Podcasts about brunette

Welcome to Ep.283 of Catfish On Ice! -Global Series Recap -Long week ahead to reflect on what the rest of this season will bring -Andrew Brunette still has the head coaching job, for now. How long does he have to turn things around? -NHL insiders everywhere are signaling that the Predators are "open for business" and even bringing up big names like Filip Forsberg and Juuse Saros in trade rumors. -Is tanking actually the best thing for this franchise right now, and how long will this rebuild possibly take?   Presented by DraftKings Pick6, Promo Code THPN for BONUS PICKS! https://tinyurl.com/DKP6THPN Subscribe to our YouTube channel and watch out live episode streams! (26) Catfish On Ice Podcast - YouTube Follow us on Twitter/X @CatfishIce (3) Catfish on Ice (@CatfishIce) / X Proud partner of The Hockey Podcast Network Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast, presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover discusses: How has Andrew Brunette not been fired?What did they show in Sweden?What other cards are left to be played with this roster?Why can't the Nashville Predators start trading veterans now?Is GM Barry Trotz waiting to make changes?Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

Robby and Joe start Wednesday's show with the latest on the Nashville Predators.  The team returns to practice today, and Andrew Brunette is still the head coach.  Is it safe to say Brunette will coach the rest of the season?  Will the new ownership have a different feeling about the state of the team right now?  We get into the latest rankings for the college football playoff.  Vanderbilt lands at #14.  Plus, some news on the CFB coaching carousel and future of Lane Kiffin at Ole Miss.

Jennifer Dulos was a mother of five and the wife to an allegedly abusive husband. When their nanny realized Jennifer went missing one day in 2019, it was no surprise that her husband and his mistress became the primary suspects. Emily and Shane dive into the many mistakes they made to cover up Jennifer’s murder & the question we’re all wondering… Where did they put her body?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In the second hour, the continued the conversation around the Jeffery Simmons calling out the offense and more reaction. They also discussed Vandy chances at the CFB playoffs and more. They ended the hour with with Andrew Brunette be the Head Coach for the Nashville Predators this Saturday? 

In this edition of 32 Thoughts, Kyle Bukauskas and Elliotte Friedman open with Adrian Kempe's extension talks before shifting to the growing conversation around Tage Thompson and why Buffalo has no interest in moving him (7:37). The guys look at a tough week of injuries across the league, including Sam Honzek and Jack Hughes' freak incident (11:04). They discuss the NHL and NHLPA's upcoming visit to Milan to monitor Olympic rink construction (20:49). They explore whether Andrew Brunette is feeling pressure in Nashville (26:29), Toronto's five-game slide and how different the Blackhawks and Connor Bedard look under Jeff Blashill (30:23), and Hockey Canada's hesitation about taking Schaefer, Bedard, and Celebrini to Milan (38:47). The Leafs' search for roster-for-roster trades comes up (46:45), as does Vancouver winning the David Kämpf sweepstakes while Montreal hunts for a stop-gap centre (56:31). Elliotte also breaks down Mark Scheifele's misconduct after a hot mic caught his comments (1:04:41), plus the chaos between the Rangers and Red Wings following an empty-net goal after time expired (1:08:05). The Final Thought spotlights the Dallas Stars' Hall of Fame Weekend (1:13:25).Kyle and Elliotte answer your emails and voicemails in the Thoughtline (1:33:14).Today we highlight Vancouver-based electronic-indie duo Carbon Mass and their single Impulse. Check them out here.Listen to all the 32 Thoughts music here.Donate to the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation here.Email the podcast at 32thoughts@sportsnet.ca or call the Thought Line at 1-833-311-3232 and leave us a voicemail.This podcast was produced and mixed by Dominic Sramaty and hosted by Elliotte Friedman & Kyle Bukauskas.The views and opinions expressed in this podcast are those of the hosts and guests and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rogers Sports & Media or any affiliates

Emily and Shane are in Las Vegas for BravoCon and diving into the criminal enterprise that put this city on the map. They talk about the mafia’s influence on the city and the crimes they’re associated with in 2025. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Emily and Shane in Las Vegas for BravoCon this weekend and they’re giving you updates on your favorite cases. From Karen Read to the Murdaughs, they’re diving into it all. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

With the release of some great collabs between some of this year's (and past year's) Eurovision faves, it's time to take a look at a whole bunch of recent songs by pairs of ESC artists. They might be from the same country, they might be from the same year, or they might have even collaborated before their dreams of holding the glass trophy had even entered their minds, but all the songs are good fun and a good excuse to check in with some favorite artists. Jeremy needs some high-speed kissing, Dimitry experiences an awakening of his appetite, and Oscar wants to take you for a ride.Watch this week's selections on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNRTEJYCXGM&list=PLd2EbKTi9fyXUVog4esKS8i77l9zXp3I1&pp=gAQBThis week's companion playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3nA9KxIkUJ3Uw79q2BnlLc The Eurovangelists are Jeremy Bent, Oscar Montoya and Dimitry Pompée.The theme was arranged and recorded by Cody McCorry and Faye Fadem, and the logo was designed by Tom Deja.Production support for this show was provided by the Maximum Fun network.The show is edited by Jeremy Bent with audio mixing help was courtesy of Shane O'Connell.Find Eurovangelists on social media as @eurovangelists on Instagram and @eurovangelists.com on Bluesky, or send us an email at eurovangelists@gmail.com. Head to https://maxfunstore.com/collections/eurovangelists for Eurovangelists merch. Also follow the Eurovangelists account on Spotify and check out our playlists of Eurovision hits, competitors in upcoming national finals, and companion playlists to every single episode, including this one!

In the second hour, DVD discusses Outside of Cam Ward, which Titans player has the most to prove in the second half of the season? Derrick asks Adam, how much can we judge Andrew Brunette and the Predators without Roman Josi? 

In the second hour, Adam Vingan had to get this off his chest, It is time for the Predators to fire Andrew Brunette? They got a lot of reactions off of it and more. ESPN NFL and CFB Analyst Trevor Matich joined DVD to discuss College Football Playoffs for Vandy, Titans and more 

Une production des studios Virage Sonore Studios d'enregistrement / production / réalisation de Balado à Montréal www.viragesonore.comAnimation : Charlie Morin et Lady GuidouneMusique Montage et Mixage : Virage SonoreCommanditaires : Pneus x4https://pneusx4.com/discount/plumes5Utilisez le code PLUMES5 pour 5% de rabaisMentioned in this episode:FULL PLUMÉ : podcast devant public!Réservez dès maintenant vos billets pour le dernier live de 2025 de Full Plumé avec Math Duff et Sami Landri ! Ça va être Full Plumé les volailles!! Billet pour les lives au Mado

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast, presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover discusses: If Andrew Brunette is fired, who should replace him?Could Juuse Saros actually be traded to the Edmonton Oilers?What should we expect from the games in Sweden?How short is the fuse on Stamkos, Marchessault, Skjei, O'Reilly, Forsberg and Josi's wick?A rant our host wants you to respond to!Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime, our guest at @glennonsports, and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

After the initial CFP rankings came out this week, do we think Vanderbilt will make the playoff with a 10-2 record?  How much help would they need?  What are the outlooks for some of the other SEC teams?  We transition to some hockey talk as Preds HC Andrew Brunette calls into the show.  Joe has the Rex Rant of the day.

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast, presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover discusses: What is the deal with Steven Stamkos?Would Stamkos thrive elsewhere and, if so, why not in Nashville?What games have been fun to watch besides the win over LA and the loss to VAN?Did 5th overall pick Brady Martin force the NHL to tweet his highlight reel goal?Another (accidental) rant...Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast, presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover discusses: Who is more at fault for this team's struggles? Andrew Brunette or Barry Trotz?When do we start talking about Andrew Brunette's job?Was the incredible 5-4 shootout win over LA an outlier?Was it the right move to send 5th overall pick Brady Martin back to junior?A rant that every Preds fan needs to hear… and then respond to!Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

Welcome to a live edition of Catfish On Ice #281! -Where do we begin right now? Preds get shellacked by Ducks. Our Game Reaction and Standout Players -The growing frustration with Steven Stamkos and his fit with the Preds. Is it beyond repair at this point? -Preds send Brady Martin back to OHL early. Do we agree with the original decision to start him in NHL out of training camp? -The blame game continues. Who deserves more blame for the failures? Brunette or Trotz? -Up Ahead: 5-game Homestand continue with Vancouver, Los Angeles, Dallas and Tampa Bay -Titans Time: Max Greenberg talks about the firing of Head Coach Brian Callahan and what's next for the rest of the season for Titans Presented by DraftKings Pick6, Promo Code THPN for BONUS PICKS! https://tinyurl.com/DKP6 Subscribe to our YouTube channel and join our live streams. Hit the comment sections and talk hockey with us! (271) Catfish On Ice Podcast - YouTube Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

The Titans are dealing with some injuries as the team gets ready to face the Colts this week.  Will we see an impact from L'Jarius Sneed anymore with the Titans?  What do we make of the latest on the coaching search news?  We transition to some Preds talk with HC Andrew Brunette as he hops on the show for his weekly visit before the game vs Vancouver tonight.  Robby has the Rob Rant on this crazy NBA news to close out the hour.

The Murdaugh’s were the most influential family in Hampton, South Carolina. But when two members of the family were brutally murdered, a slew of death and deception lead back to one person. This week, Emily and Shane are diving into the once-powerful Alex Murdaugh.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

John Brunette joins the Academy of Insurance’s George Jack and Patrick Wraight, to break down why E&S property markets are booming, what drives placement decisions, and how evolving … Read More » The post Inside E&S Property Underwriting | IJA Aftershow: John Brunette appeared first on Insurance Journal TV.

