next time?” The vision of this young woman, a decade and a half younger than me, flashed in my mind, and was subsumed by the other vision, a milf who's a decade and a half older than me, each with my hairy knuckles at their throat and ecstasy on their faces. I could feel a blush rising.“You weren't bad, old man.” Her voice trailed, and a last bright smile glowed as she vanished into the shadows of the yard.I didn't linger long. I took up the empty coffee cup and entered the kitchen, closing, and locking that door.I thought to just wait Beth out. The steak in my fridge called to me and my stomach complained. I checked my own phone where it was charging on the roll-top desk in the butler's pantry.Three unread texts. One was from Beth. It read, “Come back to the bedroom, please.”So, I did. Beth was on a black leather dressing bench at the foot of the bed, facing the open master bathroom door, typing away at her phone and still half-dressed. She had a sweater on, but her ass and legs were naked. Her pants, and panties were loosely folded atop her shoes by her feet. She'd removed the tiny scraps of cotton that passed for socks, too.She looked calm as she glanced up from her phone at my approach. She turned back to whatever she was typing and spread her toes out in the thick pile of the carpet. I stopped two paces away, a tall shadow in my own bedroom, wondering where this strange ride would stop.I started to ask if I could get her a drink, but stopped before the first syllable escaped. This was another game of control, from her. She was controlling the space by settling in, ignoring me, and ignoring the state I left her in. I stepped uncontestable close, my shadow cast from the bathroom light darkening her form entirely, and while my first impulse was to touch her hand holding her phone, instead, caressed the tangled hair at her right temple.She stopped breathing, stopped typing, and closed her eyes as I pushed stray brown locks behind her ear and softly spoke, “You haven't showered.” She didn't lean into my hand like a lover's caress, but instead calmly endured the touch. When I withdrew, her eyes opened and she stood, discarding the phone to the bench but still not meeting my eyes. Her breath hitched gently. “Your family will be waiting. Tom mentioned you have dinner plans.”There was something strange in the green eyes that turned up to meet mine, “I told Lacey I would talk to her about,  it, tomorrow. I had already planned with Tom to skip going out to dinner, unless I texted him when I came over here. I assumed you and I would find an arrangement.”Oh. Ooh. The woman was all in twists. Guess that explained the presence of that silk bathrobe, tonight.I laid a hand on her hip, half my fingers on the edge of the soft tan fabric of her sweater, the others on her naked flesh. “What arrangement were you seeking, Beth?”She shivered beneath my hand, “Not, that. That was intense. When I found you with Lacey, with her where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but watch a little.”She stepped to the side, not away, but out from my shadow. Her voice calmed, “It's hardly the first time I've caught one of my daughters being, intimate.” She paused and uttered a small huffed laugh, “Lacey, especially; but it was the first time I've found one of them with someone I wanted as my lover. So, I was turned on, a little, a lot, and hurt.”Beth laid a hand over mine, and guided it softly upwards to her waste and squeezed herself with my larger grip. “And, then, you took me,” she said, her voice falling low.God, help me, I was ready to, again.Her free hand pressed against my chest, she craned her head to whisper to me, “I felt everything you did to me and wanted to say no, but I just couldn't, between your hand on my throat and your cock beating the wind out of me. So, I just came instead.”Her fingers twisted in my belt loops, and she dragged my pants slowly, side to side over my struggling erection. “I haven't felt sex like that in years and I want more.” She confessed.I grunted to cover a growing moan and clear my throat. “What about Tom?”“Tom's the love of my life, but not interested much. He gets off on the stories I share, and has participated in a few memories, but after the girls were all born I wanted sex twice a day and he would rather have a cocktail and a nap.”Beth undid my fly and drew my stiffening cock from my boxer-briefs. “I'd appreciate if you kept things normal.”“Normal? What's your normal?““You know, you're friends with Tom; none of this needs to come up-”“No, I mean, you're pursuing pretty serious kink if you're asking me for repeats of tonight.” The idea of a consensual non-consent inclusive relationship with my older neighbor's wife was not how I thought this would turn out. My cock was steel in her soft hands. Her caresses were unstructured, her focus on our conversation.“I had friends into kinkier things, that I used to play with. They were members of our dinner club. They eventually moved or became uninterested; or are just isolated from the world until the pandemic passes.”My focus was entirely on the parts of the woman contacting my dick and the clerical necessity of the remaining details was abruptly interfering. “Safe word?” I requested.“Oh, yes, I have a great one,” she whispered it in my ear.Now, excited by the context of my question, she became a positive chatterbox, her voice soft and conspiritorial, “I love a little bondage, spanking, choking, fucking in public;”Right, the basic fun stuff, things your dinner club swinger friends get up to: I could work with that. I took her hands in mine, squeezing her caresses into steady strokes. I started my own teasing; “If I grab you while you're shopping for groceries and fuck you in the parking garage?”That got her horny eyes slitted and she jerked me steadily, “Are you going to do that?” she wanted to know.“If I pin you against the shower wall and fuck your ass until you can't stand?” I said as I pulled her close and pawed at her ass. Slowly, I worked a finger against her knot without pressing in, just teasing the twist of tissue.She bit her lower lip and sighed, “Are you going to fuck my ass, “daddy? ”I didn't answer right away but I took Beth by the shoulders and guided her back to where she had been sitting, gently pushing her back down to the dressing bench. I flexed and my cock gently bobbed before her face. I could feel her breath along its length. “No, I think “daddy” would be just fine. Hands on your knees.“She gave a momentary, insatiably wicked grin before I was pressing closer to her face. Her lips parted into an accommodating “O” and she leaned forward primly. I pressed the fat head of my cock between her lips, the flicker of her tongue and heat of her mouth luring me forward.I pumped gently, just the glans popping in and out from the soft curl of Beth's hungry mouth. She slowly leaned forward, until I couldn't stand the passivity and my hands twisted again in her long brunette curls. I drew her to me, and away, slowly fucking her face into my rigid form. She grunted at the depth of my pull and gasped when I drew away from her. Her green eyes were locked on the violating shape, slathered in her spit, half lidded and fervent. I stood away and gently lifted at her shoulders, “Stand.”My spittle dampened cock ground against her sweater covered stomach, but I drew that up and over her head. She had a tan bra on, structurally significant and worthy of the prize it enshrined. I held her to my chest and unbuckled the troika of latches. Peeling the soft garment away, I leaned low, biting and nibbling her gorgeous tits. She grunted and pumped harshly at my sopping cock. I turned her, cupping her massive breasts and driving her over the bench. She collapsed forward, the cleft of her ass soft around my hard cock.Beth pushed herself up and hoisted herself to a steady presentation, and I bowed to the warmth of her womanhood. I could taste my own cum, still weeping from the slick lips of her vulva. I found her clit with my tongue and slipped fingers into her, first a knuckle, and then a few, and then I pressed into the hot, dark twist of her ass, always lingering on the tight, erective pearl, and knowing I was going to take more and more and more. Her orgasm was shuddering and gasping, her face against the foot of my bed, her body collapsing over the leather bench. I pulled my hands from her constricting heat, and kissed the pulsing wink of her ass. Her hands filled the void between her legs, petting at her burning sex.I crossed to a bedside table and flipped a light switch. The hard breathing form at the base of my bed was haloed in bright lights, and reflected in the massive mirrors overhead and at the headboard. I plucked a bottle of lube from the table's drawer. Beth was blinking against the bright lights, eyes unfocused as she found the vision of herself, naked, and bent at the foot of my bed, chest and cheeks flushed. I saw her watch the reflected length of my cock cross the mirror and square up behind her gasping body. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head into the blankets, the arch of her back sagging and turning her hips graciously towards me.“I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I watched her face in the mirror. She pressed back, the delicate flesh of her bald cunt slick against my dick.“Just put it in my pussy,” she asserted. “You're so big, just fuck me.”I grabbed her hand and filled it with lube. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I slipped my cock into her slippery fingers, “I haven't even kissed you but I'll have my dick in all of your slutty holes.”She moaned, her hand closed around my cock and pumped, smearing the lube wildly. “Do you like that, Beth? Do you like being a slut to a big cock?”Her eyes were closed, she purred, “Yes, ”“Yes?” I slipped a couple slick fingers into her, one into the opalescent gape of her cunt, and another roughly into the dark knot of her ass.Beth's eyes opened, “Yes, daddy.”I pumped my fingers in time to her hand jerking my cock, “Yes?”“I'm a slut for your big cock, daddy?” There was a fervor in her voice as it seemed to drop to a whine.“Where am I going to fuck you, slut?”“Fuck my ass, daddy.”I struck her wide, beautiful ass hard, a red handprint welt immediately rising, “Spread it and ask nicely.”Beth's hands, perfectly manicured, slick with lube, spread her fat ass cheeks wide, the tight twist of her body nuzzling the head of my length, “Please, fuck my ass, daddy?” She rolled her hips and the head of my cock slipped against her crack to the cleft of her cunt. Beth moaned and leaned back, I popped into her effortlessly. I couldn't resist, I let her buck on my cock a few minutes before leaning deep, feeling her hot, wet depths, driving her flat on the bed. But I was christening my new three whole whore, and I wrenched myself free of her molten pussy.My voice was raw, “Where?”Her face in the mirror was expressionless, and her voice a bare whisper, “Fuck my ass, daddy?”I lunged into her. I slipped into her, the muscles of her abdomen parting once and again and I was inside her. I took Beth's throat in my hands and hauled her upright while I did my best to split her from the bottom. She was, in the reflection above the headboard, flawless in my arms, her hands gripped at my forearms, her breath came in groaning blasts, my balls beat a steady pulse as I sodomized the gorgeous creature. I wrestled from her throat, where I could control the angle of her body and listen to her grunting reply, to the heavy breasts that swung so erotically when unrestrained from our animal coupling. I had either hand on her massive tits when I lunged with finality into her, every muscular burst into her depths echoed with my grunts and Beth's gasping moans.She went limp beneath me, and together we breathed deeply, my lips at her ear. I rolled her over, and took her in my arms, her body hot and damp against me, we kissed for the first time and I felt the sloppy mess between her legs on my thighs as keenly as her enormous breasts between us.I was already stirring again when I lifted Beth from my bed and carried her to the wide tiled chamber of the house's master shower. We'd be spending a lot of time, here, it didn't seem proper not to introduce it to her fully.By Bitterjohnzim for Literotica

Sunlight streaked onto Ace's face Monday morning, the aftereffects of Sunday Funday still on his breath. The smell of bad whiskey and worse cigars lingered in the air. Bleary eyed, Ace glanced at his Samsung and noticed a series of notifications. Past due credit cards, ads for hair gel and a three day old text from his Aunt Mildred. But in the midst of this sea of digital distractions, Ace spied a new episode of Tales From the Bargain Bin perched in his pod player, waiting to be opened. A smile cracked his parched lips. Deju Vu on the NES. Good morning, indeed.Starring Michael K Hughes (@KaidanXain on Twitter)My Discord: https://discord.com/invite/SdaE4atGjCMy Twitter: @agamerlooksat40My Facebook: facebook.com/agamerlooksat40My Insta: @agamerlooksat40My Patreon: patreon.com/agamerlooksat40My Email: agamerlooksat40@gmail.comMy Phone Number: Ehhhhh, not gonna happen. :-D Support the show

John continued finding the depths of his neighbors. By Bitterjohnzim. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Beth crossed the dark guestroom and slapped me, snapping her hand across my left ear and cheek. I reeled away, half-falling to the bed. I caught her second swing, outlined, now, by the exterior lights. “Beth!” I exclaimed and she stopped straining to strike me. “What the hell are you doing?” [[MORE]] Initially, she was silent, struggling to pull her arm from my hand. We both heard the low drone of the shower in the bathroom and she hissed at me, “You were mine.” I pushed her away and flipped the light answitch by the veranda door. A lamp on either side of the bed flickered to life. In the low light of the guestroom, I knew how I would look, naked, muscular and hairy, cock still slick from congress with her daughter. Beth, a gorgeous brunette, was flush, her face red and the magnificent swell of her breasts heaving beneath a fitting tan top. Dark skinny jeans cupped her curves and legs, the outfit terminating functionally in dark tennis shoes “You're Tom's.” I stated simply, laying a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. A flash in her eyes- she was honestly angry, “We have an arrangement. Lacey, obviously, isn't a fucking part of it.” Shit. They were in an open marriage. She'd just been fucking around teasing me, before. Uh, until I put it to their daughter. “Beth, she's an adult, we had some fun, there's no reason to be tense, I'm just your friend.” I defended myself. Oh, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Beth jerked, and snagged my wavering dick. Twisting sharply, she demanded, “How are you my friend? We trusted you as a neighbor, I, might, have wanted to screw you, and I catch you fucking my daughter? Is that what friends do?” A moment after the sudden pain started, I wrapped a thick hand around Beth's throat and pushed her onto the bed. Her hand tightened until I squeezed her neck and both of her hands flew to my grip. The hot surge of adrenaline had me hard, and I momentarily felt the coarse denim of Beth's jeans beneath my cock. I was, now, choking a woman who had twisted my dick- after finding me nutting her daughter. What the fuck is my life? I pressed Beth into the bedding and she made, the single horniest noise I've ever heard from a woman. Somewhere between a groan and a purr, she glared at me through lusty eyes. Her breathing was fast and straining. Her flushed cheeks and expression rattled a memory of a deeply submissive former partner. I suddenly suspected Beth had been out on the twilight veranda longer than her surging, violent response implied. So, I did something insane. I didn't release her throat, but I did wrench her jeans down with my free hand. They slipped down her wide hips easily. The top buttons of her fly had been undone beneath the edge of her shirt. Beneath a tiny, lacey, tan thong, which peeled over her perfectly fat ass. As I pulled her dark skinny jeans to her knees. The weird declaration of ownership over me, the teasing, the disheveled jeans, and uncharacteristic transition to physical violence, the absurd intimacy of having sought to punish my statement by grabbing my cock, her body wavered between fury and lust; was utterly betrayed by the musk of her ardor and dripping mess of her bald pussy. Wordlessly; thoughtlessly, really; I stepped to the soft, exposed curve of her ass and ran the stone column of my erection over her cleft and clit. Her breath caught, her hands on my arm holding her by the throat drove long, perfectly manicured nails into my skin. I twisted my other hand in the knot of garments I held at her calves, soles of her tennis shoes held heavenward, restraining her entirely except for her hands. I pressed her legs back until her naked thighs were against her cream shirt, and her sopping pussy and ass were hoisted between us. Her eyes widened and I shifted her until my cock matched the entrance of her vulva. And, then, I pushed. Her body resisted, the membranes of her labia dragging harshly over the still-sticky skin of my cock, but I withdrew and pressed until the dampness of her own arousal slicked my passage, and I was slapping steadily into Beth. She released her painful grip from my arm and covered her face, grunting softly with pleasure and frustration each time my fat rod bottomed out entirely. I didn't just thrust, I hauled the mostly clothed woman to me as I drove and heaved her away as I withdrew. Her hairless, soaking cunt was, yet, unbelievably tight, gripping me obscenely as I used her roughly, soft ass and thighs rippled and bounced against the hairy muscles of my abdomen and groin. Beth trembled abruptly, hands grabbing at my left forearm, again. Her eyes were clamped closed and face caught in an ecstatic rictus. I wondered, briefly, as her pelvic floor twisted even tighter around my intruding mass, if she was as sensitive as her daughter, post-orgasm. I hugged her legs in my right arm and redoubled the pace. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth gaped in a ragged gasp. I ran my left hand up her neck, pressing a finger across her lips, shushing her with a meaningful tilt of my head towards the bathroom door, beyond which we could still hear Lacey showering. Then I twisted my fingers in her hair and began to slam-fuck Beth in earnest. In rough, rapid thrusts, I tried to put a seam across where I folded her legs against her chest, and a permanent claim to a gape in her cunt. The bed protested, but I ignored it's complaints as I ignored Beth's sharp grapple that slowly raised painful furrows across my back and up my shoulders. Sweat beaded across my body, Beth's wetness dripped off my balls. Her eyes were tightly shut, again, head twisted back by my fist in her brown locks. Her legs flailed and spasmed incessantly in my embrace, and I hunched tighter to avoid the sweep of her tennis shoes. Her pussy clenched and flexed in time with her panting breaths. My own breathing was hot at her throat. Purposefully, I drove myself on until the thought occurred to me; that I hadn't gotten to see those massive tits swinging as I rode her. Abruptly I could take no more, and was cumming, exhaling in restrained groans, back arching, and pouring into the woman beneath me. I released my hold on the hard-breathing milf's hair and momentarily collapsed. I felt fluid dripping between us. I hauled myself back upright, proud post slipping from her depths. I raised her slightly off the bed, watching the tremble in her legs and quiver of her holes slow and relax. The bedspread at the corner I had fucked her on was dark and our mix flowed freely down her tawny ass to join the stain. The effluence from her orifice subsided and I released her legs, dropping her on her side. Bleary eyed, she, nonetheless, reached down with the green and gold silk robe, still half twisted in her left hand, and wiped resolutely at her abused sex while carefully sitting up on the edge of the bed. I pulled my underwear and jeans on and tossed my cum-stained shirt onto the bed, deciding the bedspread was just going in the laundry, too. I knelt between Beth's spread knees, legs still trapped in the twisted knot of her jeans and panties. I cleaned stray droplets of sweat and cum from her bare thighs with a clean corner of the bedspread before deciding getting her jeans up was a lost cause and slipping her shoes, pants and undergarment gently off. Keen awareness of the importance of aftercare, and post-nut clarity of exactly how roughly I had handled her was suddenly forefront in my mind. Her eyes avoided mine, and she pointed to her pants as I ran the blanket one last time up her thighs. “My phone?” she supplicated. I produced it from her back pocket and handed the chrome and glass sliver to her. Immediately, she began sending a text. Concluding the silently generated communication, she stood. II followed suit, handing over her garments. Her body was close, her breasts just brushing my chest, but I was much taller, so even standing straight and proud, she didn't look me in the eyes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror: hair stringy with sweat, makeup a smudged ruin, mostly naked, for good measure. “Another bathroom, John? I don't think I want to speak with Lacey, now.” She admitted. The other guest room on the main floor was pretty bare bones, mostly used when I had a crowd passing through. “Is the master alright?” I offered. “Master would be fine.” We then heard the guest shower turned off. I led her quickly to the master bedroom, dominated by a dark four-post bed, and dimly lit by decorative sconces. Her phone chirped. As she addressed the message I turned on the light in the master bath and dressed in a clean shirt. Returning to the guest room, I stripped the bedspread and stuffed it, and my shirt, in a hamper. I found a similar, clean bedspread in the linen closet and made the bed. Glancing around, I found nothing particularly obvious to expose any of the evening's goings on, and slipped to the kitchen. I drew a couple handfuls of cold water at the sink and splashed my face, silently seeking absolution from any of this madness. Toweling the moisture from my hands, I stepped to the open veranda door and spotted my coffee cup on the patio table. Blessed alcohol and caffeine could fix this. They can fix anything. I drank the bitter mixture in one gulp, making a face. Stone cold, and not better for it. I turned back to face the open doors of my house, and, eventually, settled into the patio chair I had occupied earlier. There were crickets chirping in the hedges and grass; the night was still and overcast, now, holding on to a bit of the day's warmth. The guest room lights blinked off, and the thin blonde woman in a red halter top and cutoffs emerged, the door quietly clicking closed behind her. Guilty, sly smile on Lacey's pretty face, she crossed to where I sat. “That was awkward.” She rocked on her heels briefly, coltish legs flexing. “Mom seems kinda mad. Did she say anything to you?” I grinned, and replied; “She slapped the shit out of me and asked to use a different bathroom.” “She didn't, uh.” I waved her off, “Beth was mad.” I said. The righteous indignation that Lacey had displayed earlier flared a bit and the slender girl stood a little straighter, “It's none of her business what I do or who I do them with.” I shrugged, “I've been here since my grandparents passed away. Tom & Beth were their neighbors for decades before that. There's a bit of an expectation, as friendly as we are, that I'm supposed to be safe from being a creepy, old man around their little girl.” Lacey leaned close, “Little girl? I think I remember distinctly being the pursuer, old man.” She slid me a mostly chaste kiss and half-turned away. “We'll be more discreet next time. Maybe don't leave the door open?” “Next time?” The vision of this young woman, a decade and a half younger than me, flashed in my mind, and was subsumed by the other vision, a milf who's a decade and a half older than me, each with my hairy knuckles at their throat and ecstasy on their faces. I could feel a blush rising. “You weren't bad, old man.” Her voice trailed, and a last bright smile glowed as she vanished into the shadows of the yard. I didn't linger long. I took up the empty coffee cup and entered the kitchen, closing, and locking that door. I thought to just wait Beth out. The steak in my fridge called to me and my stomach complained. I checked my own phone where it was charging on the roll-top desk in the butler's pantry. Three unread texts. One was from Beth. It read, “Come back to the bedroom, please.” So, I did. Beth was on a black leather dressing bench at the foot of the bed, facing the open master bathroom door, typing away at her phone and still half-dressed. She had a sweater on, but her ass and legs were naked. Her pants, and panties were loosely folded atop her shoes by her feet. She'd removed the tiny scraps of cotton that passed for socks, too. She looked calm as she glanced up from her phone at my approach. She turned back to whatever she was typing and spread her toes out in the thick pile of the carpet. I stopped two paces away, a tall shadow in my own bedroom, wondering where this strange ride would stop. I started to ask if I could get her a drink, but stopped before the first syllable escaped. This was another game of control, from her. She was controlling the space by settling in, ignoring me, and ignoring the state I left her in. I stepped uncontestable close, my shadow cast from the bathroom light darkening her form entirely, and while my first impulse was to touch her hand holding her phone, instead, caressed the tangled hair at her right temple. She stopped breathing, stopped typing, and closed her eyes as I pushed stray brown locks behind her ear and softly spoke, “You haven't showered.” She didn't lean into my hand like a lover's caress, but instead calmly endured the touch. When I withdrew, her eyes opened and she stood, discarding the phone to the bench but still not meeting my eyes. Her breath hitched gently. “Your family will be waiting. Tom mentioned you have dinner plans.” There was something strange in the green eyes that turned up to meet mine, “I told Lacey I would talk to her about,  it, tomorrow. I had already planned with Tom to skip going out to dinner, unless I texted him when I came over here. I assumed you and I would find an arrangement.” Oh. Ooh. The woman was all in twists. Guess that explained the presence of that silk bathrobe, tonight. I laid a hand on her hip, half my fingers on the edge of the soft tan fabric of her sweater, the others on her naked flesh. “What arrangement were you seeking, Beth?” She shivered beneath my hand, “Not, that. That was intense. When I found you with Lacey, with her where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but watch a little.” She stepped to the side, not away, but out from my shadow. Her voice calmed, “It's hardly the first time I've caught one of my daughters being, intimate.” She paused and uttered a small huffed laugh, “Lacey, especially; but it was the first time I've found one of them with someone I wanted as my lover. So, I was turned on, a little, a lot, and hurt.” Beth laid a hand over mine, and guided it softly upwards to her waste and squeezed herself with my larger grip. “And, then, you took me,” she said, her voice falling low. God, help me, I was ready to, again. Her free hand pressed against my chest, she craned her head to whisper to me, “I felt everything you did to me and wanted to say no, but I just couldn't, between your hand on my throat and your cock beating the wind out of me. So, I just came instead.” Her fingers twisted in my belt loops, and she dragged my pants slowly, side to side over my struggling erection. “I haven't felt sex like that in years and I want more.” She confessed. I grunted to cover a growing moan and clear my throat. “What about Tom?” “Tom's the love of my life, but not interested much. He gets off on the stories I share, and has participated in a few memories, but after the girls were all born I wanted sex twice a day and he would rather have a cocktail and a nap.” Beth undid my fly and drew my stiffening cock from my boxer-briefs. “I'd appreciate if you kept things normal.” “Normal? What's your normal?“ “You know, you're friends with Tom; none of this needs to come up-” “No, I mean, you're pursuing pretty serious kink if you're asking me for repeats of tonight.” The idea of a consensual non-consent inclusive relationship with my older neighbor's wife was not how I thought this would turn out. My cock was steel in her soft hands. Her caresses were unstructured, her focus on our conversation. “I had friends into kinkier things, that I used to play with. They were members of our dinner club. They eventually moved or became uninterested; or are just isolated from the world until the pandemic passes.” My focus was entirely on the parts of the woman contacting my dick and the clerical necessity of the remaining details was abruptly interfering. “Safe word?” I requested. “Oh, yes, I have a great one,” she whispered it in my ear. Now, excited by the context of my question, she became a positive chatterbox, her voice soft and conspiritorial, “I love a little bondage, spanking, choking, fucking in public;” Right, the basic fun stuff, things your dinner club swinger friends get up to: I could work with that. I took her hands in mine, squeezing her caresses into steady strokes. I started my own teasing; “If I grab you while you're shopping for groceries and fuck you in the parking garage?” That got her horny eyes slitted and she jerked me steadily, “Are you going to do that?” she wanted to know. “If I pin you against the shower wall and fuck your ass until you can't stand?” I said as I pulled her close and pawed at her ass. Slowly, I worked a finger against her knot without pressing in, just teasing the twist of tissue. She bit her lower lip and sighed, “Are you going to fuck my ass, “daddy? ” I didn't answer right away but I took Beth by the shoulders and guided her back to where she had been sitting, gently pushing her back down to the dressing bench. I flexed and my cock gently bobbed before her face. I could feel her breath along its length. “No, I think “daddy” would be just fine. Hands on your knees.“ She gave a momentary, insatiably wicked grin before I was pressing closer to her face. Her lips parted into an accommodating "O” and she leaned forward primly. I pressed the fat head of my cock between her lips, the flicker of her tongue and heat of her mouth luring me forward. I pumped gently, just the glans popping in and out from the soft curl of Beth's hungry mouth. She slowly leaned forward, until I couldn't stand the passivity and my hands twisted again in her long brunette curls. I drew her to me, and away, slowly fucking her face into my rigid form. She grunted at the depth of my pull and gasped when I drew away from her. Her green eyes were locked on the violating shape, slathered in her spit, half lidded and fervent. I stood away and gently lifted at her shoulders, “Stand.” My spittle dampened cock ground against her sweater covered stomach, but I drew that up and over her head. She had a tan bra on, structurally significant and worthy of the prize it enshrined. I held her to my chest and unbuckled the troika of latches. Peeling the soft garment away, I leaned low, biting and nibbling her gorgeous tits. She grunted and pumped harshly at my sopping cock. I turned her, cupping her massive breasts and driving her over the bench. She collapsed forward, the cleft of her ass soft around my hard cock. Beth pushed herself up and hoisted herself to a steady presentation, and I bowed to the warmth of her womanhood. I could taste my own cum, still weeping from the slick lips of her vulva. I found her clit with my tongue and slipped fingers into her, first a knuckle, and then a few, and then I pressed into the hot, dark twist of her ass, always lingering on the tight, erective pearl, and knowing I was going to take more and more and more. Her orgasm was shuddering and gasping, her face against the foot of my bed, her body collapsing over the leather bench. I pulled my hands from her constricting heat, and kissed the pulsing wink of her ass. Her hands filled the void between her legs, petting at her burning sex. I crossed to a bedside table and flipped a light switch. The hard breathing form at the base of my bed was haloed in bright lights, and reflected in the massive mirrors overhead and at the headboard. I plucked a bottle of lube from the table's drawer. Beth was blinking against the bright lights, eyes unfocused as she found the vision of herself, naked, and bent at the foot of my bed, chest and cheeks flushed. I saw her watch the reflected length of my cock cross the mirror and square up behind her gasping body. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head into the blankets, the arch of her back sagging and turning her hips graciously towards me. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I watched her face in the mirror. She pressed back, the delicate flesh of her bald cunt slick against my dick. “Just put it in my pussy,” she asserted. “You're so big, just fuck me.” I grabbed her hand and filled it with lube. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I slipped my cock into her slippery fingers, “I haven't even kissed you but I'll have my dick in all of your slutty holes.” She moaned, her hand closed around my cock and pumped, smearing the lube wildly. “Do you like that, Beth? Do you like being a slut to a big cock?” Her eyes were closed, she purred, “Yes, ” “Yes?” I slipped a couple slick fingers into her, one into the opalescent gape of her cunt, and another roughly into the dark knot of her ass. Beth's eyes opened, “Yes, daddy.” I pumped my fingers in time to her hand jerking my cock, “Yes?” “I'm a slut for your big cock, daddy?” There was a fervor in her voice as it seemed to drop to a whine. “Where am I going to fuck you, slut?” “Fuck my ass, daddy.” I struck her wide, beautiful ass hard, a red handprint welt immediately rising, “Spread it and ask nicely.” Beth's hands, perfectly manicured, slick with lube, spread her fat ass cheeks wide, the tight twist of her body nuzzling the head of my length, “Please, fuck my ass, daddy?” She rolled her hips and the head of my cock slipped against her crack to the cleft of her cunt. Beth moaned and leaned back, I popped into her effortlessly. I couldn't resist, I let her buck on my cock a few minutes before leaning deep, feeling her hot, wet depths, driving her flat on the bed. But I was christening my new three whole whore, and I wrenched myself free of her molten pussy. My voice was raw, “Where?” Her face in the mirror was expressionless, and her voice a bare whisper, “Fuck my ass, daddy?” I lunged into her. I slipped into her, the muscles of her abdomen parting once and again and I was inside her. I took Beth's throat in my hands and hauled her upright while I did my best to split her from the bottom. She was, in the reflection above the headboard, flawless in my arms, her hands gripped at my forearms, her breath came in groaning blasts, my balls beat a steady pulse as I sodomized the gorgeous creature. I wrestled from her throat, where I could control the angle of her body and listen to her grunting reply, to the heavy breasts that swung so erotically when unrestrained from our animal coupling. I had either hand on her massive tits when I lunged with finality into her, every muscular burst into her depths echoed with my grunts and Beth's gasping moans. She went limp beneath me, and together we breathed deeply, my lips at her ear. I rolled her over, and took her in my arms, her body hot and damp against me, we kissed for the first time and I felt the sloppy mess between her legs on my thighs as keenly as her enormous breasts between us. I was already stirring again when I lifted Beth from my bed and carried her to the wide tiled chamber of the house's master shower. We'd be spending a lot of time, here, it didn't seem proper not to introduce it to her fully. By Bitterjohnzim for Literotica