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 7 Zane s Kappa Sigma Cock Legend In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.             Domestication may be our second greatest accomplishment, exceeded only by Fire       Rhaine had clearly heard something and was trying to make up her mind if she could both check it out and keep me contained when I decided to change her train of thought. I gave an exaggerated sigh, took off my towel, threw it over my shoulder, and headed to my room. "Put, put, put, put that towel, back on," Rhaine stammered. "Why? There are not supposed to be any girls out on the fifth floor at this hour. It is all mine, according to the Chancellor herself," I said over my shoulder. "Now, are you coming along or do I get to shut my door in your face?" "We don't care," Rhaine tried to recover the momentum, "we have a key." "I don't believe you," I accused her as I stopped and kept looking over my shoulder. Barbie Lynn must be right, I have a really fine ass, because that was what they were all staring at. "Well, I have one," she taunted me as she brandished it in my face, from ten feet away. I just had to beam a smile her way. Her key was silver; mine, which hung around my neck on a light chain, was bronze, as were all five of the original keys. Someone was giving out copies of my room key; what a bunch of fuck-nuts. I turned and walked right up to her, which entailed backing her into a wall since she was trying to backpedal away, her eyes torn between my fiery gaze and awakening erection. The other two made to grab me but were flummoxed by my lack of clothing. I took the opportunity to press myself into Rhaine, who was giving me the deer-in-the-headlights look, ran a hand along her jaw and curled a lock of hair. I tickled her cheek with that lock, causing Rhaine to blush and her eyes to flutter. "Thanks, Rhaine. You are helping me out more than you know. If there is anything, I mean anything, I can do for you, let me know," I softly growled with a wolfish hunger to her, but still loud enough for her companions to hear. I stepped back and strutted away again, my semi-rigid rod swaggering back and forth. "Let's go to my room," I laughed. "Weren't we supposed to hurt him if he tried anything like that?" one girl whispered. "But he was naked," responded Mercy quietly. "What would happen if, you know, we touched, IT?" "We are not going to your room with you," Rhaine shouted at me. "Fine, suit yourself, because it isn't like I'm going to avail myself of any of the three fire escapes that lead off the roof," I chortled. "Also, touching IT can lead to blindness and sterility in the elderly under twelve and children over 65," I purposely attempted to confuse them. Children over 65, sometimes I need to show the whole world that I'm not getting enough sleep. Double Dating I was still laughing at my screw-up as the door swung shut. At the last second I failed to hear the 'clunk' of the latch hitting home, though I was already to my bed, when I heard the first hesitant footfalls on steps. I was well into my morning meditative trance, lotus style, when Rhaine crested the stairs. My eyes were shut but I could tell by her sharp intake of breath where she was and what she was staring at. "Put on some clothes!" she barked. I remained blind and silent. "I said 'put on some clothes'," she repeated. I hardly had more reason to do so now than I had a second ago. "Put on your clothes," she now sounded petulant; no response. We remained silent for almost a minute, I normally remain still for ten minutes, when she said the magic word. "Would you please put some clothes on?" "Please?" I responded, cracking open one eye. "Come over right now and give me a kiss; then I'll get dressed. Otherwise, you have to wait nine more minutes while I remain in prayer." "Prayer?" whispered Mercy; strangely, I prayed to the Christian God when I meditated, drawing upon Psalms and the Songs of Solomon mostly. "I will not kiss you; you sex, sex, sex fiend!" Rhaine shouted with disgust. I closed my eye and went back into my own little dream demi-plain. "Get dressed," she insisted once more. I could keep this up for another eight and a half minutes. Finally, in frustration, she stalked up to the side of my bed, the other two in tow. "If we need to, I'll escort you straight to the gymnastics facility where Coach Gorman can administer another lesson in humility." Since I hardly felt humiliated by our last encounter, I felt no necessity to slip out of my Center. My carpets were thin cast-offs from an earlier college epoch so they hardly aided any stealth attempt. Rhaine walked up to me, weighed her options, then pushed me lightly. "Get dressed, Zane," she said, neither convincingly angry nor commanding. That didn't work so she repeated the phrase and pushed harder. The third attempt used more strength but got the same results. Rhaine decided that her problem was in the application of force, not her message, so to increase her push, she placed a knee on the bed and pushed harder. "Get dressed, she squealed as I fell over, grabbing her wrist and pulling her with me. I leapt on top of her even as she rolled from her stomach to her back. Rhaine's eyes were wide as I dove in for a kiss. Her lips were locked shut so nothing more happened. She was still struggling for words when Mercy and the other girl grabbed my arms and yanked me up and back. "Get off of me," Rhaine shouted, a little too late to be effective or believable. Experienced leg-breakers usually keep their victim's arms up or to the side; they never stick them between their thighs. As it was, I was being pulled back on my knees, pinning Rhaine's shins to the bed and my hands merely inches away from their pussies. Was it Christmas already? So much of life is about leverage of one kind or another and in this case, the leverage was all in my captor's favor, so I needed to change things up. "Let go of me!" I shouted, struggled, and slipped my hands higher up their thighs. I'm not going to win an Oscar but I did make Rhaine smile at my feigned discomfort, to the point she propped herself up and grinned wickedly at me. "Now you are going to do what I say," she gloated. "Oh, I don't think so," I grinned right back. I rolled my arms in my shoulder joints and launched my upper body toward Rhaine. For those fans of physics, when the shoulder goes down and they've made the elbow a pivot point, then the lower arm goes up, science is my friend. I rolled my fore- and middle finger into one stiff rod and prodded Mercy's and her partner's perineum. They yelped and pulled back, drawing my fingers onto their slits and along them until I flicked their slumbering clits. Their faces flushed crimson as they stumbled back and released my arms. This allowed me to descend on Rhaine unimpeded. Her mouth open in a surprised 'O', our lips met and then our tongues touched inside her mouth. I was quick enough to wrap my arms around her before her back hit the bed. "Umm" she protested inside our oral embrace. "Umm" she mumbled, before, "Umm, she ended up moaning. I was a bit curious why Mercy and the as-of-yet named accomplice weren't all over this, breaking us apart, when I felt Rhaine's legs move from beneath me, to up my sides until they crossed over my ass and locked me in. "Is that, your, I'm not sure what to call it, cock?" she whispered between kisses. How she had become oblivious of her cohorts was beyond me. "I prefer the term cock," I responded with great gentleness but with a hungry stare, "but if cock works for you," I added with a slow, steady, downward pressure with my hips upon hers. Rhaine groaned from deep within, her head lolled back, and her eyes became somewhat unfocussed. "Oh, yes," she mouthed, barely audible. "Rhaine?" Mercy inquired. "Get, get off of Rhaine," the third girl said weakly. "Please?" Since she said please, I obliged. I flipped us over so that Rhaine was on top. I'm not sure how happy the girl was because Rhaine showed no haste in dismounting me, though we did stop kissing once more. "Would you, would you please get dressed now," Rhaine panted. I would have been more impressed, and able, if Rhaine hadn't been humping me at the moment. Clearly, my cock had wedged itself right against her panty-covered love box, her lips divided and her clit rubbing along my shaft. "You really are quite beautiful," I complimented her, as I brushed some loose hairs out of her eyes. Her face softened and she gave me her first compassionate smile. She also ground down on me harder, biting her lip as she did so. The two companions decided something, technically, it could be called a rescue mission, but I never really figured out who was being rescued as they grabbed my arms that encompassed Rhaine. The unnamed girl grabbed my unresisting hand and pulled it to her chest and kept it pinned tightly there. Mercy made even less pretense of actually helping out. She grabbed my other hand and put it in her lap. This would have been minutely more believable if her skirt hadn't 'accidentally' ridden up her thighs so that when I curled in my fingers, my hand slipped between her thighs. Any guess as to what happened when I flexed them again? As best as I could tell (I was still dealing with a face full of Rhaine), she had raised her closest thigh to block her friends from seeing what she was doing and was thrusting my hand into her crotch like it was some sort of fleshy dildo, with the 'finger-tickler' function. Heavy breathing, five seconds grinding my hand in deep, fifteen seconds figuring out that I was working my fingers underneath the elastic bands of her panties, twenty-two seconds. After that, she spread her thighs open slowly and as wide as she hoped she could get away with without being caught. She remained absolutely still as I slipped two fingers underneath her virginal armor and into her cream-covered labia while rubbing my thumb against her clit from the outside. Back to Rhaine: "I hope, ugh, ugh, you have learned, ugh, ugh, ugh, oh, God, your lesson, ugh, ugh, and we won't, Oh, have to force ourselves on, oh, yeah, ugh, ugh, you again." By this time, Rhaine had soaked her panties so thoroughly that she was making squishing noises as she rode me. "If you give me one more kiss," I grinned at her, "I'll do what you want and get dressed." I've rarely seen someone so arrogant and conceited so utterly baffled about what they should do. Obviously, if she kissed me and I stood up, we would stop having 'safe sex,' but she was truly, in her heart, trying to enforce her will on me too. "Fine," I saved her, "if you kiss me until I surrender to you, I'll go quietly and do what you say all day long." At no time was it ever discussed between us what it would take to make me surrender; she never gave me the chance. She grabbed my head with both hands and proceeded to suck the air out of my lungs and use her tongue to wrestle my tongue into submission. No-Name Girl wasn't humping me like a kitten on speed or pretending I was blind and her cunny was Braille, imparting knowledge by touch; she was playing the nervous virgin. I gave the slightest nudge toward her left breast, she stopped me. I repeated the motion and she stopped me again. On the third try, she controlled my gradual migration over her breast and centered my fingertips over her nipple. Mind you, I still had a face full of Rhaine so I couldn't see what I was doing, but I've had sex on moonless nights and I've even had sex blindfolded once (we both were and it was really fun), so I had some experience at sexual navigation by touch alone. I didn't grab, grope, or shake her orb around; I palmed the breast and slowly contracted the hand up, letting the fingers and thumb bring the areolas and nipple into a tantalizing squeeze, then re-extend hand and repeat. Her nipple was pretty average but it soon made an appearance, so on the seventh stroke, I migrated my hand toward the middle of her chest. She groaned in disappointment until I tapped on two of her buttons rapidly before going back to the breast. She understood right off the bat and that shirt got unbuttoned in three seconds flat. Another squeeze and I rolled like a gentle breeze back to the sternum, under the shirt, and to her surprise, under the bra, and started tweaking the nipple and letting her breast roll in my palm. You know, it would be easier to tell my friends from my enemies if they weren't both trying to fuck me to death. I guess all my girl-'friends' do it out of love; my enemies are trying to bring me closer to God, as long as I get there from outside the campus grounds. There are a million worse ways to die and I shouldn't complain; the most important point is that I do have friends after all. Making the Most of Punishment I had barely gotten Nameless to suck two of my fingers and my thumb to slippery goodness and returned them to working her nipple when I heard someone not on the bed speak. "Do you think we have enough footage now, Iona?" Rio purred in a lethally seductive voice. "In the words of the immortal Rio Talon," Iona recited, "these bitches are toast." Dedicated readers will recall how I once claimed that I didn't live in the real world; I lived in Crazy Town. I still do. Rhaine rolled off me, into Nameless, and they clutched each other to avoid tumbling off my bed. (I have a newer, far bigger bed on order for the very reason that I'm tired of lovely ladies nearly taking headers off my favorite sexual encounter spot.) Rhaine was bosom to bosom with a girl whose shirt was wide open with one boob pulled out of her bra. My hand was yanked free in the exchange so I rapidly pushed myself into a semi-reclined position. Why was I not getting all the way up, you ask? Reference: Crazy Town - Mercy decided that being secretly included in a sex video was a huge turn-on. She started riding my two fingers like they were a mini-cock and she was going off like gangbusters. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, ahah." Mercy's whimpers kept rising in volume. "Oh, here it comes," was Barbie Lynn's assessment, based on deep personal experience with me. "Ah," Mercy continued with even more vigor. "Don't you worry, Barbie Lynn," Rio patted her on the shoulder, "she's not nearly as loud as you are." "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," Mercy's whimpers became hiccups as I redoubled my efforts on her clitoris. "She's no Leigh either," Opal pointed out. "Ai, ai, ai, ai, ai, ai," Mercy began yelping louder still. "What is he doing to her?" Brandi gasped in wonderment. "Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba," Mercy's diaphragm began building up a terrible tension deep inside. "Ask him to show that to you in the shower tomorrow," Opal sighed, reliving her own tactile experiences under my care. "I'm not fixated on his cock; if I can't have it, I'll settle for his hands and mouth on me whenever I can get it." "Mother Fucker!" Mercy's head rolled back and she howled at the ceiling, killing all conversation in an instant. Silence hung over the room. Mercy started to fall forward but I caught her and let her drop onto my chest. I held her close until I felt her breathing start to come under control. She pushed up enough to look at me with eyes brimming with tears. "I'm ruined," she told me in a tired, raspy voice, then put her face into my shoulder and began wailing uncontrollably. I stroked her back and hair with my free hand. My other hand was covered in Mercy's fluids, and while some chicks might get off on being covered in their love juice, I doubted Mercy was into that kink; and besides, she was in her school uniform. "You are fine," I cooed. "No one is showing that video to anyone so you are safe. You are one of us and we'll protect you." That last bit was pulled 'outta my ass' so to speak. Every one of my friends up here had their own idea what our relationship was about and I could hardly speak for any one of them, much less all of us. "Speak for yourself, Num-nuts; I'm going to sink these skanks," Rio growled. "Rio, please," I requested in a calm and tender voice. She glared back with ill-concealed rage. "Do you have any idea what these bitches have been doing to me and the other freshmen?" Rio spat back. "Only the vaguest. And I am not saying they shouldn't make amends but there are two things we should consider," I began. It is a testament to how close Rio and I had grown that she permitted me to continue talking uninterrupted. "If we turn them in, we are precisely the type of people they think we are, immoral degenerates. This is supposed to be fun and liberating; if we start breaking people because they cut loose, actually express themselves and have fun, we become what they are and what we despise. I'll leave first," I told her. "Also, as strange as it sounds, probably more to you and me than anyone else on campus, we are Christians," I continued. Rio scoffed and clearly thought I'd lost my mind, or sold out. "You don't bend, Rio. You know right and wrong, and while you often choose wrong, you don't make excuses about it, and I've never had a better friend because I know you mean what you say and say what you mean, no matter how cutting," I explained. "You have clearly lived a socially deprived life, Rio taunted me, but her words cracked under her emotional turmoil ", if I'm what you consider to be a good friend, you stupid bitch moron cocksucker." "Let's put it to a vote," Iona volunteered the notion. "I think that's a good idea," Barbie Lynn stated, with Brandi and Opal agreeing. "Fine, whatever," grumbled Rio. "Okay. We are voting on whether or not we use the video as leverage against Rhaine, Mercy and, I looked to the nameless girl. "Joy," she provided. "Joy Jefferson." "Okay, and Joy Jefferson," I finished. "I vote 'no'." "I vote 'No'," Barbie Lynn went first, but Iona was right behind her with the same vote. "I'm actually with Rio on this one," Brandi said. "They are trying to get rid of Zane. I vote 'Yes'." "I vote 'Yes' as well," Opal agreed. "They shouldn't even be in our dorm or in Zane's room." The most surprised person in the room was now Rio. She clearly expected all the girls who had 'fallen under my spell' to do what I said, leaving her to be in the too familiar spot of being the Odd Woman Out. "I vote 'Yes' for both those reasons," she beamed hate at Rhaine, "plus I am Evil and I want your parents' heads to explode when they see you humping a guy in his dorm room while your lesbian buddies hold him down." "It is a tie," Iona pointed out. "What do we do now?" "It isn't a tie," I countered. "Not every FFU student has voted." "Oh, fuck no," Rio snapped. "They don't get a vote. I'll run and get Cappy and she'll sink their asses." "Okay," I told her. "I'm sure you can relate to having your fate boned by forces beyond your control. You go out and get as many people as you think are necessary to get them expelled and possibly tossed out by their parents. Take your time; there is nowhere they can run." Rio got halfway down the stairs before she came storming back up in a fury that would make a tornado proud. "Move, Bitch," she screamed at Mercy. I pushed Mercy out of the way because I knew what was coming while she had no clue. I scooted to the edge of the bed closest to where Rio was charging. Slap! Oh, fuck, that hurt. "You motherfucking, cock-smoking, son of a bitch," she seethed. Slap! resounded from my other cheek. I caught a glimpse of Iona coming to my aid but she was corralled by Barbie Lynn in time. Opal looked concerned and Brandi was totally stunned. "Don't you ever talk to me like that," she screamed, Slap! "I am not the Better Person. People fuck with me and I make them burn! Do you hear me?" "I understand," I responded with quiet, sincere intensity. Rio hauled off to hit me again and stopped. "Give them to me, Zane. Don't fight me on this. You'll be sorry," she threatened. "I'm doing this because I am your friend, Rio. From 6:00 a.m. on Day One, it has been you and me, and in four years when we earn our release, it will still be you and me," I related. "I don't fucking need you or your fucking pity, Shit For Brains," she growled. "Did it ever occur to you that I'm doing this for me, not you?" I explained. "Look around you right now; mostly really special people but none of them have lost their family and been sent off to live in exile." "My family is not dead, Zane," she replied, her anger misting away like fog before the Sun. "They may live and breathe but you lost them some time ago just the same," I prodded her. Rio said nothing for the longest time, then a lone tear escaped down her cheek. "Sorry, Bro," she stroked my tenderized cheek. "I'm seriously awake now, if that's any consolation," I smirked. "Smart ass," she chuckled back. "Are they okay now?" I overheard Brandi asking the other three girls on my side. "Oh, they are fine, Brandi," drawled Barbie Lynn. "They are like feuding twin brother and sister, somewhat incestuous, mind you, but they are about as close to kin, without being kin, as anyone I've ever seen, save Christina and Heaven." "Rio?" I requested once more. "Fine, the dumb bunnies can vote," she snarled, "but I am praying to God they screw it up anyway." "How do you ladies vote?" I looked to Rhaine but addressed them all. "Um, 'No'," Rhaine said quietly. When no one said anything, Joy rapidly agreed. That left everyone looking at Mercy not that her vote mattered to the final outcome; Rhaine and company were safe by at least one vote no matter what. "I," sniff, "okay, yes," gak, "I mean No!" she corrected, then added, "thank you." "The Noes have it; the video will be archived, not to be seen again until my funeral, which might convince Rhaine to let me live in peace," I teased. The three seniors sighed with relief. "Now for the punishment," Barbie Lynn pronounced. "What?" Rhaine blanched. "I thought we covered that. Are you going back on your word?" "No," Barbie Lynn smiled. "The video is out of bounds but there is still the matter of this being my dorm and me finding you in one of my student's rooms sexually molesting him. Re-read the Handbook if you doubt me or my authority, Rhaine." "We were told to be here by Dean Gorman," Rhaine countered. "Coach Gorman told you to go into Zane's room, sit on his lovely piece of male reproductive perfection, and ride it like you were in the Pony Express?" Barbie smirked. Rhaine, Joy, and Mercy realized that they had no plausible defense and too many witnesses. "What about you all being here?" Rhaine reposed desperately. "We heard his cries for help," Rio beamed. "I think Zane's cries went something like, 'Help, help, I'm trying to remain pure but these scantily clad babes are tearing off their clothes and partaking of my muscular, well-toned man-flesh'." "But that's a lie," Rhaine wailed. "Rhaine, we just salvaged your college career, if not your entire life, and you are worried about Rio's colorful recreation of events?" I inquired. "What is the punishment?" I looked to Barbie. "Spanking," she declared. "Three swats from each of us should do it - barehanded." Rhaine, Joy, and Mercy looked unhappy but not horrified. They looked decidedly less happy when Rio perked up. Morphing Intentions "Iona goes first," Rio said gleefully. "And it has to be on the bare, naked bottom, no panties; three spanks from each of us on each of you, no more than three minutes between the first and last." "No way," Rhaine snapped. She moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. "Fine. Let's go to Gorman's office right now," Barbie Lynn declared. "Zane, you come along as soon as you get dressed. "I'll do it," Mercy sniffled. "I'll take my spanking." "Me too," Joy joined in. Rhaine looked around for some lifeline but there was none. "Very well; let's get this over with," Rhaine conceded. The three girls took off their panties, which probably needed replacing anyway, turned around, bent over, and put their hands on the bed. "No, no, no," Rio denounced their efforts. "All three of you, on the bed, hands and knees with your knees at the edge." When Rhaine looked ready to object, "You agreed to this, Ladies. It is this or else!" The Condemned looked at one another, then slowly obeyed, but Rio wasn't satisfied. She pushed their tushes around and forced them to spread their legs farther apart and generally harangued them until she was happy with the arrangements. It didn't take a 'Doctor Ruth' to figure out what Rio was really doing but the three victims, plus Brandi and Iona, had no idea what they were in store for. "Iona, you first; give them something to remember you by. I'm next, followed by Barbie Lynn, Brandi, Opal, and Zane bats clean-up," (snicker) Rio directed. Barbie Lynn walked down the line, lifting up each skirt onto their back while I scrambled off to get dressed. (Okay, I walked six feet to my wardrobe and dresser.) Iona stood somewhat timidly behind Rhaine, took a deep breath, and, did a rather lukewarm smack. As soon as it fell Iona flinched, and she looked over to a glaring Rio. The next smack was hard enough to make Rhaine give a startled jump but not really cruel. The third, on the other cheek, was about as forceful. Iona stepped down the line and administered her share of the punishment. When she shuffled over to Rio, she looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Rio. I'm not sure about all of this. I don't want to hurt them," she explained. "It's cool," Rio soothed her. "You did exactly what I wanted you to do. Now," and whispering followed. Iona shrugged, raided my towel shelf, and headed downstairs quickly. Now it was Rio's turn. She walked up behind Rhaine, knelt between her legs, pressing them apart. "What the, Rhaine began. "Shut up and take it!" Rio growled with such menace that Rhaine turned forward and lowered her head in shame. When Rio placed a hand against Rhaine's rump, it wasn't in anger, though, but to rub it softly. "Very soft," Rio purred sensually. "Did Iona hurt you?" "Ah, not too bad," Rhaine stammered, confused by Rio's sudden affection. "I see a handprint," Rio told her. She was seeing something the rest of us were missing was all I could think. She leaned in and kissed that invisible mark, which caused more of a reaction than any of Iona's slaps. "Hey, what are you doing?" Rhaine squawked. Slap! "Ow!" cried Rhaine. She tried to pull away but Rio grabbed her hips with two hands and pulled back. "You agreed to this," Rio threatened her. Rhaine shuddered but she