John continued finding the depths of his neighbors. By Bitterjohnzim. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Beth crossed the dark guestroom and slapped me, snapping her hand across my left ear and cheek. I reeled away, half-falling to the bed. I caught her second swing, outlined, now, by the exterior lights. “Beth!” I exclaimed and she stopped straining to strike me. “What the hell are you doing?” [[MORE]] Initially, she was silent, struggling to pull her arm from my hand. We both heard the low drone of the shower in the bathroom and she hissed at me, “You were mine.” I pushed her away and flipped the light answitch by the veranda door. A lamp on either side of the bed flickered to life. In the low light of the guestroom, I knew how I would look, naked, muscular and hairy, cock still slick from congress with her daughter. Beth, a gorgeous brunette, was flush, her face red and the magnificent swell of her breasts heaving beneath a fitting tan top. Dark skinny jeans cupped her curves and legs, the outfit terminating functionally in dark tennis shoes “You're Tom's.” I stated simply, laying a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. A flash in her eyes- she was honestly angry, “We have an arrangement. Lacey, obviously, isn't a fucking part of it.” Shit. They were in an open marriage. She'd just been fucking around teasing me, before. Uh, until I put it to their daughter. “Beth, she's an adult, we had some fun, there's no reason to be tense, I'm just your friend.” I defended myself. Oh, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Beth jerked, and snagged my wavering dick. Twisting sharply, she demanded, “How are you my friend? We trusted you as a neighbor, I, might, have wanted to screw you, and I catch you fucking my daughter? Is that what friends do?” A moment after the sudden pain started, I wrapped a thick hand around Beth's throat and pushed her onto the bed. Her hand tightened until I squeezed her neck and both of her hands flew to my grip. The hot surge of adrenaline had me hard, and I momentarily felt the coarse denim of Beth's jeans beneath my cock. I was, now, choking a woman who had twisted my dick- after finding me nutting her daughter. What the fuck is my life? I pressed Beth into the bedding and she made, the single horniest noise I've ever heard from a woman. Somewhere between a groan and a purr, she glared at me through lusty eyes. Her breathing was fast and straining. Her flushed cheeks and expression rattled a memory of a deeply submissive former partner. I suddenly suspected Beth had been out on the twilight veranda longer than her surging, violent response implied. So, I did something insane. I didn't release her throat, but I did wrench her jeans down with my free hand. They slipped down her wide hips easily. The top buttons of her fly had been undone beneath the edge of her shirt. Beneath a tiny, lacey, tan thong, which peeled over her perfectly fat ass. As I pulled her dark skinny jeans to her knees. The weird declaration of ownership over me, the teasing, the disheveled jeans, and uncharacteristic transition to physical violence, the absurd intimacy of having sought to punish my statement by grabbing my cock, her body wavered between fury and lust; was utterly betrayed by the musk of her ardor and dripping mess of her bald pussy. Wordlessly; thoughtlessly, really; I stepped to the soft, exposed curve of her ass and ran the stone column of my erection over her cleft and clit. Her breath caught, her hands on my arm holding her by the throat drove long, perfectly manicured nails into my skin. I twisted my other hand in the knot of garments I held at her calves, soles of her tennis shoes held heavenward, restraining her entirely except for her hands. I pressed her legs back until her naked thighs were against her cream shirt, and her sopping pussy and ass were hoisted between us. Her eyes widened and I shifted her until my cock matched the entrance of her vulva. And, then, I pushed. Her body resisted, the membranes of her labia dragging harshly over the still-sticky skin of my cock, but I withdrew and pressed until the dampness of her own arousal slicked my passage, and I was slapping steadily into Beth. She released her painful grip from my arm and covered her face, grunting softly with pleasure and frustration each time my fat rod bottomed out entirely. I didn't just thrust, I hauled the mostly clothed woman to me as I drove and heaved her away as I withdrew. Her hairless, soaking cunt was, yet, unbelievably tight, gripping me obscenely as I used her roughly, soft ass and thighs rippled and bounced against the hairy muscles of my abdomen and groin. Beth trembled abruptly, hands grabbing at my left forearm, again. Her eyes were clamped closed and face caught in an ecstatic rictus. I wondered, briefly, as her pelvic floor twisted even tighter around my intruding mass, if she was as sensitive as her daughter, post-orgasm. I hugged her legs in my right arm and redoubled the pace. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth gaped in a ragged gasp. I ran my left hand up her neck, pressing a finger across her lips, shushing her with a meaningful tilt of my head towards the bathroom door, beyond which we could still hear Lacey showering. Then I twisted my fingers in her hair and began to slam-fuck Beth in earnest. In rough, rapid thrusts, I tried to put a seam across where I folded her legs against her chest, and a permanent claim to a gape in her cunt. The bed protested, but I ignored it's complaints as I ignored Beth's sharp grapple that slowly raised painful furrows across my back and up my shoulders. Sweat beaded across my body, Beth's wetness dripped off my balls. Her eyes were tightly shut, again, head twisted back by my fist in her brown locks. Her legs flailed and spasmed incessantly in my embrace, and I hunched tighter to avoid the sweep of her tennis shoes. Her pussy clenched and flexed in time with her panting breaths. My own breathing was hot at her throat. Purposefully, I drove myself on until the thought occurred to me; that I hadn't gotten to see those massive tits swinging as I rode her. Abruptly I could take no more, and was cumming, exhaling in restrained groans, back arching, and pouring into the woman beneath me. I released my hold on the hard-breathing milf's hair and momentarily collapsed. I felt fluid dripping between us. I hauled myself back upright, proud post slipping from her depths. I raised her slightly off the bed, watching the tremble in her legs and quiver of her holes slow and relax. The bedspread at the corner I had fucked her on was dark and our mix flowed freely down her tawny ass to join the stain. The effluence from her orifice subsided and I released her legs, dropping her on her side. Bleary eyed, she, nonetheless, reached down with the green and gold silk robe, still half twisted in her left hand, and wiped resolutely at her abused sex while carefully sitting up on the edge of the bed. I pulled my underwear and jeans on and tossed my cum-stained shirt onto the bed, deciding the bedspread was just going in the laundry, too. I knelt between Beth's spread knees, legs still trapped in the twisted knot of her jeans and panties. I cleaned stray droplets of sweat and cum from her bare thighs with a clean corner of the bedspread before deciding getting her jeans up was a lost cause and slipping her shoes, pants and undergarment gently off. Keen awareness of the importance of aftercare, and post-nut clarity of exactly how roughly I had handled her was suddenly forefront in my mind. Her eyes avoided mine, and she pointed to her pants as I ran the blanket one last time up her thighs. “My phone?” she supplicated. I produced it from her back pocket and handed the chrome and glass sliver to her. Immediately, she began sending a text. Concluding the silently generated communication, she stood. II followed suit, handing over her garments. Her body was close, her breasts just brushing my chest, but I was much taller, so even standing straight and proud, she didn't look me in the eyes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror: hair stringy with sweat, makeup a smudged ruin, mostly naked, for good measure. “Another bathroom, John? I don't think I want to speak with Lacey, now.” She admitted. The other guest room on the main floor was pretty bare bones, mostly used when I had a crowd passing through. “Is the master alright?” I offered. “Master would be fine.” We then heard the guest shower turned off. I led her quickly to the master bedroom, dominated by a dark four-post bed, and dimly lit by decorative sconces. Her phone chirped. As she addressed the message I turned on the light in the master bath and dressed in a clean shirt. Returning to the guest room, I stripped the bedspread and stuffed it, and my shirt, in a hamper. I found a similar, clean bedspread in the linen closet and made the bed. Glancing around, I found nothing particularly obvious to expose any of the evening's goings on, and slipped to the kitchen. I drew a couple handfuls of cold water at the sink and splashed my face, silently seeking absolution from any of this madness. Toweling the moisture from my hands, I stepped to the open veranda door and spotted my coffee cup on the patio table. Blessed alcohol and caffeine could fix this. They can fix anything. I drank the bitter mixture in one gulp, making a face. Stone cold, and not better for it. I turned back to face the open doors of my house, and, eventually, settled into the patio chair I had occupied earlier. There were crickets chirping in the hedges and grass; the night was still and overcast, now, holding on to a bit of the day's warmth. The guest room lights blinked off, and the thin blonde woman in a red halter top and cutoffs emerged, the door quietly clicking closed behind her. Guilty, sly smile on Lacey's pretty face, she crossed to where I sat. “That was awkward.” She rocked on her heels briefly, coltish legs flexing. “Mom seems kinda mad. Did she say anything to you?” I grinned, and replied; “She slapped the shit out of me and asked to use a different bathroom.” “She didn't, uh.” I waved her off, “Beth was mad.” I said. The righteous indignation that Lacey had displayed earlier flared a bit and the slender girl stood a little straighter, “It's none of her business what I do or who I do them with.” I shrugged, “I've been here since my grandparents passed away. Tom & Beth were their neighbors for decades before that. There's a bit of an expectation, as friendly as we are, that I'm supposed to be safe from being a creepy, old man around their little girl.” Lacey leaned close, “Little girl? I think I remember distinctly being the pursuer, old man.” She slid me a mostly chaste kiss and half-turned away. “We'll be more discreet next time. Maybe don't leave the door open?” “Next time?” The vision of this young woman, a decade and a half younger than me, flashed in my mind, and was subsumed by the other vision, a milf who's a decade and a half older than me, each with my hairy knuckles at their throat and ecstasy on their faces. I could feel a blush rising. “You weren't bad, old man.” Her voice trailed, and a last bright smile glowed as she vanished into the shadows of the yard. I didn't linger long. I took up the empty coffee cup and entered the kitchen, closing, and locking that door. I thought to just wait Beth out. The steak in my fridge called to me and my stomach complained. I checked my own phone where it was charging on the roll-top desk in the butler's pantry. Three unread texts. One was from Beth. It read, “Come back to the bedroom, please.” So, I did. Beth was on a black leather dressing bench at the foot of the bed, facing the open master bathroom door, typing away at her phone and still half-dressed. She had a sweater on, but her ass and legs were naked. Her pants, and panties were loosely folded atop her shoes by her feet. She'd removed the tiny scraps of cotton that passed for socks, too. She looked calm as she glanced up from her phone at my approach. She turned back to whatever she was typing and spread her toes out in the thick pile of the carpet. I stopped two paces away, a tall shadow in my own bedroom, wondering where this strange ride would stop. I started to ask if I could get her a drink, but stopped before the first syllable escaped. This was another game of control, from her. She was controlling the space by settling in, ignoring me, and ignoring the state I left her in. I stepped uncontestable close, my shadow cast from the bathroom light darkening her form entirely, and while my first impulse was to touch her hand holding her phone, instead, caressed the tangled hair at her right temple. She stopped breathing, stopped typing, and closed her eyes as I pushed stray brown locks behind her ear and softly spoke, “You haven't showered.” She didn't lean into my hand like a lover's caress, but instead calmly endured the touch. When I withdrew, her eyes opened and she stood, discarding the phone to the bench but still not meeting my eyes. Her breath hitched gently. “Your family will be waiting. Tom mentioned you have dinner plans.” There was something strange in the green eyes that turned up to meet mine, “I told Lacey I would talk to her about,  it, tomorrow. I had already planned with Tom to skip going out to dinner, unless I texted him when I came over here. I assumed you and I would find an arrangement.” Oh. Ooh. The woman was all in twists. Guess that explained the presence of that silk bathrobe, tonight. I laid a hand on her hip, half my fingers on the edge of the soft tan fabric of her sweater, the others on her naked flesh. “What arrangement were you seeking, Beth?” She shivered beneath my hand, “Not, that. That was intense. When I found you with Lacey, with her where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but watch a little.” She stepped to the side, not away, but out from my shadow. Her voice calmed, “It's hardly the first time I've caught one of my daughters being, intimate.” She paused and uttered a small huffed laugh, “Lacey, especially; but it was the first time I've found one of them with someone I wanted as my lover. So, I was turned on, a little, a lot, and hurt.” Beth laid a hand over mine, and guided it softly upwards to her waste and squeezed herself with my larger grip. “And, then, you took me,” she said, her voice falling low. God, help me, I was ready to, again. Her free hand pressed against my chest, she craned her head to whisper to me, “I felt everything you did to me and wanted to say no, but I just couldn't, between your hand on my throat and your cock beating the wind out of me. So, I just came instead.” Her fingers twisted in my belt loops, and she dragged my pants slowly, side to side over my struggling erection. “I haven't felt sex like that in years and I want more.” She confessed. I grunted to cover a growing moan and clear my throat. “What about Tom?” “Tom's the love of my life, but not interested much. He gets off on the stories I share, and has participated in a few memories, but after the girls were all born I wanted sex twice a day and he would rather have a cocktail and a nap.” Beth undid my fly and drew my stiffening cock from my boxer-briefs. “I'd appreciate if you kept things normal.” “Normal? What's your normal?“ “You know, you're friends with Tom; none of this needs to come up-” “No, I mean, you're pursuing pretty serious kink if you're asking me for repeats of tonight.” The idea of a consensual non-consent inclusive relationship with my older neighbor's wife was not how I thought this would turn out. My cock was steel in her soft hands. Her caresses were unstructured, her focus on our conversation. “I had friends into kinkier things, that I used to play with. They were members of our dinner club. They eventually moved or became uninterested; or are just isolated from the world until the pandemic passes.” My focus was entirely on the parts of the woman contacting my dick and the clerical necessity of the remaining details was abruptly interfering. “Safe word?” I requested. “Oh, yes, I have a great one,” she whispered it in my ear. Now, excited by the context of my question, she became a positive chatterbox, her voice soft and conspiritorial, “I love a little bondage, spanking, choking, fucking in public;” Right, the basic fun stuff, things your dinner club swinger friends get up to: I could work with that. I took her hands in mine, squeezing her caresses into steady strokes. I started my own teasing; “If I grab you while you're shopping for groceries and fuck you in the parking garage?” That got her horny eyes slitted and she jerked me steadily, “Are you going to do that?” she wanted to know. “If I pin you against the shower wall and fuck your ass until you can't stand?” I said as I pulled her close and pawed at her ass. Slowly, I worked a finger against her knot without pressing in, just teasing the twist of tissue. She bit her lower lip and sighed, “Are you going to fuck my ass, “daddy? ” I didn't answer right away but I took Beth by the shoulders and guided her back to where she had been sitting, gently pushing her back down to the dressing bench. I flexed and my cock gently bobbed before her face. I could feel her breath along its length. “No, I think “daddy” would be just fine. Hands on your knees.“ She gave a momentary, insatiably wicked grin before I was pressing closer to her face. Her lips parted into an accommodating "O” and she leaned forward primly. I pressed the fat head of my cock between her lips, the flicker of her tongue and heat of her mouth luring me forward. I pumped gently, just the glans popping in and out from the soft curl of Beth's hungry mouth. She slowly leaned forward, until I couldn't stand the passivity and my hands twisted again in her long brunette curls. I drew her to me, and away, slowly fucking her face into my rigid form. She grunted at the depth of my pull and gasped when I drew away from her. Her green eyes were locked on the violating shape, slathered in her spit, half lidded and fervent. I stood away and gently lifted at her shoulders, “Stand.” My spittle dampened cock ground against her sweater covered stomach, but I drew that up and over her head. She had a tan bra on, structurally significant and worthy of the prize it enshrined. I held her to my chest and unbuckled the troika of latches. Peeling the soft garment away, I leaned low, biting and nibbling her gorgeous tits. She grunted and pumped harshly at my sopping cock. I turned her, cupping her massive breasts and driving her over the bench. She collapsed forward, the cleft of her ass soft around my hard cock. Beth pushed herself up and hoisted herself to a steady presentation, and I bowed to the warmth of her womanhood. I could taste my own cum, still weeping from the slick lips of her vulva. I found her clit with my tongue and slipped fingers into her, first a knuckle, and then a few, and then I pressed into the hot, dark twist of her ass, always lingering on the tight, erective pearl, and knowing I was going to take more and more and more. Her orgasm was shuddering and gasping, her face against the foot of my bed, her body collapsing over the leather bench. I pulled my hands from her constricting heat, and kissed the pulsing wink of her ass. Her hands filled the void between her legs, petting at her burning sex. I crossed to a bedside table and flipped a light switch. The hard breathing form at the base of my bed was haloed in bright lights, and reflected in the massive mirrors overhead and at the headboard. I plucked a bottle of lube from the table's drawer. Beth was blinking against the bright lights, eyes unfocused as she found the vision of herself, naked, and bent at the foot of my bed, chest and cheeks flushed. I saw her watch the reflected length of my cock cross the mirror and square up behind her gasping body. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head into the blankets, the arch of her back sagging and turning her hips graciously towards me. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I watched her face in the mirror. She pressed back, the delicate flesh of her bald cunt slick against my dick. “Just put it in my pussy,” she asserted. “You're so big, just fuck me.” I grabbed her hand and filled it with lube. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I slipped my cock into her slippery fingers, “I haven't even kissed you but I'll have my dick in all of your slutty holes.” She moaned, her hand closed around my cock and pumped, smearing the lube wildly. “Do you like that, Beth? Do you like being a slut to a big cock?” Her eyes were closed, she purred, “Yes, ” “Yes?” I slipped a couple slick fingers into her, one into the opalescent gape of her cunt, and another roughly into the dark knot of her ass. Beth's eyes opened, “Yes, daddy.” I pumped my fingers in time to her hand jerking my cock, “Yes?” “I'm a slut for your big cock, daddy?” There was a fervor in her voice as it seemed to drop to a whine. “Where am I going to fuck you, slut?” “Fuck my ass, daddy.” I struck her wide, beautiful ass hard, a red handprint welt immediately rising, “Spread it and ask nicely.” Beth's hands, perfectly manicured, slick with lube, spread her fat ass cheeks wide, the tight twist of her body nuzzling the head of my length, “Please, fuck my ass, daddy?” She rolled her hips and the head of my cock slipped against her crack to the cleft of her cunt. Beth moaned and leaned back, I popped into her effortlessly. I couldn't resist, I let her buck on my cock a few minutes before leaning deep, feeling her hot, wet depths, driving her flat on the bed. But I was christening my new three whole whore, and I wrenched myself free of her molten pussy. My voice was raw, “Where?” Her face in the mirror was expressionless, and her voice a bare whisper, “Fuck my ass, daddy?” I lunged into her. I slipped into her, the muscles of her abdomen parting once and again and I was inside her. I took Beth's throat in my hands and hauled her upright while I did my best to split her from the bottom. She was, in the reflection above the headboard, flawless in my arms, her hands gripped at my forearms, her breath came in groaning blasts, my balls beat a steady pulse as I sodomized the gorgeous creature. I wrestled from her throat, where I could control the angle of her body and listen to her grunting reply, to the heavy breasts that swung so erotically when unrestrained from our animal coupling. I had either hand on her massive tits when I lunged with finality into her, every muscular burst into her depths echoed with my grunts and Beth's gasping moans. She went limp beneath me, and together we breathed deeply, my lips at her ear. I rolled her over, and took her in my arms, her body hot and damp against me, we kissed for the first time and I felt the sloppy mess between her legs on my thighs as keenly as her enormous breasts between us. I was already stirring again when I lifted Beth from my bed and carried her to the wide tiled chamber of the house's master shower. We'd be spending a lot of time, here, it didn't seem proper not to introduce it to her fully. By Bitterjohnzim for Literotica

John continued finding the depths of his neighbors. By Bitterjohnzim. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Beth crossed the dark guestroom and slapped me, snapping her hand across my left ear and cheek. I reeled away, half-falling to the bed. I caught her second swing, outlined, now, by the exterior lights. “Beth!” I exclaimed and she stopped straining to strike me. “What the hell are you doing?” [[MORE]] Initially, she was silent, struggling to pull her arm from my hand. We both heard the low drone of the shower in the bathroom and she hissed at me, “You were mine.” I pushed her away and flipped the light answitch by the veranda door. A lamp on either side of the bed flickered to life. In the low light of the guestroom, I knew how I would look, naked, muscular and hairy, cock still slick from congress with her daughter. Beth, a gorgeous brunette, was flush, her face red and the magnificent swell of her breasts heaving beneath a fitting tan top. Dark skinny jeans cupped her curves and legs, the outfit terminating functionally in dark tennis shoes “You're Tom's.” I stated simply, laying a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. A flash in her eyes- she was honestly angry, “We have an arrangement. Lacey, obviously, isn't a fucking part of it.” Shit. They were in an open marriage. She'd just been fucking around teasing me, before. Uh, until I put it to their daughter. “Beth, she's an adult, we had some fun, there's no reason to be tense, I'm just your friend.” I defended myself. Oh, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Beth jerked, and snagged my wavering dick. Twisting sharply, she demanded, “How are you my friend? We trusted you as a neighbor, I, might, have wanted to screw you, and I catch you fucking my daughter? Is that what friends do?” A moment after the sudden pain started, I wrapped a thick hand around Beth's throat and pushed her onto the bed. Her hand tightened until I squeezed her neck and both of her hands flew to my grip. The hot surge of adrenaline had me hard, and I momentarily felt the coarse denim of Beth's jeans beneath my cock. I was, now, choking a woman who had twisted my dick- after finding me nutting her daughter. What the fuck is my life? I pressed Beth into the bedding and she made, the single horniest noise I've ever heard from a woman. Somewhere between a groan and a purr, she glared at me through lusty eyes. Her breathing was fast and straining. Her flushed cheeks and expression rattled a memory of a deeply submissive former partner. I suddenly suspected Beth had been out on the twilight veranda longer than her surging, violent response implied. So, I did something insane. I didn't release her throat, but I did wrench her jeans down with my free hand. They slipped down her wide hips easily. The top buttons of her fly had been undone beneath the edge of her shirt. Beneath a tiny, lacey, tan thong, which peeled over her perfectly fat ass. As I pulled her dark skinny jeans to her knees. The weird declaration of ownership over me, the teasing, the disheveled jeans, and uncharacteristic transition to physical violence, the absurd intimacy of having sought to punish my statement by grabbing my cock, her body wavered between fury and lust; was utterly betrayed by the musk of her ardor and dripping mess of her bald pussy. Wordlessly; thoughtlessly, really; I stepped to the soft, exposed curve of her ass and ran the stone column of my erection over her cleft and clit. Her breath caught, her hands on my arm holding her by the throat drove long, perfectly manicured nails into my skin. I twisted my other hand in the knot of garments I held at her calves, soles of her tennis shoes held heavenward, restraining her entirely except for her hands. I pressed her legs back until her naked thighs were against her cream shirt, and her sopping pussy and ass were hoisted between us. Her eyes widened and I shifted her until my cock matched the entrance of her vulva. And, then, I pushed. Her body resisted, the membranes of her labia dragging harshly over the still-sticky skin of my cock, but I withdrew and pressed until the dampness of her own arousal slicked my passage, and I was slapping steadily into Beth. She released her painful grip from my arm and covered her face, grunting softly with pleasure and frustration each time my fat rod bottomed out entirely. I didn't just thrust, I hauled the mostly clothed woman to me as I drove and heaved her away as I withdrew. Her hairless, soaking cunt was, yet, unbelievably tight, gripping me obscenely as I used her roughly, soft ass and thighs rippled and bounced against the hairy muscles of my abdomen and groin. Beth trembled abruptly, hands grabbing at my left forearm, again. Her eyes were clamped closed and face caught in an ecstatic rictus. I wondered, briefly, as her pelvic floor twisted even tighter around my intruding mass, if she was as sensitive as her daughter, post-orgasm. I hugged her legs in my right arm and redoubled the pace. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth gaped in a ragged gasp. I ran my left hand up her neck, pressing a finger across her lips, shushing her with a meaningful tilt of my head towards the bathroom door, beyond which we could still hear Lacey showering. Then I twisted my fingers in her hair and began to slam-fuck Beth in earnest. In rough, rapid thrusts, I tried to put a seam across where I folded her legs against her chest, and a permanent claim to a gape in her cunt. The bed protested, but I ignored it's complaints as I ignored Beth's sharp grapple that slowly raised painful furrows across my back and up my shoulders. Sweat beaded across my body, Beth's wetness dripped off my balls. Her eyes were tightly shut, again, head twisted back by my fist in her brown locks. Her legs flailed and spasmed incessantly in my embrace, and I hunched tighter to avoid the sweep of her tennis shoes. Her pussy clenched and flexed in time with her panting breaths. My own breathing was hot at her throat. Purposefully, I drove myself on until the thought occurred to me; that I hadn't gotten to see those massive tits swinging as I rode her. Abruptly I could take no more, and was cumming, exhaling in restrained groans, back arching, and pouring into the woman beneath me. I released my hold on the hard-breathing milf's hair and momentarily collapsed. I felt fluid dripping between us. I hauled myself back upright, proud post slipping from her depths. I raised her slightly off the bed, watching the tremble in her legs and quiver of her holes slow and relax. The bedspread at the corner I had fucked her on was dark and our mix flowed freely down her tawny ass to join the stain. The effluence from her orifice subsided and I released her legs, dropping her on her side. Bleary eyed, she, nonetheless, reached down with the green and gold silk robe, still half twisted in her left hand, and wiped resolutely at her abused sex while carefully sitting up on the edge of the bed. I pulled my underwear and jeans on and tossed my cum-stained shirt onto the bed, deciding the bedspread was just going in the laundry, too. I knelt between Beth's spread knees, legs still trapped in the twisted knot of her jeans and panties. I cleaned stray droplets of sweat and cum from her bare thighs with a clean corner of the bedspread before deciding getting her jeans up was a lost cause and slipping her shoes, pants and undergarment gently off. Keen awareness of the importance of aftercare, and post-nut clarity of exactly how roughly I had handled her was suddenly forefront in my mind. Her eyes avoided mine, and she pointed to her pants as I ran the blanket one last time up her thighs. “My phone?” she supplicated. I produced it from her back pocket and handed the chrome and glass sliver to her. Immediately, she began sending a text. Concluding the silently generated communication, she stood. II followed suit, handing over her garments. Her body was close, her breasts just brushing my chest, but I was much taller, so even standing straight and proud, she didn't look me in the eyes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror: hair stringy with sweat, makeup a smudged ruin, mostly naked, for good measure. “Another bathroom, John? I don't think I want to speak with Lacey, now.” She admitted. The other guest room on the main floor was pretty bare bones, mostly used when I had a crowd passing through. “Is the master alright?” I offered. “Master would be fine.” We then heard the guest shower turned off. I led her quickly to the master bedroom, dominated by a dark four-post bed, and dimly lit by decorative sconces. Her phone chirped. As she addressed the message I turned on the light in the master bath and dressed in a clean shirt. Returning to the guest room, I stripped the bedspread and stuffed it, and my shirt, in a hamper. I found a similar, clean bedspread in the linen closet and made the bed. Glancing around, I found nothing particularly obvious to expose any of the evening's goings on, and slipped to the kitchen. I drew a couple handfuls of cold water at the sink and splashed my face, silently seeking absolution from any of this madness. Toweling the moisture from my hands, I stepped to the open veranda door and spotted my coffee cup on the patio table. Blessed alcohol and caffeine could fix this. They can fix anything. I drank the bitter mixture in one gulp, making a face. Stone cold, and not better for it. I turned back to face the open doors of my house, and, eventually, settled into the patio chair I had occupied earlier. There were crickets chirping in the hedges and grass; the night was still and overcast, now, holding on to a bit of the day's warmth. The guest room lights blinked off, and the thin blonde woman in a red halter top and cutoffs emerged, the door quietly clicking closed behind her. Guilty, sly smile on Lacey's pretty face, she crossed to where I sat. “That was awkward.” She rocked on her heels briefly, coltish legs flexing. “Mom seems kinda mad. Did she say anything to you?” I grinned, and replied; “She slapped the shit out of me and asked to use a different bathroom.” “She didn't, uh.” I waved her off, “Beth was mad.” I said. The righteous indignation that Lacey had displayed earlier flared a bit and the slender girl stood a little straighter, “It's none of her business what I do or who I do them with.” I shrugged, “I've been here since my grandparents passed away. Tom & Beth were their neighbors for decades before that. There's a bit of an expectation, as friendly as we are, that I'm supposed to be safe from being a creepy, old man around their little girl.” Lacey leaned close, “Little girl? I think I remember distinctly being the pursuer, old man.” She slid me a mostly chaste kiss and half-turned away. “We'll be more discreet next time. Maybe don't leave the door open?” “Next time?” The vision of this young woman, a decade and a half younger than me, flashed in my mind, and was subsumed by the other vision, a milf who's a decade and a half older than me, each with my hairy knuckles at their throat and ecstasy on their faces. I could feel a blush rising. “You weren't bad, old man.” Her voice trailed, and a last bright smile glowed as she vanished into the shadows of the yard. I didn't linger long. I took up the empty coffee cup and entered the kitchen, closing, and locking that door. I thought to just wait Beth out. The steak in my fridge called to me and my stomach complained. I checked my own phone where it was charging on the roll-top desk in the butler's pantry. Three unread texts. One was from Beth. It