stopped trying to escape. "Are you going to behave so we can get this over with or do we need to make up an excuse for why we missed breakfast?" "Fine, fine, let's get this over with," Rhaine said dejectedly. "Good girl," Rio cooed. She began massaging Rhaine's right ass cheek with one hand while holding tight with her left hand on Rhaine's left hip. Rio placed a kiss on the cleft between the thigh and ass; Rhaine gave a tiny gasp, twitched, and tried to incrementally pull away. Rio was having none of that. "Bad girl," she murmured, but there was no slap this time. Instead, she slithered between Rhaine and Joy and whispered into Rhaine's ear. "Would you please get on your elbows, Sweet Rhaine?" I'd have bet money that Rhaine would have shot off her mouth if not physically resisted, but Rio was Mistress of the Moment and Rhaine meekly complied. Rio was so dominant, she even kissed Rhaine's ear and nipped the earlobe before resuming her station at Rhaine's posterior. "Is this punishment?" Brandi whispered. "Just you wait and see, Brandi," was my reply. Rio reached out with her hands, separated her ass cheeks, and soaked in the view. Right when Rhaine started to look underneath herself, Rio pushed her face into her cunt and made a loud sucking sound. "Ah!" Rhaine gasped, startled yet aroused. "Umm," Rio slurped, as she rubbed her face deep into Rhaine's Love box. I recognized the tongue technique of darting deep into the cunt, alternating with a vigorous suction of the clitoris. Instead of trying to get away, Rhaine went from resting on her elbows down to her chest touching the bed, her arms crossed, and her head resting on them. Slap! "Ow!" Rhaine whined, "That hurt." Rio was too busy giving Rhaine's cunt a world class swirly so it fell to Barbie Lynn to explain. "That's why it is called punishment, Rhaine," she said, but Rhaine was already moaning in ecstasy. A thin sheen of sweat had just started covering Rhaine's exposed flesh when Iona returned with a wicker basket full of wet cloths. I was buttoning my shirt and enjoying the show when I caught Joy and Mercy studying Rhaine with some concern and exchanging worried glances with one another. Rio seriously worked over Rhaine's cunt for another minute, then launched one more stinging slap. This time Rhaine screamed into her arm instead of out loud and didn't protest. Rio stood up and kissed the small of Rhaine's back. "You have one hot cunt, Bitch. I look forward to tearing another piece of you off later," Rio told her, voice heavy with heated passion. "Iona, towel." Iona tossed her a towel; Rio caught it one handed and used it to wipe off her face. She smiled at Barbie as the blonde came up and knelt behind Rhaine. Barbie Lynn's first spank was hardly brutal but it did get Rhaine's attention. She then began kissing each cheek as her hands parted the Senior Class President's (presumptive) ass cheeks. Her attentions wandered between the twin sets of firm muscle, her tongue flicking along Rhaine's pink, puckered star. "Gak!" Rhaine gasped. She followed it up with a serious tremor throughout her body. Barbie Lynn glanced over to me, gave me a devilish grin, and flexed her eyebrows in sheer delight. Barbie returned to Rhaine's rump and set to work using her extensive skills on her cunt, parting her lips with the fingers of one hand, pinching her clit between the thumb and forefingers of the other hand, and licking along her entire slit with her tongue. Between Joy's thighs, Rio was putting on a performance that would make Jenna Jameson proud, maybe even envious. Apparently her teenage exploration of the Arizona nightlife had not been the waste of time her parents thought it was. I doubt it mattered to Joy, who was already pushing her ass against Rio's face. On this victim, instead of spanking, Rio was biting her ass hard enough to leave marks and make Joy squeal. Two minutes into this round, Rhaine lost it and squirted all over Barbie Lynn's face. This was apparently her first squirter because Barbie tried to back away from the eruption, which only guaranteed that it splashed all over her body from eyebrows to both bodacious breasts. "Rhaine," Barbie Lynn scolded her fellow senior, "you could have warned me." Rhaine didn't respond; her face nestled down on her arms and her whole body wracked with waves of orgasmic bliss and her lungs fighting for air - she was in no state to respond. As Barbie stripped off her shirt, I gave her a washcloth and one of my white shirts. I tossed Rio her second cloth of the morning and motioned Brandi forward. "She's, she's still having her orgasm," Brandi questioned. "That's why this is called punishment," I explained with a knowing smile. Brandi opened her mouth in surprise, followed by understanding, and then a race to get between Rhaine's legs and take her first lick of Rhaine's quivering quim. "Ah, ah, ah,  Barbie Lynn, I've, Rhaine finally articulated ", never done that before, I swear. I am sorry." That was all she could muster; right after that, her fists crumpled up the quilt on my bed and she bit down on the folds in an attempt to stifle the increasingly slutty moans Brandi was bringing forth. Barbie Lynn decided not to put on my shirt, maybe not comprehending that her lacy beige bra had been rendered virtually transparent by Rhaine's ejaculate. Besides myself, Opal was also fixated on the view of her pendulous orbs and gorgeous engorged nipples. The blonde took a different approach with Joy. She lifted up the girl's hips, elevated her to the point Barbie could lick her from pubic mound to ass and back again. I knew Barbie Lynn was strong, but I'd never exploited that quality in that manner. I made a note for experimentation tomorrow night. "No, no, no, no," Joy repeated in a desperate effort to fight off the sensations that were pulsating in an irresistible current surging up from the wellspring of her womanhood. "I can't do this," she sobbed. "Lord, please save me." I hurried around the bed and slid beside Joy's head. I took her by the chin and made eye contact. "Joy, if you really want this to stop, it will end right now," I promised her, though I was sure I was getting a dirty, if unseen, glare from Rio. "You gave your word but if you honestly believe you have been punished enough, take my hand and I'll escort you out of here." I offered my hand to her and she stared at it. "Get me out of here," she panted, tears trickling down her cheeks and gathering at her chin. "No, you get yourself out of here. Give up and agree to leave Mercy and Rhaine to take the punishment you agreed to." "Take my hand, abandon them, and I'll clean you up and escort you back to the fifth floor. That will be the end of it and nothing more will be said," I defined my terms. Barbie Lynn was still going to town on Joy's clit and the poor victim so desperately wanted to escape her nearly impossible battle with her own incendiary sexuality, which was no longer begging for release but tearing its prison down brick by brick. Joy almost reached my hand but fell short at the last moment. "God forgive me," she wept. He breathing began spiraling out of control. "Ugh, ugh, ugh, oh, please, stop, I beg, beg you." Divine intervention or not, Barbie Lynn's session ended and Joy was given breathing room. She even had a moment to look up at me and give a weak smile as if she had gained some small triumph. Her self-deception was made evident to her the moment Brandi exploded onto her scene. What the girl lacked in technique and experience, she more than compensated with raw, hungry enthusiasm. Joy's eyes grew as wide as limpid saucers, "Oh, No!" she wailed. Gurgling came next, and finally, "This can't be happening. God Forgive Me!" and what may have been her first sexual climax. She did grab my hands then and pulled them to her. Her face was slack, her mouth open and panting, and her eyes had this far-off look, so I lowered my lips to her face and licked her lips before settling my lips on hers and basically coaxing her tongue as it struggled to deal with several more waves of orgasm. I kept her kiss going with the occasional rest break so she could continue to breath. "Thank you," she whispered to me as she started to stabilize. "We FFU have to stick together," I both reminded her and boggled her shaken mind at the same time. Half an hour ago she had no doubt I didn't belong here and wasn't really FFU material, male and immoral. In her regard for me, I could see her blind acceptance of traditional FFU dogma weakening. "I've got to go now; it is almost my time to start punishing Rhaine," I softly informed Joy. Her hormone-trampled mind struggled to grasp that she was halfway through her torture. Brandi would finish soon, then it would be Opal, and then it would me, a male; me, face first at the gateway to her sacred womb. Her virginity would be spared from extinction by my will alone and I could tell that scared the hell out of her. She'd been chosen for her belief that Zane was a corrupter and that extraordinary measures were necessary to drive him out, no matter how sinful they may appear, and now she was face down and bare ass up, surrounded in his room by him and his friends. The most terrifying thing of all may well have been that we had made her feel more like a woman than she'd ever felt before. Where Rhaine had divorced her feelings and pleasure from her grasp of reality, and Joy was beating herself up every step of the way, Mercy had completely submerged herself in the transformation her body was going through. Mercy had already experienced one orgasm and come crashing down into doubt and self-loathing, only to be shown that her life wasn't over and no one thought the worst of her for actually enjoying sex. She didn't feel like a tramp or a slut; she felt alive and burning bright, so when Rio gave her that first hard spank, she'd moaned instead of crying out, and when the 'felon' gave her first few licks, Mercy reached under her body with one arm and started rubbing her slit in tandem with Rio's face dance. Even Rio's snicker didn't dampen her ardor, and when Rio took Mercy's hand and pushed two of Mercy's fingers deep in, Mercy thrust back with her hips so that her fingers touched her hymen. When Rio pulled Mercy's hand out of her twat, Mercy whimpered in need, but when she felt her fingers go into a different damp, warm orifice, she stopped, and when Rio's mouth started sucking the juices off of those fingers and twirling her tongue around each individual digit, Mercy couldn't help herself from wiggling her hips like a bitch in heat. With the fingers clean, Rio inserted them, along with two of her own fingers, back into Mercy's cunt, extremely stretching it out. Rio then came around the far side of Mercy, away from the others, and whispered into her ear. Later she related what was said: "You like that don't you?" Rio teased. Mercy nodded vigorously. "Come to Zane's room tonight and I'll fuck you all night long. You'll be my bitch. Do you understand that?" Another vigorous nod. "I've got to leave you soon to these other girls and Zane, but don't you forget you are mine now; my property, my mate. Don't make me hunt you down and put my brand on your ass, clear?" One final, excited nod. I live in Crazy Town. On par with that information was the fact that I had promised the night to Heaven and I had no clue how in the hell that was going to work out. My bed barely held three people, four was asking too much. If you made one of those people Heaven with her secret, the term 'impossible' came to mind. At the start of the line, Opal met Rhaine. She landed two very loud, wet smacks on Rhaine's behind, causing the senior to rock forward. Having gotten most of the 'cover story' (the spanking) out of the way, Opal rolled Rhaine onto her back with only the weakest of protests. She started a few gentle teases and kisses with her lips to Rhaine's cunt while Rhaine's legs dangled off the floor. Once she got Rhaine back into an erotic state, Opal began lifting Rhaine's thighs up and out until she'd pushed Rhaine's knees almost back to her breasts and feeding like a ravenous succubus on every inch of thigh, cunt, ass, and stomach. Opal hadn't been gentle with Brandi, but she'd been absolutely gentle, kind, and caring compared to the treatment Rhaine was getting. Rhaine held it in as long as possible but when she cut loose, she cut loose in a big way. Her fists pounded the bed repeatedly, her head swept back and forth, and her lower torso kept thrusting off the bed and into Opal's mouth, lips, and tongue. "Damn!" she screamed through clenched teeth as her body expended one last spasm. Opal succeeded in catching most of Rhaine's fluid eruption, rolled the heavily panting Rhaine to one side, and administered the proscribed last spank. "You're up, Zane," she winked with a smile, before cleaning her face and moving on to the nearly as devastated Joy. I settled between Rhaine's legs and began administering kisses. "Please, Zane," she begged, "it hurts. I'm so sore. Please just spank me." "Sorry, I can't do that," I told her sternly. Rhaine closed her eyes and muttered some kind of prayer, though she made no attempt to shield her body from me. I doubt she even knew I was lying beside her until my first kiss played upon her eyelids. "You are not going to, to me?" she inquired with a desperate hope. "No. I'm going to spank you so hard you can't sit for a week," I threatened, "unless I forget my three-minute time limit. I can't imagine what would possibly distract me, though." It took Rhaine's sexually fatigued mind a moment to catch on but when she did, she clasped her hands on either side of my face and kissed me with an inspired intensity. I let my fingers play along her breastbone and stroke her breasts through her shirt and bra. About a minute into this little game, I discovered Rio leaning over us, clearing her throat. "This monster made us jump out a second-story window," she stared intently. Fear crept back into Rhaine's eyes as she glanced from Rio to me. "I am biting her tongue, I promise," I grinned. "I'm not joking, Zane," Rio warned me. "Fine," I groaned. "Rhaine, roll toward me," I instructed, as I propped myself up, and she reluctantly rolled toward me. I put a hand on her hip, hiked up her skirt and rolled her farther to me until I got a good look at her rump. "Rio, take a look at this, please," I motioned to Rhaine's ass. Rhaine blushed and lowered her head. I doubt having her ass naked and on display on my bed was what she intended or even imagined possible when she got up this morning. I ran a hand along her spine to the cleft between her cheeks and squeezed the upper one tightly. "This is a thing of beauty," I told Rio, but clearly wanting Rhaine thinking about what was being said. Rio knew me too well to think I'd turn that ass cheek red so she took the other path. Rio reached out and stroked it too. "Okay, Zane; it is damn sexy," Rio acknowledged grudgingly. I took Rhaine's hand in my own and placed it on her side, just below the ribs, and led it in a wandering trip to her lower back, then to the cheek I'd displayed to Rio. "See, Rhaine, you have a fantastic ass. God knew what he was doing when he made you," I told her. "It is a pity we can't see you in shorts or a bikini from time to time." "That is sinful and leads men into the Sin of Lust," Rhaine said with absolute conviction. "This is the work of the Devil, not God." Rio ground her teeth but I grinned. "Did God create the male peacock?" I questioned, while I kept hold of Rhaine's hand and stroking her ass from tailbone to the dip into the bottom of her sopping wet cunt. "Yes," she cautiously replied, her breath coming faster and faster. "Yet we don't run around putting them in garbage bags because they are enticing to the eye," I reasoned. "You make it sound like it isn't a man's fault that he can't control his own impulses, even though he is supposed to lead his household." "God made you beautiful and he made me with will enough to look at you and respect any decision you make about your body," I hammered away. "I'm not going to say I don't want to have sex with you because that would be a lie, but the important thing to me is that you took a Purity Pledge and I have to respect that." Rhaine had nothing to say at that moment. I was clearly a randy bastard who preyed upon good Christian girls and tricked them into surrendering to my dark desires. "You are trying to trick me," she panted, while I leaned in and kissed her neck and ear. "Rhaine, I've been trying to avoid you since we first met. You are the one who cornered me in my dorm," I pointed out. "You came into my room when you knew I was either naked or getting dressed. You chose to crawl onto my bed when I was sitting down, meditating and clearly naked. I was hoping my blatant sexuality would make you leave me alone, not attack me." "Don't blame Rhaine," Rio joked to me. "Rhaine, Zane's like sex candy," she directed to Rhaine. "You won't be the first bunch of Christian bitches we've had to rescue Zane from. It is not his fault; it is ours. He's masculine, kind, and available. You know that he has been in three fights since coming here; right?" "Uh, uh, uh, yes," Rhaine panted. "It makes him dangerous, he's a man." "Really?" Rio chortled. "Two of those fights were to save me from you ladies, and he stopped fighting the moment I was safe. The third fight was caused because two of our girls were being set upon by those University guys and Zane put his body in the way, they hit him first." "I, is this true?" she said with a heavy breath. "Ask Mercy to tell you the truth, not what they've told her to say. Ask Cappadocia about that first fight and the fight off campus. You may not like Iona but she wouldn't lie to you and she knows how that second fight started," Rio sounded so reasonable. I slowly rolled over onto Rhaine while I kissed her neck and shoulders. "Ah, ew, yes," Rhaine cooed passionately. "Tricking me," she sighed but that didn't stop her from slowly moving her arms and legs around me. "Do you want to be on top?" I whispered to Rhaine. "I, uh," she stammered, then nodded. We rolled to the very foot of the bed and started a serious make-out session. I began rubbing down her mid- and lower back for a bit before moving to her ass cheeks and giving them a firm squeeze. "That doesn't hurt too much, does it?" I asked compassionately. "Umm, no, feels good," she managed to get out between kisses. "Okay," Rio smirked as she tapped Rhaine's shoulder. "Tap out; your time is up. Now get off my bitch (meaning me). He's got two more of you to go through before we can leave." "Huh? What?" Rhaine sounded confused, then, "it's over?" Her eyes betrayed how little she wanted this to stop right now. "Good," Rhaine sighed sadly. She began sliding down my body. When she saw that I was rising slower than she was receding, Rhaine waited until our lips met before continuing. We remained lip-locked until we stood up, my hands cupping her ass (now covered by her skirt once more) and her arms wrapped around my neck. "Have you learned your lesson?" I inquired when we finally came up for air. Rhaine looked at me for several seconds, unsure what to say. "Joy's waiting," Barbie Lynn reminded us both. Rhaine let her hands drop to her sides and stepped back. Barbie Lynn pressed something into her hands which turned out to be a fresh pair of panties. "I doubt you want to put on your old pair," Barbie Lynn pointed out, "and these are fresh out of the bag." "Thank you, Barbie Lynn," Rhaine said with embarrassment. "Here is a washcloth," Iona added as she handed one over. "You can go behind my wardrobe to change," I offered. The thought of any of the girls going behind a veil to avoid exposing themselves as they cleaned up and put on underwear might appear pointless, but after everything those three had gone through, handing them back a piece of their dignity was a kindness we could all afford. Rhaine disappeared from sight and I turned to Joy. Opal was still giving her a seriously hard time despite the time limit expiring and gave me a wink as she went to displace Brandi on Mercy. I put a knee on the bed and lifted Joy up. She squealed but didn't squirm and I carefully maneuvered her onto her feet. I held her tight while she reoriented. "Are you okay?" I voiced my concern. Joy gave a brief nod. "Are you ready for your last punishment?" Joy looked me in the eyes, then gave the tiniest acknowledgement. "Now stand on your tiptoes, put one hand around my neck, and use the other to hold up the back of your skirt while you press tightly against me." When she had done as I directed, I looked deep into her eyes. I spanked her cheeks, left-right-left, drawing forth a sharp breath, gritted teeth, and tears brimming in her eyes. I had not been gentle but sometimes a person needs punishment to forgive themselves for feeling good about something they've been told is wrong. That was the pop psychology I was running on at the moment. If I got it wrong, forgive me; I'm only eighteen. No sooner had Barbie Lynn and Iona supplied Joy with her parting gifts did Mercy howl. Her further outbursts were muted by her grabbing my much abused pillow and using it as a muzzle. Her body tensing and recoiling time and again was both frightening and erotic combined, and I was suddenly trying to remember if anyone close by knew CPR. Opal fell back on her ass and looked at the rest of us. "That was wild," she smiled, and licked her lips, "but I think I need to go change." I helped Opal stand and we exchanged a rich yet messy, sticky kiss. "Best intervention ever," Opal joked with me, then skipped off down the stairs. I turned to Mercy and plopped down beside her. A quick examination showed a sweaty, tired young lady with a sensual smile on her lips. "I think she's had enough, but" , I swatted her ass lightly three times and stood up. "Breakfast anyone?" Dorm Life, Heaven, and Mercy too. We were late heading out of the dorm so, under Rhaine's watchful control, the group jogged toward the dining hall. As we made the final approach, Rhaine grabbed my arm. Rhaine, Joy, Mercy and I slowed down while the rest headed in ahead of us. "What are we going to say?" Rhaine hissed in a panicky voice. "I was childish, blocked the door, and you caught me sneaking down a fire escape," I suggested. "You will get in trouble," Rhaine said with utter confusion. "I can take it better than you can," I related. "I don't understand. Why are you, all of you, doing this for us?" Joy asked. "Because," I snorted, "we are the good guys." They clearly thought I was a nut but going inside cut off the conversation. "Besides, I need to do something that's going to be rough on both of us." The Smartest Girl on Campus Looking back on things, that first Monday when it was only Rio and I realizing what I was became the only time I entered the Dining Hall or Assembly without being noticed. First I had been a novelty, now I was the freakish center of the storm. I sort of held my reactions in reverse; the hateful looks my enemies gave me made me laugh while the hopeful looks my allies gave me scared the hell out of me. I was dwelling on that quirk in my nature when I reached the spot my gang was sitting; we had our own location and the majority of the school had given it their blessing. Weird? Only the Class Presidents had their own preordained spots. Speaking of which, "Hey, Jungle Boy," Rio teased in such a dangerous way that I felt my balls crawl up into my body. "Iona nominated you for Freshman Class President." "Ha, ha, ha," I joked dryly, then looked to Iona. She couldn't meet my gaze. "Iona, why? Why didn't you at least ask me first?" "I knew you would say 'no'," she replied softly, then she looked up with more determination, "but I know you would be a great Class President." "Don't sweat it, Zane," Rio chuckled. "You need fifty signatures to be on the ballet." "He has seventy-two," Iona informed us. "Gak! How long have I been out there?" I gasped. "Nine minutes," Iona smirked bashfully. I looked around the room, humbled and disturbed. You have to remember that there weren't 250 freshmen and nearly one-third had decided that I should lead them; the faculty must be having kittens. I was thinking that over when a previous bit of theater came back to bite me in the ass. A girl I vaguely knew, Arielle, a fellow freshman, put her hand on my shoulder and waited. It took me a second to clue in but thankfully she and the others were patient. I put my hand on top of hers. "Thank you," I told her. She smiled and moved away, immediately replaced by another freshman. Over 80 freshmen followed and I could feel the disgust emanating from the head table were Chancellor Bazz sat. Friends like Brandi and Dove came over to congratulate me on my nomination but I realized my more savvy friends stayed away. They knew the struggle I was in for and the very real possibility that even if I was elected, Chancellor Bazz would simply kick me out. I'd be going to them for advice and counsel. I guess I might actually have to ask Iona who the Sophomore and Junior Class Presidents were. In fact, "Iona, who are the other Class Presidents?" I inquired. "They would be those haughty bitches in pleated skirts," Rio interrupted. "Funny like a crutch," I replied snidely. "Besides, that describes about half the girls here." "These would be the ones avoiding you like the plague," Rio snickered. "Here you go," Iona intervened, showing me two pictures on her phone. "Besides, you aren't that alone; the Science Club and Botany Club both support you." "Whoop-de-do," Rio huffed. "What are they going to do? Send nasty e-mails and throw clods of dirt on our opponents?" "Could I meet with them?" I asked Iona, ignoring Rio's snide asides. "They've both agreed to help with your Solarium," Iona shot a 'that will show you' to Rio, "and you already know the head of the Science Club but I can set up a meeting if you like." "Make it so," I commanded loftily. "Zane, if you become Class President Iona will be your Personal Assistant, but what does that make me?" Rio inquired. "My House Assassin," I suggested. Rio seemed to like the idea, it fit with her violent tendencies, but she wanted an explanation. "You are almost always underestimated, and like me, you have nothing to lose." "House Assassin," Rio mulled it over. "Okay, but I prefer the title 'Ninja Reaper Angel'." Rio and I exchanged looks; hers mischievous and mine one of amusement. "N R A"