read, “Come back to the bedroom, please.” So, I did. Beth was on a black leather dressing bench at the foot of the bed, facing the open master bathroom door, typing away at her phone and still half-dressed. She had a sweater on, but her ass and legs were naked. Her pants, and panties were loosely folded atop her shoes by her feet. She'd removed the tiny scraps of cotton that passed for socks, too. She looked calm as she glanced up from her phone at my approach. She turned back to whatever she was typing and spread her toes out in the thick pile of the carpet. I stopped two paces away, a tall shadow in my own bedroom, wondering where this strange ride would stop. I started to ask if I could get her a drink, but stopped before the first syllable escaped. This was another game of control, from her. She was controlling the space by settling in, ignoring me, and ignoring the state I left her in. I stepped uncontestable close, my shadow cast from the bathroom light darkening her form entirely, and while my first impulse was to touch her hand holding her phone, instead, caressed the tangled hair at her right temple. She stopped breathing, stopped typing, and closed her eyes as I pushed stray brown locks behind her ear and softly spoke, “You haven't showered.” She didn't lean into my hand like a lover's caress, but instead calmly endured the touch. When I withdrew, her eyes opened and she stood, discarding the phone to the bench but still not meeting my eyes. Her breath hitched gently. “Your family will be waiting. Tom mentioned you have dinner plans.” There was something strange in the green eyes that turned up to meet mine, “I told Lacey I would talk to her about,  it, tomorrow. I had already planned with Tom to skip going out to dinner, unless I texted him when I came over here. I assumed you and I would find an arrangement.” Oh. Ooh. The woman was all in twists. Guess that explained the presence of that silk bathrobe, tonight. I laid a hand on her hip, half my fingers on the edge of the soft tan fabric of her sweater, the others on her naked flesh. “What arrangement were you seeking, Beth?” She shivered beneath my hand, “Not, that. That was intense. When I found you with Lacey, with her where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but watch a little.” She stepped to the side, not away, but out from my shadow. Her voice calmed, “It's hardly the first time I've caught one of my daughters being, intimate.” She paused and uttered a small huffed laugh, “Lacey, especially; but it was the first time I've found one of them with someone I wanted as my lover. So, I was turned on, a little, a lot, and hurt.” Beth laid a hand over mine, and guided it softly upwards to her waste and squeezed herself with my larger grip. “And, then, you took me,” she said, her voice falling low. God, help me, I was ready to, again. Her free hand pressed against my chest, she craned her head to whisper to me, “I felt everything you did to me and wanted to say no, but I just couldn't, between your hand on my throat and your cock beating the wind out of me. So, I just came instead.” Her fingers twisted in my belt loops, and she dragged my pants slowly, side to side over my struggling erection. “I haven't felt sex like that in years and I want more.” She confessed. I grunted to cover a growing moan and clear my throat. “What about Tom?” “Tom's the love of my life, but not interested much. He gets off on the stories I share, and has participated in a few memories, but after the girls were all born I wanted sex twice a day and he would rather have a cocktail and a nap.” Beth undid my fly and drew my stiffening cock from my boxer-briefs. “I'd appreciate if you kept things normal.” “Normal? What's your normal?“ “You know, you're friends with Tom; none of this needs to come up-” “No, I mean, you're pursuing pretty serious kink if you're asking me for repeats of tonight.” The idea of a consensual non-consent inclusive relationship with my older neighbor's wife was not how I thought this would turn out. My cock was steel in her soft hands. Her caresses were unstructured, her focus on our conversation. “I had friends into kinkier things, that I used to play with. They were members of our dinner club. They eventually moved or became uninterested; or are just isolated from the world until the pandemic passes.” My focus was entirely on the parts of the woman contacting my dick and the clerical necessity of the remaining details was abruptly interfering. “Safe word?” I requested. “Oh, yes, I have a great one,” she whispered it in my ear. Now, excited by the context of my question, she became a positive chatterbox, her voice soft and conspiritorial, “I love a little bondage, spanking, choking, fucking in public;” Right, the basic fun stuff, things your dinner club swinger friends get up to: I could work with that. I took her hands in mine, squeezing her caresses into steady strokes. I started my own teasing; “If I grab you while you're shopping for groceries and fuck you in the parking garage?” That got her horny eyes slitted and she jerked me steadily, “Are you going to do that?” she wanted to know. “If I pin you against the shower wall and fuck your ass until you can't stand?” I said as I pulled her close and pawed at her ass. Slowly, I worked a finger against her knot without pressing in, just teasing the twist of tissue. She bit her lower lip and sighed, “Are you going to fuck my ass, “daddy? ” I didn't answer right away but I took Beth by the shoulders and guided her back to where she had been sitting, gently pushing her back down to the dressing bench. I flexed and my cock gently bobbed before her face. I could feel her breath along its length. “No, I think “daddy” would be just fine. Hands on your knees.“ She gave a momentary, insatiably wicked grin before I was pressing closer to her face. Her lips parted into an accommodating "O” and she leaned forward primly. I pressed the fat head of my cock between her lips, the flicker of her tongue and heat of her mouth luring me forward. I pumped gently, just the glans popping in and out from the soft curl of Beth's hungry mouth. She slowly leaned forward, until I couldn't stand the passivity and my hands twisted again in her long brunette curls. I drew her to me, and away, slowly fucking her face into my rigid form. She grunted at the depth of my pull and gasped when I drew away from her. Her green eyes were locked on the violating shape, slathered in her spit, half lidded and fervent. I stood away and gently lifted at her shoulders, “Stand.” My spittle dampened cock ground against her sweater covered stomach, but I drew that up and over her head. She had a tan bra on, structurally significant and worthy of the prize it enshrined. I held her to my chest and unbuckled the troika of latches. Peeling the soft garment away, I leaned low, biting and nibbling her gorgeous tits. She grunted and pumped harshly at my sopping cock. I turned her, cupping her massive breasts and driving her over the bench. She collapsed forward, the cleft of her ass soft around my hard cock. Beth pushed herself up and hoisted herself to a steady presentation, and I bowed to the warmth of her womanhood. I could taste my own cum, still weeping from the slick lips of her vulva. I found her clit with my tongue and slipped fingers into her, first a knuckle, and then a few, and then I pressed into the hot, dark twist of her ass, always lingering on the tight, erective pearl, and knowing I was going to take more and more and more. Her orgasm was shuddering and gasping, her face against the foot of my bed, her body collapsing over the leather bench. I pulled my hands from her constricting heat, and kissed the pulsing wink of her ass. Her hands filled the void between her legs, petting at her burning sex. I crossed to a bedside table and flipped a light switch. The hard breathing form at the base of my bed was haloed in bright lights, and reflected in the massive mirrors overhead and at the headboard. I plucked a bottle of lube from the table's drawer. Beth was blinking against the bright lights, eyes unfocused as she found the vision of herself, naked, and bent at the foot of my bed, chest and cheeks flushed. I saw her watch the reflected length of my cock cross the mirror and square up behind her gasping body. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head into the blankets, the arch of her back sagging and turning her hips graciously towards me. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I watched her face in the mirror. She pressed back, the delicate flesh of her bald cunt slick against my dick. “Just put it in my pussy,” she asserted. “You're so big, just fuck me.” I grabbed her hand and filled it with lube. “I'm going to fuck your ass, Beth.” I slipped my cock into her slippery fingers, “I haven't even kissed you but I'll have my dick in all of your slutty holes.” She moaned, her hand closed around my cock and pumped, smearing the lube wildly. “Do you like that, Beth? Do you like being a slut to a big cock?” Her eyes were closed, she purred, “Yes, ” “Yes?” I slipped a couple slick fingers into her, one into the opalescent gape of her cunt, and another roughly into the dark knot of her ass. Beth's eyes opened, “Yes, daddy.” I pumped my fingers in time to her hand jerking my cock, “Yes?” “I'm a slut for your big cock, daddy?” There was a fervor in her voice as it seemed to drop to a whine. “Where am I going to fuck you, slut?” “Fuck my ass, daddy.” I struck her wide, beautiful ass hard, a red handprint welt immediately rising, “Spread it and ask nicely.” Beth's hands, perfectly manicured, slick with lube, spread her fat ass cheeks wide, the tight twist of her body nuzzling the head of my length, “Please, fuck my ass, daddy?” She rolled her hips and the head of my cock slipped against her crack to the cleft of her cunt. Beth moaned and leaned back, I popped into her effortlessly. I couldn't resist, I let her buck on my cock a few minutes before leaning deep, feeling her hot, wet depths, driving her flat on the bed. But I was christening my new three whole whore, and I wrenched myself free of her molten pussy. My voice was raw, “Where?” Her face in the mirror was expressionless, and her voice a bare whisper, “Fuck my ass, daddy?” I lunged into her. I slipped into her, the muscles of her abdomen parting once and again and I was inside her. I took Beth's throat in my hands and hauled her upright while I did my best to split her from the bottom. She was, in the reflection above the headboard, flawless in my arms, her hands gripped at my forearms, her breath came in groaning blasts, my balls beat a steady pulse as I sodomized the gorgeous creature. I wrestled from her throat, where I could control the angle of her body and listen to her grunting reply, to the heavy breasts that swung so erotically when unrestrained from our animal coupling. I had either hand on her massive tits when I lunged with finality into her, every muscular burst into her depths echoed with my grunts and Beth's gasping moans. She went limp beneath me, and together we breathed deeply, my lips at her ear. I rolled her over, and took her in my arms, her body hot and damp against me, we kissed for the first time and I felt the sloppy mess between her legs on my thighs as keenly as her enormous breasts between us. I was already stirring again when I lifted Beth from my bed and carried her to the wide tiled chamber of the house's master shower. We'd be spending a lot of time, here, it didn't seem proper not to introduce it to her fully. By Bitterjohnzim for Literotica