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover welcomes in Jack Williams of The Hockey News to discuss: How impressive is the 2-0-1 start?How encouraging is Juuse Saros's play?Have we seen enough promise from Brady Martin to keep him around?Does this power play scare teams?Who had Erik Haula as the Preds' leading point producer?Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime, our guest at @jackgwilliams and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 1 When Glen Zane Braxton is accidentally accepted into a fundamentalist women s college. In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels. Leading up to the first day of college. Every old trick was invented by someone once upon a time. A Little Background: Hi. My name is Glenn Zane Braxton but everyone calls me Zane. I'm a good-looking (or so I'm told) athletic kid just over six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds. I get my Nordic looks from my Mom who hails from Norway. I apparently get my optimistic attitude and loose moral structure from my Dad, though I was to learn that Mom was a bit freaky too. My parents were killed in a rock climbing accident when I was fifteen so I was sent to live with my Uncle Tim (Dad's younger brother) and Aunt Jill. Unfortunately for me, while my parents had been rich hedonists, Tim and Jill were fundamentalist Christians doing missionary work in northern Thailand. I spent the next two-and-a-half years in a place where a paved road was a luxury. I have nothing against Christianity; I consider myself a decent Christian but I believe my faith stops at the next person's 'I'm not interested'. My aunt and uncle were a very different breed. They believed that it was every Christian's duty to convert our little brown brothers and sisters (no shit, this is what Tim told me) whether they wanted it or not. Needless to say, I witnessed them busting their self-righteous heads against the faith and traditions of these ancient people they'd come to 'help enlighten,' while I learned all about Thai culture, cuisine, and kick-boxing. I learned that spending time with Thai women was a hell of a way to get another kind of education too. On the down side, Tim beat me whenever he found out about the women. To get back at him, I spent time with Buddhist monks - score one for the Zen! Three months ago there was an incredibly brutal monsoon and something possessed Tim to go down to the river to save people. Since every sane individual was running away from the river, I pleaded that we go with the people that actually knew what was going on. Instead, I ended up with my Aunt and Uncle hip deep in the muddy water when an uprooted tree hit Tim and Jill. Like a fool I jumped into the flood waters after them. I got to Jill - Tim was a goner. Afterwards, when I realized that no Tim meant a return to the States, I was not crying tears of joy - that would have been cruel. After they gave up the search for Tim, Jill and I returned to Western Civilization. Jill surprised me by actually having a college degree that was useful and she got a job in Virginia working as an insurance adjuster for a nice sized company. I had completed my high school credits online back in Thailand and passed my college entrance exam so I was looking forward to partying it up somewhere far away from Jill. Fate has a funny way of laughing at me, though. For some byzantine reason, Dad set up my trust fund so that I would get a fraction of my inheritance when I turned eighteen, as long as I was in an institution of higher learning approved of by Tim and Jill - now just Jill. Otherwise, I had to wait until I was twenty-one. I wanted to go to the University of Hawaii Jill found a nice little place close to what she called home, real close. Speaking of home; our living arrangements were courtesy of Tim's generous insurance policy and his own little share of Dad's family's money. She bought us an expansive two-story spread with nice large yards, front and back, right where the countryside hits the suburbs. I wished we had a pool and even offered to dip into my own funds to have one put in but since pools were 'cesspits of depravity' Jill nixed the notion. Getting a car was also an interesting discussion. Jill said 'no way' and wouldn't budge until we noticed that our neighbors were two nice looking ladies in their twenties (I guessed). On the day we moved in I went over to talk (I'm drawn to women like a comet to the Sun) and spent over an hour getting to know them. There were two big pluses about their place; one was the large pool in back, which the girls (there turned out to be more than two) promised I could use whenever I wanted, real nice of them. The other one was, When I got home I told Jill not to worry about the car; the cute lesbian couple offered to pick me up from school whenever I needed a ride. "Are they atheists?" Jill gasped. Apparently them being homosexuals wasn't enough? "Nah, they are Wiccans," I lied again with a smile. We went car shopping the next day. I figured I would tell Jill we lived next to a sorority house (to the other university in town) at some later date. What Not to Wear Moving in turned out to be half the battle for my life at the new house. Next came the clothing war. Personally, I think I look great naked and do wonderful with people of the female persuasion but in Virginia they arrest you for this. Since I only have a twenty percent chance of being taken in by a female police officer (or the five percent of the male officers who are out and-out homosexuals), I'm going to go to jail if I go around nude. My solution was to look around the local teenage hangouts, websites, and social networks to get me a style that would be both individualistic yet fit in. Aunt Jill was of the opinion that my school uniform (see below) would be my normal look. When I told her I'd use my own money to get what I wanted she threatened to throw them out because I was still living under her roof. I got pissed off and since my outlet options were pretty limited, I stupidly went to my room and did what every teenage boy should never do when their female guardian is at home - maybe I have malaria and the fever was clouding my thought processes. In Thailand I would simply go out into the jungle Jill never went out into the wilderness if she could help it. There was no jungle and Jill knew right where my room was, and since it was her house, she barged right in. Half way through giving me a piece of her mind Jill noticed me, the Vaseline, the box of Kleenex, and what my hand was pumping. I yanked the comforter on my bed, trying to cover myself, which resulted in my flipping off the bed (I was sitting on the comforter) and rolling to Jill's feet. Jill stood there with her mouth wide open, eyes glued to my cock. I stopped pumping but my rod wouldn't go down despite my shame, not of my erection but because I didn't like sexually taunting a recent widow. "That's, that's disgusting," she gasped while still fixated on my erection. I wiggled around so that I could pull up my underwear and slacks. Once my cock was under cover Jill started harping on me. "You vile pervert," she seethed. "What is the meaning of you showing your, thing to me? You are filthy. Wash your sheets then wash your hands then never do this again." "Um, Jill, Aunt Jill, I'm an eighteen-year-old male. I need to masturbate," I informed her. "Not in this house," she said shrilly. I grabbed the tissues and Vaseline, then headed for the door. "Where are you going?" she worried. "Into the woods out back," I answered as I tried to move past her. "I kind of need to finish this." "You will do no such thing," Jill gasped as she grabbed my arm, "you might be seen, and it's wrong." First priority for Jill was social appearances while my spiritual well-being was somewhat less important at that moment. "Jill," I cautioned her, "I really need to knock one out. I'm stressed." Jill grabbed the Vaseline and tissues from my hands, not because she was stronger but because in my own twisted way, I still acknowledged Jill as my authority figure; not much of one, but one nonetheless. Ripping them away from her wasn't an option so, "Jill, you are my only parent now. I need to come to you about, things sexual," I suggested. "No," Jill responded with some shock. "There will be no sex in this house. You will have sex when you are married and not before, ever. Even then, sex is only for procreation." "Jill, I'm not a virgin," I informed her. Her jaw dropped but I'm not sure if it was shock, horror, or something else. "You've had sex with a girl?" she whispered. "Aunt Jill, I had twenty girlfriends back at the mission," I related. "Did, Did Tim know? How did it happen? When did you do it?" she stammered. "Tim knew; that is why he kept beating my ass. "It happened simply enough; we would be bathing down at the river and if we liked what we'd seen and if things clicked, we'd go fool around. Sometimes we'd kiss and touch and sometimes we'd have sex; you know, blowjobs, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex," I continued. "Gack, ah, oh, God preserve me," Jill sputtered. "As for when, the best time was right after Bible study when you and Tim were preoccupied with the parents and us kids could sneak off to a house and fool around in the common room, and then couples would pair up and have sex in the bedrooms," I finished. "Oh, poor Tim," Jill moaned as she slumped against the door sill. "Can I have my stuff and go now?" I asked softly. "No," she snapped. We kind of stood there for a minute before she asked, "Were you sneaking peeks of me at the river?" "Umm," I half turned away, "yeah, I did." Jill looked offended. "You are very sexy, Jill," I attempted to mollify her. It didn't work. "You pervert, you freak, that's incest. It is against God's Laws!" she screamed at me. "Jill, we are not blood related, and I never said I actually wanted to sleep with you, only that you have a very nice body," I countered calmly. "Shut up! Stop talking," she shouted, before storming off, leaving me even more frustrated. An hour later Jill sent me out to get some pizza but when I got back she wasn't in the house, though her car was still in the garage. I smelled smoke and followed the scent out into the backyard. I saw what Jill was doing; she didn't need to tell me what she was up to but she did it anyway. "I think we need to put your misspent time in Thailand behind you," she announced, "so I've decided it is best to get rid of all the clothes, books, and statues you brought back." "You should have asked me," I stated. Of course, this meant War. "You are awash in sin, Zane," she answered in this twisted, loving tone. I turned and went in the house. What had that monk said to me when I'd discussed my relationship with Tim and Jill? One does not build a house of stone out of grass Which he suggested meant petty payback satisfies little and is soon gone, but real revenge comes from working permanent change on your opponent. Over the next four days I ordered a secure chest online, withdrew my bank limit each day, and started taking a pitcher of grape juice to my room at bedtime (it will make sense in a moment). I decided to start my plan Sunday night. Stage One: after Jill has gone to bed, fill her car up with gas and report all her credit cards and bank card stolen. We have plenty of food in the kitchen and Jill takes her lunch to work so with the car full of gas she won't immediately notice her cards are useless tomorrow. Also withdraw yet another five hundred dollars with my bank card, which is the daily limit. Stage Two: Once Jill has gone to work, I put three of her Sunday's Best into the steel chest, to which I have the only combination. Burn every piece of ultra-conservative matronly-wear, from underwear to bathrobes to jackets. Now that mid-morning has come, I head over to the Sorority House and enlist the aid of my two new friends, Leigh and Corrie. We go clothes shopping with the money I've saved up. Each 'sister' gets one thing (for services rendered) and the rest of the money we dump on getting Jill everything a sexually confident and active twenty-something would wear (Jill's only thirty) as well as getting me some normal clothes. I'm not going to attempt to make Jill dress like a hooker; that would never work. Jill's been warped by her narrow-minded environment for all of her three decades so making her more tolerant is going to take time. Stage Three: As we are heading to the bedrooms that evening I 'accidently' bump into Jill and soak her with a pitcher of grape juice she now knows I'm taking to my room on a