Chase, Aesha, and Jacob wade through a (broken) cistern of tears to discuss "Clean, pt. 2," the 5th episode of season 3 of The Chosen. They talk about hope, freedom, grief, trauma, the so-called "Messianic secret," and—of course—Jesus liking pickles. Join the conversation at eyesopen@midsouthchristian.edu Eyes Open is a production of Mid-South Christian College. Apply Now or learn more at www.midsouthchristian.edu

Bleary farewells and new year beginnings, stormy western seas, Jane Austen's nieces' Donegal connection, and remembering the great Pele, with Neil Hegarty, Emer O'Kelly, Conor Hanratty, Karl O'Neill, Niamh Campbell and Barbara Scully

Bleary-eyed West Australian football fans will not have to watch early morning FIFA World Cup games alone in their living room as the state's pubs and bars are given the green light to vary their opening times to cater for time zone differences. Tony Buti, Racing and Gambling Minister told Mark Gibson on Perth Live that venues can apply for extended trading permit during the world cup which will run from the 20th of November to the 18th of December. "Premises can apply as long as they have a broadcast at their venue so people can come watch the game with their friends, family and watch their team far away from Qatar," Mr Buti told Mark. "We want people to be able to celebrate the event in a nice venue - it happens in other parts of the world - it's a great atmosphere so it would be really good for people to come together and for the likes of business."See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Mr & Mrs John Wells were commended from Bleary, Northern Ireland, to serve the Lord in Venezuela, leaving home in 1929 to join William Williams in pioneer gospel work in that South American country. John Wells (1898-1989) came from an unsaved background and was converted to Christ in a gospel mission in 1920, to which he had been invited by his newly converted friend Eddie Fairfield. The young Mr Fairfield, who had recently found his way into assembly fellowship in The post John Wells – “The Eternal State” (15 min) first appeared on Gospel Hall Audio.

How do you say I'm tired, beat, drained, knackered, and the like in colloquial Hebrew? And what do you say when you crash on a Tel Avivi couch? Hear the All-Hebrew Episode on Patreon   New Words and Expressions: “Lifamim ani ayef” – Sometimes I am tired – לפעמים אני עייף Ayefoot – Tiredness – עייפות Ani ayef me'avoda – I am tired of work – אני עייף מעבודה Ani ayef me-ha-chayim – I am tired of life – אני עייף מהחיים Ayef met – Dead tired – עייף-מת Ani shafuch – I am wiped – אני שפוך Katav-katuv – Wrote-written – כתב-כתוב Nishpachti al ha-sapa – I crashed on the sofa – נשפכתי על הספה Ha-halon niftach – The window was opened – החלון נפתח Ha-halon patu'ach – The window is open – החלון פתוח Ani ma'uch tilim – I am so wiped – אני מעוך טילים Lim'och – To mash – למעוך Nim'achti kstat al ha-sapa – I crashed a bit on the sofa – נמעכתי קצת על הספה Kamti hafuch ha-boker – I got up completely turned around this morning – קמתי הפוך הבוקר Kamti hafucha , kamti me'ucha – I got up completely turned around (F.) – קמתי הפוכה Kamnu hafuchim ha-boker – We got up completely turned around (Pl.) – קמנו הפוכים Ani gamur – I am beat – אני גמור Ani machuk – I am dead tired – אני מחוק Ani karu'a me-ayefoot – I am exhausted – אני קרוע מעייפות Ani mutash – I am exhausted – אני מותש Lenaker – To doze off – לנקר Nikarti kol ha-seret – I dozed off the whole movie – ניקרתי כל הסרט   Playlist and Clips: Rami Kleinstein – Hanichi Li (lyrics) Yossi Elephant – Shir Ha-debil (lyrics) Moshe kam ma'uch Fortisaharof – Hafuch (lyrics) Episode no. 285 about karu'a

In May 1967, Stefan Michalak was spotted walking along Trans-Canada Highway 1, just west of Falcon Lake in Manitoba, Canada.  Bleary-eyed and holding a briefcase in one hand, while clutching at his stomach with the other, the story of what he was doing there exactly, is one of the strangest in Canadian history.  Go to twitter @unexplainedpod, facebook.com/unexplainedpodcast or unexplainedpodcast.com for more info. Thank you for listening. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It's Friday Eve/Cinco de Mayo/Danny's Birthday 5/5/22! It's a hilarious start when Ben completely forgets Danny's birthday for over an hour | Danny went to the Carolina Hurricanes playoff game last night and mostly keeps things together on the show today | Did you have an unfortunate nickname? | Plus What's that Noise?!, wedding non-negotiables, a new Prank Call, and much more on this full-show podcast.

Bleary eyed, but full of enthusiasm after a wild first night of the draft befitting its host city of Las Vegas, the Chaps return to bring you their thoughts on all the action from round 1.

Bleary eyed after our big win, we welcomed our first AC12 guest, Steve Arnott.. better known as Martin Compston onto Table Manners. As Line of Duty's biggest fan, mum was in her element serving up delicious lamb & pistachio and only slightly disappointed not to hear an Essex accent from our Scottish guest.We talk to Martin about his obsession with chicken wings, eating Chinese takeaway on Christmas Day, how living in Las Vegas compares to living in Glasgow & winning over his (now) wife via an Irish promise ring, a song and all at an 11am Happy Hour! His brand new ITV drama ‘Our House' is on this week, every night at 9pm. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

On Episode 120 of Line of Sight, the gang is all here to chat about the new angelic releases for Convergence, and specifically how they fit into list building in Strange Bedfellows. Bleary eyed and disbelieving, we dive into the rules for these newly released terrors and talk a little bit about the way we think the meta is going to evolve to handle them.

Bleary-eyed and results-less, Murphy and guest hack Robert Gibbs join forces to wade through last night’s Iowa caucus madness. Are the Iowa caucuses no longer viable? Laden with technical difficulties and “quality control” issues, was the mangled process the nail in the coffin for Iowa’s first-in-the-nation status? Or for caucuses in general? As the country holds its breath, multiple candidates seize on the opportunity to tout a “victory” speech: to what degree is the real winner’s spotlight diluted? If Buttigieg wins Iowa, but doesn't get to enjoy a big bounce going into New Hampshire, what will it mean for his candidacy? Will Biden crumble if he underperforms expectations? And on impeachment: Murphy shares his take on former client Sen. Lamar Alexander and the Hacks wade through what happens next. Lastly, we dive into the mailbag and take listeners’ questions on why Nevada is so often overlooked in the early states' media narrative, and how Murphy feels about the Wall Street Journal’s soft touch on Trump. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Bleary-eyed mornings can lead to big mistakes when getting ready for the morning show. And NO, that's not where moisturizer, vinegar OR gas pedal go.

Bleary-eyed mornings can lead to big mistakes when getting ready for the morning show. And NO, that's not where moisturizer, vinegar OR gas pedal go.

We've all been there. Bleary-eyed. Searching the aisles for lactation cookies, brewers yeast, fenugreek, you name it. When you're breastfeeding, MILK MATTERS. It matters big time. Lorena Garcia felt it, all of it when she had her son Diego. Through her personal struggle, she found her mission to change what was available to women. Lorena started making lactation protein powders to actually FUEL the Momma, not just to provide more milk. Her products are revolutionizing this industry, but the bigger picture is more important. We need to treat the Mom as a whole, to treat you as a whole. You are not a milk machine, this is not all on your shoulders, you are not in this alone. Women supporting and encouraging women is the only way to go, and Lorena's products are doing just that. Listen to this Momma, you're gonna feel it. Big time.     For more of Majka find it at LoveMajka.com, and on Instagram @Lovemajka, and for more of Lorena find her at @callmelore.   For more follow along on Instagram @MomsWhoRuletheWorld

Gold tells the story, not Bitcoin, sanctions are economic terror, and 4/10 of teens are worried about their parents' digital addictions. http://trendsresearch.com/ Copyright © 2019 Trends Research Institute, All rights reserved

Clemson baseball loses in a historic game at Georgia, while South Carolina beats UNC in Charlotte. Ross Dellenger from SI joins SC Sports to talk about what's happening at LSU.

feat Hurts to Laugh, Bleary, Sad Baxter, Country Westerns, Zephaniah Bostow, Dream Chambers, Faux Ferocious

feat Hurts to Laugh, Bleary, Sad Baxter, Country Westerns, Zephaniah Bostow, Dream Chambers, Faux Ferocious

Bleary eyed with newborns and messy hair, yearning for connection and parenting help, Lara and Jenn found themselves (and met each other!) in a new mom group. After 3 months of conversation about the angst surrounding tummy time and Velcro swaddles, they took their conversation to a more personal level over red wine with their kids in ergos. Gradually, the conversations increased to nighttime texts over teething, sleep challenges, and how to navigate the transition to solids. As Jenn and Lara began to get their footing together in their new role as moms, they created the space for real conversation over adult dinner to finally talk about themselves, as women and as friends, not just how they were moms. Over this dinner, they both realized that there was a need and space for something big and exciting in each of their lives. Lara was ready to pivot her business away from the corporate world, and Jenn was looking for greater connection and honest conversation within the greater Mom community. From there the idea to create a podcast and a supportive, authentic and thriving Mom community was born. This podcast is the story and lessons learned so far from Generation.Mom.   Highlights of our conversation: 4:05 - The origins of Generation.Mom 8:20 - Why aren't more talking about modern motherhood? 14:44 - What does the Generation.Mom community look like? 18:02 - The top themes that Jenn and Lara see in their community 22:19 - The next evolution for this community 25:13 - Words of encouragement for the mother in the middle of it 27:24 - Life as a mother and businesswoman - what it looks like right now 30:58 - How Lara and Jenn managed to act on their idea 34:02 - Deciding on the most important parts to work on 36:36 - Tips on creating a thriving Facebook group 42:44 - What are Jenn and Lara most excited about 46:02 - Pushing past the fear of sharing your message 51:04 - The future for Generation.Mom 53:19 - Managing the frustration of motherhood and business 56:12 - Everything is feedback 57:20 - Advice we wish we had from the beginning 1:00:33 - What does success look like to you?   Connect with Generation.Mom: Check out their website - https://generation.mom/ Listen to their podcast - https://generation.mom/podcast/ Follow on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/generation.mom/ Join their community - https://www.facebook.com/groups/generation.mom/   About me: I’m Kari Keating, mom of 3 young boys, that ditched a 17-year, 6 figure corporate career to go after her dreams. I’ve been coaching professionally for over 2 years and have had a wide variety of clients from recording artists, website developers, photographers, professional network marketers and other life coaches. My zone of genius lies in helping soul-based entrepreneurs get out of their heads and into inspired action, so they can make the impact they crave and the income they deserve.   Credits: Interview: Lara Schulte and Jenn Rout Podcast edited and mixed by Andrew Geary - spelledgeary [at] gmail [dot] com

in 2019 to defy capitalism we made the podcast even shittier check out Bleary Eyed: https://blearyeyed.bandcamp.com/ https://www.instagram.com/blearyeyedband/   https://archive.org/download/Ep.8-NewYearNewPod/1-13-19%20%238%20green%20acres%20radio%20hour%20%28bleary%20eyed%29%20III.mp3

It's about that time: the start of the school year. Bleary-eyed kids everywhere are dragged from bed, thrown into clothing, handed an energy bar and glass of juice, and shuttled off to spend hours sitting at a desk. They come home, do hours of homework, squeeze in some screen time, squeeze some vaguely edible goo into their mouths, update their Facebook status, post a few Instagram pics, and climb into bed by 10 PM sharp, Snapchatting their way to the land of Nod. Then it starts all over again. I'm exaggerating, a bit. Things aren't this bad—childhood Facebook usage is actually down! But too many children aren't getting enough sleep. (This Mark's Daily Apple article was written by Mark Sisson, and is narrated by Tina Leaman)

Picture this: lightning strikes your dreamscape one unexpected evening, stirring you from your slumber with the almighty power of a flawless idea — an idea that will improve people's lives and solve society's problems in previously unimagined ways. Bleary-eyed, you type out the concept on your phone and fall back asleep, grinning at your genius. Morning arrives, and with it a sudden, nagging sense of doubt. Though still confident in the life-altering potential of your idea, the reality of the situation is hitting home — how are you actually going to turn this idea into a reality? What form will your product take in the physical world? How will you convince users of its benefits? When can you launch? Enter Vanessa Larco. A Partner at the Silicon Valley-based investment firm New Enterprise Associates (NEA), Vanessa has a passion for helping founders bring their products to life. Her years of experience in product management — including overseeing web and mobile apps at Box, and contributing to the teams on Xbox Kinect and Surface at Microsoft — have left her with clear eyes on what it takes to transform a concept into a real life, functioning product. Vanessa joins us for a conversation touching on what exactly the role of a Product Manager consists of, and the questions entrepreneurs need to ask themselves to make sure their products will strike the balance between revenue, engagement, and virality. Please enjoy our conversation with Vanessa Larco.