regular basis. Grape juice doesn't come out and a pitcher will soak her down to her underwear and bra. "Sorry, Aunt Jill," I blathered. "Oh, Zane, this dress is totally ruined. I should make you pay to replace it," she sounded cross. "Consider it done," I offered. Technically, I'd already bought her a new one. Jill went into the bathroom muttering Leviticus before tossing me a roll of paper towels to clean up the spilled juice. "Zane?" Jill called from the bathroom with a hint of concern. "Yes?" I responded from the hallway. "Where is my bathrobe?" she inquired. "In the laundry," I lied. I hear her putter around for a few seconds, then, "Go to your room and shut the door," she ordered me. I got up and made a point of noisily shutting my door. Half a minute later the bathroom door squeaked open and I heard Jill pad quietly to her room and shut the door. I opened my door and sprinted to the bathroom. I retrieved her clothes from the hamper and tossed them in the sink, got the carefully secreted lighter fluid from underneath, doused them, and tossed in a lit match. At the same time as I'm doing this, I heard Jill slamming dresser drawers open and shut. "ZANE!" Boy, what have you done?" Jill shouted from her room. I raced out of the bathroom (on purpose) at the same time Jill burst out of her room so we were basically five feet apart when Jill remembered that she was naked; I was barefoot in pajama bottoms. Jill's look was priceless as she realized that the number of men who'd seen her totally naked since she hit puberty had just doubled. She spun around and bolted into her room, door slamming shut once more. It took her a few moments to form a plan. "Zane, go to your room and shut the door," she growled with a tad more control. "Sure thing." I grinned as I walked to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it waiting for what I knew would unfold next. Sure enough, Jill raced to the bathroom. "Zane, where is my dress?" "In the sink," I told her. Three, two, one. "ZANE! What have you done!" she screamed once more. "My bra, my underwear, my hose, she sobbed. "Jane, you have a robe in your closet. If you want, put it on and come to my room so we can talk this over," I suggested. I didn't hear anything for fifteen minutes as I waited on my bed. Finally, the door swung open slowly and Jill took a half step into my room. Her eyes were downcast in shame but her voice was full of hurt and anger. In her mind there was no possible reason for me to have done this. She was pulling off the Hurt Little Girl bit really well with her mid-thigh crimson satin robe and her wavy, deep-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and down her back. "I can't believe you picked this out for me to wear, Zane. Now where are my clothes?" she ground out. "Jill, you look good in that, really good, but I didn't pick it out for you. I had our next-door neighbors do that because you are all beautiful young women," I explained. "If you tell me what color you are wearing, I'll tell you where your clothes are." Jill stood stock still as she worked out that I was talking about her panties. "Blue, the deep blue ones, with the black, lace," she whispered. "Not the white?" I had to ask since I would have guessed this was the first pair of non-white panties she'd ever worn. Her constricted mind had expanded a tiny bit. "The white ones were nearly see-through," she answered after a second. I had to agree with that. "I put your clothes exactly where you put all the stuff I brought back from Thailand," I answered. It took a moment for that to sink in. Her burning green eyes popped up in shock. "What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?" she wailed. "I'll tell you if you agree to one request I have for you," I replied with compassion. "Fine," she hiccupped. She was so body conscious that she wasn't really thinking about the implications of what she was saying but I believed she would still honor her word. "I want you to wear your hair down all day tomorrow, or in a ponytail, but that's it," I ordered. Jill looked at me truly confused; she always wore it in a bun. "But why?" she questioned. "I don't understand." "Your hair is beautiful when it is down, Aunt Jill. I figure it wouldn't kill you to try a new look," I answered. Again, she didn't understand but I was okay with that, and getting her clothes out of the closet was part of the deal. I pulled out bag after bag and set them on the bed. Jill stepped up during the process and pulled various articles of clothing out, utterly flummoxed with what she was discovering. This wasn't slut-wear but it would definitely show more of her curves and skin than she would have ever normally considered. When I finished bringing bags out she looked past me, expecting more. "I can't wear any of this," she declared. "Please tell me you didn't really destroy my clothes." "Jill, I did burn up most of your clothes and you can wear what I bought you. You are thirty, not sixty-five. When I jumped into that river, God decided that I rescued you and not Tim, and I can't believe I saved you so you could go right back to the same life you had before," I interpreted what might have been true, God doesn't talk to me. "What did I do to deserve this, Zane?" she pleaded. "You burned up all my stuff from Thailand, Jill. And while you might think of this as revenge, it's not. You may not see it this way now but one day, I hope you will understand that I love you," I told her. "Zane, I don't understand. What you did was evil, despicable, and wicked and I won't tolerate it. We should pray to God, me for guidance and you for forgiveness," she pouted. She made to kneel down at my bedside so I followed out of long practice. We clasped our hands in prayer and while Jill closed her eyes, mine remained open. Now, my bed is not even at knee level so when Jill knelt down to pray, leaning forward until her elbows were on the mattress, she inadvertently thrust her ass backwards, yes, Jill was doggy style on my bed. I had abstractly known Jill was attractive but the thought of having sex with her had never come up. What was now 'coming up' was suddenly a problem, as were my attempts to keep up with exactly what Jill was asking God for, but the gist of it seemed to involve the Almighty taking steel wool to my corrupt soul, the harder and more painful the scrubbing, the better. "Amen," we said in unison as the thirty-seven minute ordeal came to an end and Jill stood up. "Jesus has told me that I only have to put up with your dementia until morning. I'd rather get new clothes instead of showing up to work, as some strumpet," she proclaimed. "Um, where did you come up with the word 'strumpet' and who ever said it was a sin to be good looking?" I asked. "Nothing I got for you suggests sexuality, no push-up bras, crop tops, or slit skirts. They're clothes, nothing more." "It doesn't matter what you think," Jill countered. "Whatever madness you thought you were accomplishing won't work. I really should call the pastor." "And tell him what, that I burned your clothes and bought you, normal clothes? Why don't we call everyone on the church roster?" I warned her. Jill balked at the prospect of having our family feud exposed. Jill sniffed, spun, and started to leave the room when she recalled the clothes I'd bought for her. She huffed and came back for them, looking at me very indignantly. When I went to help, she warned me off with a hateful glare. An hour later, as I began to despair over my actions, I heard Jill's bedroom door open and a crinkly crunch in the hall. Upon examination, I found one of the bags I'd purchased clothes in outside her door. Inside, folded up, were the other bags. Jill had put my clothes away in her drawers and closet. I counted that to be a small victory. At breakfast the next morning I endeavored to be very correct and polite as I complimented Jill on how nice she looked. She returned my platitudes with an angry glare and she left for work without saying a word. In her favor, when she learned her credit cards were toast she didn't break down and scream at me over the phone or miss work. That evening she did still slam the door to the garage loud enough to rattle windows on the other side of the house when she got home from work. "ZANE!" she screamed, "What did you do to my credit cards?" "Your replacements should be here by Saturday or Monday at the latest," I replied soothingly as she stormed up to me. "So," I went on, "did anyone compliment you on your looks today?" "What, I, that's not important," she muttered, then she changed tact. She came over to the sofa where I was reclining, knelt down, and took my hand. "Zane, you are falling into lust, degeneration, and degradation, sins of the flesh. You have to stop this." 'Stop what?' I wasn't precisely sure. "What you want me to do? Should we pray further on the matter? Last night I felt, something, but I still feel empty," I suggested. Jill's face lit up so I slipped past her and knelt beside her. Jill was unwittingly sexy as she sashayed forward on her knees to rest against the sofa. I reached out to her and she took my hand, then the praying began. What followed was a repetitive litany of me falling into lust and dark desires (clothes buying?). Dear departed Uncle Tim didn't even get an honorable mention which would have been surprising if he hadn't been such a total bastard to me. Jill's neglect I didn't quite understand. She'd always been loyal, dutiful, and supportive. It then occurred to me that I'd never seen him exert an ounce of human compassion toward Jill. I got up and ran to my bedroom, ending up on the bed. Jill padded along behind me after a minute. "Zane?" she wondered. "When is the last time you had sex with Uncle Tim?" I whispered so quietly that Jill struggled to understand me. "But, no, don't do this, Zane, don't fall into apostasy," Jill simpered. "I have a gift for you. It is something you want but I need you to answer the question," I offered. "What is the gift?" she asked, guardedly intrigued. "I can promise you no regrets," I countered. Jill weighed her options, turned, and left. "Dinner," Jill called to me an hour later. I dutifully went downstairs to the dining room to enjoy a mediocre meal in silence. We barely exchanged a single glance. As I got up to clean the table, cleaning was my chore, Jill spoke. "Seven years." I was pretty proud that I didn't fall over in shock. First off, in my teenage, hormone-addled mind, how could anyone go without sex for seven years? Next, how could someone with Jill as a wife not want to have sex at least once every seven hours? Finally, what was Tim doing in the lady-boy section of Bangkok when he found me that one time? I really feel like an idiot on occasion. "I saved your three favorite Sunday dresses," I rewarded her. Jill's eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Which ones? I mean, how did you know which ones were my favorites?" she pondered. "You told me, Aunt Jill. I do listen to you, ya know," I responded. She gave me the oddest look, as if I had just explained to her how Ruth slew Goliath, not David. "Thank you," she whispered. The first battle of the Witch, the Brat, and the Wardrobe was over. The war would go on. The next time we went grocery shopping (Jill decided that the less time I was left alone, the slower I would plummet to my eventual fiery demise) I caught her noticing guys giving her the once over and she liked it, of that I'm sure. How do I know this? She let me talk to the cute stock girl for fifteen seconds before reeling me in, which was long enough for her to write her number on the palm of my hand. I called her and asked if she wanted to go to a sorority party when the semester began. She informed me she was a rising senior in high school so I gave her my number and told her to call me on her eighteenth birthday if she was still interested. You can't win them all, immediately. FFU             Birds are made beautiful by their plumage but divine by their flight        Now to the college I was attending; Freedom Fellowship University (yes, that is F-FU if you stutter) is the Christian college in my new hometown. Jill read about them in online chat rooms and by communicating with some of her Christian social network gal pals. She heard they had a dress code and without checking on the specifics, she bought me a dozen sets of black slacks and white shirts guaranteed to mark me as a social leper. She signed me up for my classes. I opted for Pre-Med; she insisted I should go Pre-Law until I revealed my secret sinful desire to work for the ACLU, at which point she relented. She