Leeza Gibbons, (Entertainment Tonight, The Celebrity Apprentice Winner-2015, NY Times best-selling author, Speaker ...and caregiver) called my show for family caregivers to share her insights learned as a caregiver —and to encourage fellow caregivers.  Peter:  Welcome back to the show for caregivers, about caregivers, hosted by a caregiver …I am Peter Rosenberger bringing you 30 years of experience to help you stay strong and healthy while you take care of someone who is not. John, we have a great guest here with us today.  She’s known all over the world from Entertainment Tonight, The Celebrity Apprentice—but for THIS show, she is a fellow caregiver, and we are thrilled to have Leeza Gibbons here with us, she’s calling in.  Leeza, thank you for being on the show …welcome! Leeza: Thank you so much, I am so happy to be here.   Peter: And, I wanted to mention …we’re both South Carolinians …and we don’t have to worry about translation, because if I happen to go off the rails here and get real “country,” Leeza will be able to understand me, John. John: I had no idea … Leeza: “Oh, I got Chu! I got Chu!” John: The last guest we had on was from Boston.  Peter: And it was “wicked bad!” [Laughing] Peter: We are thrilled to have you here. Leeza …thank you for sharing your heart with us, and you story …and your passion to help fellow caregivers. This show is all about strengthening family caregivers; the need is great.  You more than most know how difficult this journey is. Tell us a little about your journey as a caregiver. Leeza: I went into it kicking and screaming. I was a very reluctant recruit.  I think that many of us don’t willingly put the sweater on. I’m like, “Oh this doesn’t fit me; these are not my clothes.”  I guess I was waiting for someone to send me a greeting card. Which, you know, it never arrives in the mail, does it”? Peter: No [Laughing] Leeza: “Congratulations! Welcome into the club!”  It’s just never like that.  I kept thinking that our culture would catch up with the need that you guys speak about so wonderfully and are so lovingly supportive of …but it’s just …we’re getting better, and the conversations are getting stronger and more powerful, but it’s just not that way.  And it wasn’t that way for me.  I tended to um …I isolated, and our whole family did.  When my mother got Alzheimer’s disease after being a caregiver for her mother, you would think that we had a blueprint.  We didn’t.  We all went to our corners and licked our wounds.  I got “over-busy,” that’s where I went to hide. My brother went into denial, my sister got depressed, and my dad pretty much closed the door with a bottle of red wine.  We said, “Wait a minute!”  “Wait.  What can we do? What can we do?  If we’re acting this way, everyone must act this way.  What can we possibly add or contribute to this narrative?” And so, we created what we wished we had, and that became Leeza’s Care Connection …and that’s our community for caregivers. Peter:  Well, and like most caregivers, we tend to learn it the hard way …it’s on the job training.  There is very little blueprint.  I remember a counselor once told me, he said, “Look, you know, Peter …I’d recommend a book for you to read …but you’re the guy to write it.”  And you, I’m thirty years now (plus) into this, and it is a brutal journey …I often refer to myself as the “crash-test dummy” of caregivers, ‘cause if you can fail at it …I’ve failed at it.  But, in this thing, you and your family pulled together—I want to throw out a couple of things, Leeza, and get your read on it.  I talk about three “I’s” that every caregiver deals with: We lose our independence We isolate We lose our identity I can’t tell you over the years how many people have asked me about my wife, but I can count the ones who asked about me.  And …how does that resonate with you …Those three “I’s” …Independence, Identity, and Isolation? Leeza: Well, it’s interesting when you say, “How many have asked about me?”  That’s a big one with the groups that we talk with—and was with me, too.  You know, and after a while, I think if you held up the mirror, you wouldn’t even see yourself in it. You know?  It would almost be like there would be no reflection there, because you get so accustomed to even feeling like you don’t exist.  You know, when we talk about how imperative it is to take your oxygen first, you begin to realize in your caregiving mode …you don’t even take deep enough breaths to think that you can even fill up your heart and soul.  It’s almost like you’re not even giving yourself credit for being a whole person.  So, I think that’s real for almost everybody. For me, I was working at like one quarter of what I had to offer, because I think most people would say, “What does this have to with everybody if you’re not a caregiver?”  But we know the percentage of the people who are offering care …also in the workplace. And we know that they’re not able to work at full steam.  And we know that they’re coming in late and calling in sick, and not able to focus when they’re there.  All of the things that are happening and how’s it affecting the bottom line across America.  We know this is everybody’s problem, and we all need to care about it more.  And that if we would just help that person find the “I” back again …that everybody wins!  But, we sure aren’t getting there fast, are we? Peter:  No, we’re not.  There are 65 + million of us. Almost half of us are in the workforce …you referenced those statistics, and they’re amazing statistics.  I’ve been saying for years, “If you love someone, you’re going to be one.  If you live long enough, you’re going to need one.” In your case, when you interact with these caregivers, and all the things you do, do you find that they have a hard time speaking in first person …first person singular?  So, when you ask a caregiver “How are you doing?” “Well, she just got home from the hospital last night…” or “He had a bad night…,” and they can’t speak …when they finally get them to say something in their own voice, that’s when the tears come and the stammering come.  Is that pretty consistent with what you’ve seen? Leeza:  That’s very consistent.  Very consistent.  And when you try to tell them, “You’re doing a good job.” You know, it’s very hard for them to hear it …to get credit and validation.  That’s really been the most exciting thing for me …is to, be able to turn that back around for people who offer care.  I think they’re the real heroes of our culture.  We’ve got all this focus on the health care system. Well, “Hello!” The caregivers are the health care system. That’s the health care system. That’s it. John:  Write that one down! Peter: Yeah …write that one down! John:  We talk about this on the show a lot …we don’t give nearly enough credit for showing up. Peter: Well, that’s the thing, we caregivers beat ourselves without mercy.  And you talk about this a lot with Senior Helpers and the caregivers you interact with …about guilt. And we just flog ourselves. So, when you try to give some kind of affirmation, we’re so wrapped up in guilt …that we can’t.  And there’s no problem so bad, that we can’t make it worse with a little bit more guilt. And so, one of the things I’m on a mission to do is help caregivers accept the fact that you don’t have to judge yourself exclusively by your job performance …you can look at your attendance. And our attendance is spot-on perfect; we show up every day …however we drag in …we still are showing up and getting the job done to the best of our abilities. Talk about the guilt that caregivers struggle with …I know you’ve seen this, you’ve done this in your own life, and you’ve seen this with all the people that you’ve interacted with.  What are some common things …and what are some things that you’re saying to it? Leeza: Well, my mother always said to me, “Show up, do your best …let go of the rest.”  You do have to get scored on the showing up and on trying.  “Are you trying?”  Trying doesn’t mean you’re are going to get it in the basket.  Sometimes you just exasperated. But you did show again, right? You did show up the next day and say, “Ok, I’m here again!” Peter: Everyday [Laughing] Leeza: Every day. “Let’s go I’m what you’ve got!” Peter:  Bleary-eyed and dragging …but I’m here! Leeza: And I think you are absolutely so right about that.  And the other piece that I think is so hard is why I do this work with senior helpers:  Asking for help is difficult.  We don’t have a skill-set for it.  We think, somehow, it’s going to rob our souls. We think we don’t get to go to heaven.  We don’t get a gold star.  We’re going to be judged. My whole personal mantra is, “Breathe, Believe, and Receive.” It’s the receiving part that’s tough for us.  But once we can let go, you know we’re so tightly wound, once we can open up and let somebody else in, and see us, “warts and all,” and to say “Wow, I need some help here.”  Then, we can exhale …and things get better.  And I think it’s the highest form of humanity both to give help and receive it.  Sometimes I just say, “Stop achieving and start receiving.” And, as caregivers, we’re like those “sit on the front-row kind of students,” where it’s like “Call on me, call on me, I can do it, I can do it, I can do it.  It doesn’t matter that I have like so much going on!” The best thing you can do right now is to say, “I’ve got too much to do …help me!”  And delegate one little thing.  And look what will happen.  And we do teach others how to treat us …by the way we treat ourselves. With my dad, when he had a heart attack; he had open-heart surgery …and the next day he had colon surgery …we had to have a strategy.  Look, I literally wrote the book on Fierce Optimism, but that wasn’t a plan.  And my brother and sister lived very close to him, like within fifteen minutes; I’m the long-distance caregiver …we all needed help.  And so, we brought in someone from Senior Helpers, you know they provide in-home care.  We had the family caregivers, the in-home care provider that we coordinated with the doctors …we had them to come help us with the meds, the meal preparation, with driving errands.  We had a strategy.  We had to have help.  So, some people just need a peace of mind visit.  Maybe they need someone to drive errands, someone just to help with the laundry … it’s a customizable thing.  But I’ve seen it make a huge difference in the lives of family caregivers and their loved ones. Peter:  You know a reporter once asked me, he said well …it wasn’t a religious interview …it was just a reporter just talking to me … he said,” Well, what would Jesus do as a caregiver?” I said, “I don’t know what He would do …I’ll tell you what He did do.  He delegated.  He had John take care of His mother …while He was hanging on the cross. I thought, “If Jesus can do that, then I can ask for help, too!” And I’m all about trying to equip caregivers with the courage and the vocabulary of asking and identifying what help is …and I really try …and I’m going to run this by you and get your thoughts by this and then I’ll let you go because I know you’re very busy, but it’s a …when people say, “Well let me know if there’s something I can do.”  And I try so hard to get people to stop saying that phrase.  And I say, “Don’t ask a caregiver, “well …let me know if there’s something I can do for you,’ because now I have think of something for YOU to do.’” Instead, offer something very specific.  “Can I send someone over to clean the gutters.”  Because nobody thinks it’s a good idea to for a caregiver to be on the roof cleaning gutters. Or, you know, “I’m at the grocery store, can I pick this up for you?”  And …that kind of stuff …the more specific …there’s riches in the niches …the more specific that you get, the more you’re going to be able to be a source of help, and a real blessing to people to do that.  How does that resonate with you? Leeza:  I am so with you on that!  I’m so with you, and I’m glad you brought it up! Because, that’s the thing!  First of all, no caregiver has time to think of what you can do to help them …. they’re not going to come up with any darn thing.  Peter: …and they’re not going to trust you to do it right …or stay with it, a lot of times. Leeza:  …or stay with it!  So, I do the same thing. I always say, “Don’t even ask. Just say, ‘I’m making a casserole …I made two, I’m dropping one off for you!’”  John:  Thank you…Thank you! Leeza: [Say], “I’m on my way to the dry-cleaners, how about put your bag out by the front porch, and I’ll just pick up your bag on my way?”  Exactly those things! Peter: Beautiful.  Beautiful Leeza: Just do it …do it …do it.  If it’s wrong, they’ll probably tell you it’s wrong.  Just stick your foot in it anyway. Peter: [Laughing] By the way …we’re all about sticking our foot in something … John: Peter …don’t be a heel! Peter: [Laughing] I don’t know if you know this, but my wife is a double-amputee, and we have a prosthetic limb outreach in West Africa, so John and I are always making leg jokes here.  And Gracie does, too, in all fairness. I mean, I’ve seen her take her leg off and scratch her ear at a stop sign with people …and they just freak out! John: [Laughing] Leeza: You did not just say that! Peter: [Laughing] Oh, I did say that! John:  Peter one time attached a dog to her wheelchair, okay?  There’s video …I’ve seen it! Peter: Well, Jeff Foxworthy and I did a whole thing of, “You might be a caregiver if …” to let people know …because some people don’t identify that.  You know …like, “If you have a professional carpet cleaner on retainer …you’re probably a caregiver.”  Or, “…if you hooked up your dog to your wife’s wheelchair …just to see if it would work”—and it did, and I have footage! Leeza: [Laughing] Peter:  You know …I mean, we’re trying …what we want to do is let caregivers know  …first off, “it’s OK to laugh.  It’s OK to come together and be joyful.  It’s OK to, like you said, “breathe!”  I do martial arts, and breathing is a part of everything we do.  We [caregivers] are trying to “white-knuckle” this thing, and I know …in the closing thing …if you could say anything to your younger self, when you did come “kicking and screaming into this,” what would that be?  Because there are so many people right now listening, who are in that same place.  They’re in that place where they’re screaming going in to this.  And they’re just terrified.  They got the phone call …or whatever’s happened.  What would you say to them?  Leeza:  I think it’s like what my mother said …where we went earlier, you know “Show up …do your best …let go of the rest.” Peter: I love that phrase John: Aww …. Kudos to Mom! Leeza:  My mother lined us up when she got Alzheimer’s; she lined up the entire family and she said, “Look, when I’m kick and scream and can no longer call you by your name, just know that’s the disease talking and not me. And, I do not want to go live with you, Leeza.  I don’t want to live with your brother.  I don’t want to live with your sister. And you have got to tell Daddy when it’s time to let me go.” She gave us our marching orders.  It was unbelievable.  She made us strong as a family. She was amazing! Peter: What a tremendous gift of a parent to that! And, I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through these things, but I’m not sorry for what you’ve learned through it. And I’m not sorry for what you’ve become through this process …because you’ve become such an inspiration and blessing to so many.  And here you are taking the time to call our show and share some of those things.  Thank you for being such an encouragement to all us here! John: Yeah …well the lessons that you shared are not just for caregivers …they’re for people talking to caregivers, like we talked about earlier.  It is a wonderful thing.  Leeza:  Amen!  I love you guys.  I thank you so much for everything you do.  You’re such a gift …and always fun to unwrap. Thank you. Peter: Thank you, Leeza.  And if people want to get involved with Senior Helpers …where do they go? Leeza:  Go to www.seniorhelpers.com.  They’ve got franchises all over the country …and they would love to help you figure out what makes sense for you and your family. Peter: Seniorhelpers.com …and …also, I think it’s LeezaGibbons.com if you want to know more about Leeza.  As if you don’t know already more about Leeza …as if you don’t already know more about Leeza!  I mean, she …It’s Leeza Gibbons for Heaven’s Sake!  However, if you want to see more …go out to her website …and, thank you so much for being here with us. Hey listen, don’t go away …we’ll be right back! This is Peter Rosenberger, this is the nation’s #1 show for the family caregiver.  We are glad you are here.  Don’t go away. [Music]

Welcome to the Big Rab Show Podcast.  In this our third episode, we chat all about our Major Competition venues.  Should they be circulated around the world?  Also we have interviews with a Drumming Legend, Mr Eric Ward; and Pipe Major Nigel Davison both from Bleary and District Pipe Band.  What a fantastic weekend hanging out with the band, great things to come this season.  Plus all your usual Piping News from this past week.   We are the show for the piping folk, reflecting everything to do with the bag piping world.  Feel free to message us on Facebook and on Twitter and let us know what you would like to hear on the show, as well just to let us know that you're listening.  Our live show continues to broadcast live every week on Fuse FM Ballymoney on Tuesday nights 7pm-9pm (uk time) be sure to check it out.  Thank you to our very kind sponsors, G1 Reeds, and The Pipe Band Hub.  If you would be interested in sponsoring the show, please do get in touch. www.thebigrabshow.com www.facebook.com/TheBigRabShow www.twitter.com/bigrabshow    

At four in the morning, Tim Caro roused his colleagues. Bleary-eyed and grumbling, they followed him to the edge of the village, where the beasts were hiding. He sat them down in chairs, and after letting their eyes adjust for a minute, he asked them if they saw anything. And if so, would they please point where? Not real beasts.

The largest outdoor farm equipment show in the U.S. — the Farm Progress Show — took place Tuesday and Wednesday in Boone, Iowa (Day 3 was cancelled due to rain and lightning risk.) Among the thousands of visitors was RealAg’s Bern Tobin. In the fourth episode of the Kickin’ Tires machinery podcast, Bern and Kelvin (filling... Read More

How do you say I’m tired, beat, drained, knackered, and the like in colloquial Hebrew? And what do you say when you crash on a Tel Avivi couch? Words and expressions discussed: Ayef, Ayefa – עָיֵף, עֲיֵפָהAyefoot - עֲיֵפוּתMi-ma ata ayef - מִמָּה אַתָּה עָיֵף?Ani ayef me-avoda - אֲנִי עָיֵף מֵעֲבוֹדָהAni shafuch - אֲנִי שָׁפוּךNishpachti al ha-sapa - נִשְפַּכְתִּי עַל הַסַּפָּהAni ma’uch tilim - אֲנִי מָעוּך טִילִיםKamti hafuch - קַמְתִּי הָפוּךGamur - גָּמוּרKaru’a me-ayefoot - קָרוּעַ מֵעֲיֵפוּתMootash - מוּתָשLenaker - לְנַקֵּר Music: Hanichi Li – Rami KletinsteinShir ha-debil – Yossi ElephantHafuch – Rami Fortis & Berry Sakharof Do you want Guy to talk about a pressing Hebrew issue? You can find him athttp://www.streetwisehebrew.com/

Ancient Aliens, the New World Order, the Lizardmen Elite, Chemtrails, and YOU! See how you fit into the world’s greatest conspiracy theories with special guest, Hollander Cooper… DOWNLOAD SHOP NEW RELEASES ON AMAZON, SUPPORT LASER TIME!! 

Don’t be surprised: Canadian Men Open With Win in Turin! – Olympic Outsider #2 (.mp3, 9:44) Bleary-eyed after waking for the 4AM face-off, Dave Olson discusses the opening game of the Olympic hockey tournament in this 9:24 long podcast. Canada beat Italy 7-2 – After a slow start, Canada turned on the jets versus a hardworking and … Continue reading Canadian Men Open With Win in Turin! – Olympic Outsider #2 →

Buttons and The Whore make the tragic mistake of recording in the wee hours after a long press-whorin' night out on the town. Bleary-eyed, slurred-word scientific discoveries are made... mind-boggling, age-old mysteries are solved. Somewhere in this train wreck of an episode, a short story may have been half-heartedly tackled. A call to 'South B'otch' and 'The Rope Maiden' turns everybody's brown eyes... PINK!

Buttons and The Whore make the tragic mistake of recording in the wee hours after a long press-whorin' night out on the town. Bleary-eyed, slurred-word scientific discoveries are made... mind-boggling, age-old mysteries are solved. Somewhere in this train wreck of an episode, a short story may have been half-heartedly tackled. A call to 'South B'otch' and 'The Rope Maiden' turns everybody's brown eyes... PINK!