wanted me to play some sports, I suspect because she wanted me to have a safe hormonal outlet that didn't involve me touching women. I could have told her that dressed as I was, getting women (short of kidnapping) would be nearly impossible. The problem was, they didn't offer any of the traditional sports except for soccer and track and field. I felt that was odd but I decided to sign up for soccer tryouts anyway. I also signed up for Karate, though I had no idea what a Christian school would be teaching that for, plus Archery (I've never used a bow before), Marksmanship (I've never fired a gun either), and Orienteering (because everyone gets lost in suburban Virginia and has to subsist on squirrel and road kill, right?). I downright refused to have anything to do with the Competitive Bible Study Team. By the end of the admissions process I was beginning to think this was a school for some kind of uber-religious survivalists. Still, they accepted me on short notice and except for a tiny quirk in the online admissions form, I was sadly ready to go to college. It would be that tiny quirk that would change my life forever. There Must Be a Church! Before I could attend college there was one quibble to deal with and that was which church Jill and I would attend. I claimed to be partial to the Unitarians, mainly to watch Jill's face go from normal to pale to an angry beet red. Sometimes razzing her is too easy. Jill chose the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ after carefully weighing, considering, and then utterly disregarding my input. I guess I had to be happy they weren't snake handlers. On that first Sunday it was raining. I ended up having to run back into the house as Jill backed the car out of the garage and I took a header into a mud puddle in the lawn. Seeing how soaked I was, Jill allowed me to miss out on Sunday school. When I tried to get to the normal service my car wouldn't start (she'd insisted on buying me a used car, which I was now allowed to return for a new one). The second Sunday was a comedy of errors. The garage door opened halfway, then got stuck, and Jill gave the wrong address to the church family she desperately called to come pick us up. On the third Sunday I was sick, so sick that I missed the Sci-Fi movie classic of the week-(end) Saturday night, Vampire Zombie Overlords II. Jill normally lets me watch it because I told her it shows science in a bad light. I would like to point out that Jill isn't stupid but she does tend to believe that which is most convenient to her world view, in this case, Science = Bad. The fourth and final college-free Sunday, Buddy Jesus informed me that I had to go because no Act of God showed up to save me. It turned out that the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ was huge, one of those mega-churches and by the number of luxury cars in the parking lot, not one populated by the unwashed masses. Everyone was very, very friendly to the point where I refused to drink or eat anything they tried to force on me, fearing that I would become a drugged-out zombie filled with unconditional love and happiness toward the world. The one other weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any kids my age in the congregation. I had no Sunday school that day. I later learned this was the weekend of their Pre-College/High School Youth Retreat. Apparently everyone in this place acted as a herd. Before we left I met with Pastor William Penny, chief shepherd of this flock, and he wanted to be my pal. Jill was enraptured with the guy but somehow he came across as creepy to me. Will, Jill, and a few well-meaning parishioners ended up steering me to the Pastor's office (which was as big as Jill's huge kitchen). There my new buddy wanted me to sign some paperwork. Jill urged me to hurry up and get it over with and promised to take me to a nice steak house we'd seen but never been in, as if I was a small child easily pleased. Maybe I should have gone for pre-law because I ignored Jill and did read what they wanted me to sign. They wanted me to tithe, and not on my income, of which I had none, but on my net worth. Everyone around me looked hopeful and I couldn't help but smile as I picked up the pen and started laughing. When they began looking confused I laughed harder, and that made them displeased. I didn't pick up the pen to write; I picked it up so I could stab the first one to rush me. "Listen up, Pastor Bill, can I call you Pastor Bill?" I didn't wait on his reply. "I don't know you or anyone but Aunt Jill in this room," I chuckled, "and I imagine you are all terribly nice folks, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I give millions of dollars to people I know nothing about." "We are doing God's work," Pastor Bill assured me, "and please call me Pastor William." "Please," Jill pleaded, "this is what your Uncle Tim would want." For Jill's sake I didn't laugh out loud once again. Tim gave me billions of mosquito bites, outdoor plumbing, and ass-whooping s on a regular basis so all I felt I owed good ol' Tim was putting a heavy stone on his grave so that he didn't rise up from the dead when the End Times came. In retrospect, Tim did me one favor; he taught me the ability to be verbally evasive when needed. "Aunt Jill, as Uncle Tim told me, being a Christian is a matter of Faith working through the mind and hands. It is my Christian duty to make sure that his legacy (really my Mom and Dad's) is placed where God wants it. Uncle Tim would make me pray deeply to the Almighty before taking such a momentous step, so pray I shall." Pastor Bill looked disappointed in me, which was a poor mask for his unsatisfied greed. Jill and the rest of the flock seem to have bought my act and that was the victory I needed to win right then. On the way back home Jill was pleased as punch. I'd expressed to her new friends what a wise saint good ol' Uncle Tim had been. This was the day I had to move into my dorm room on FFU's campus so I didn't have much time to dwell on everything that had happened. Barbie Lynn Masters, Dorm Mother To say that I was pretty depressed when I began moving into college would have been an understatement. I met some nice girls who were also moving into my dorm but I wasn't much in the mood for talking. I found my room but they had my name wrong. Not only was I not Zane they even got Glenn wrong; they misspelled it as Glenda. I hadn't been unpacking fifteen minutes before this hottie breezed in asking if I was Glenda's brother. "Sure," I joked, "I'm Zane." "Can I see some ID? I'm the Dorm Mother," she asked pleasantly. I showed her my driver's license which read 'G. Zane Braxton'. "And you are?" I inquired. "Barbie Lynn Masters. Do you live close by?" she prodded. I looked around my room (which I shared with an as-of-yet unseen roomie), shrugged, and replied, "Yes. I live about a mile and a half away, just inside city limits," I played along. Couldn't she see that it was my name on the luggage in my room and I'd already unpacked? "Can we count on seeing a lot more of you?" she purred, stepping up into my personal space. With her four-inch pumps, she was an inch taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet her gaze. "Unless you have a girlfriend, of course," she demurred. "I don't have a girlfriend but I'm looking for one," I grinned back. I wasn't really lying; I was looking for lots of girlfriends. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" "Oh, no," she assured me. "I took a Purity Pledge and I have a fianc so I can't be in a causal relationship with a boy, though being a 'friend' of a student I'm responsible for is fine." She licked her lips. My understanding of her convoluted reasoning was short-circuited by her D plus cleavage, perfect teeth, long light-golden hair, soft bedroom blue eyes, and blemish free, tanned skin. I've never considered myself terribly bashful. I hadn't been with a welcoming and available female in two months; she was right there in my face, so I grabbed Barbie's ass subtly, pulled her close, and began kissing her. At first Barbie seemed to be all talk and no action, but that lasted all of five seconds before she was all over me with our tongues intertwining and our hands going over each other's backs and asses. In a flash I had my hands up her pleated skirt, inside her plain white panties, and was massaging each muscular ass cheek separately and vigorously while my lips left hers and migrated to her neck and ear with kisses and bites, all of which seemed to really excite Barbie Lynn. She was moaning and grinding against me like a teenager coming down from a forty-eight hour unresolved porno binge. Her left hand slid around to the front of my jeans and touched my crotch where I was rapidly coming to the fullness of life. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she began stroking me up and down. "Tell me that's not a rolled up sock." "Huh? What? No, that is all me. Why do you ask?" I mumbled between licks and kisses. "Oh, some boys can be very dishonest," she sighed from past experience. "Does it hurt?" "No, it feels fine," I assured her. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt just a little bit?" she persisted as she groped my bulge. Something clued me in. "Actually, it does hurt a little bit," I guessed. Barbie Lynn broke our embrace, padded silently over to the door, took a quick look out, then shut it. She was back in my arms in record time. "In that case, let me see it," she grinned. "How does a blowjob jive with your Purity Pledge?" I stupidly wondered out loud. "Oh," she beamed an angelic radiance up at me as she slid down my body and unzipped my pants, our eyes locked together, "a blow job is sinful and done out of lust but relieving your pain is blessed and done out of love." "I feel myself getting closer to spiritual fulfillment every second I'm with you," I breathed huskily as she pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my manhood. Barbie tentatively, with a bit of fear showing, licked the tip of my cock. I let her get used to me before resting a hand on her head. She responded by slowly engulfing my cockhead, which felt freaking awesome after my long dry spell (please remember I had virtually non-stop sex for two and a half years). She bobbed slightly while pumping my shaft rapidly with one hand and tickling my balls with the other. I tried to push a little bit but Barbie gagged. I guessed she wasn't too skilled at this but hey, everyone starts somewhere. After five minutes she was taking more than half of my length in and doing so hungrily. "I hope you are not close to coming," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "Actually, I'm feeling greedy," I responded. She looked up at me, head still bobbing. "I can sense your pain and feel I should do something about it," I explained. Now she looked confused so I backed up, pulled Barbie up by her waist and kissed her once more. I gracefully walked my hand down her waist and hip to her crotch. With a sharp intake of breath by Barbie, she melted into me and bit my shoulder. Next I spun us around and pushed her back on the bed at the corner, splaying her out for me as her bosom bounced sensually and enticingly. "What's on your mind?" Barbie asked with wide eyes. "I want a taste," I grinned evilly, which only turned her on more. I fell between her outstretched knees. I made eye contact with her as she propped up on her elbows and my hands went to her panty waistband. I grinned, she blushed, and the panties came flying off. Barbie squeaked then slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. "Use my pillows to prop up your back," I directed Barbie Lynn since she clearly wanted to watch. I maneuvered Barbie into a suitable position so that I was kneeling on the floor with Barbie's silky smooth legs spread to either side. Barbie Lynn was propped up so that she could watch me work. I got the feeling she was used to some level of stimulation, just not from a guy. I could deal with that. "Maybe we shouldn't do this now, or go back to my place where it is safer?" she asked. "I'm too hungry for you right now; your scent is intoxicating," I finished up saying, and then I went in. I didn't rush things because every first time should be special. My right hand traced the line along the sides and rear of Barbie Lynn's thighs. My left hand traced the line over her pubic area to her stomach that finally ended with her left breast. "Hurry," she panted. I knew she had somewhere to be but I was aware she could use some stress relief too. Barbie reached down with a hand to control my left hand and head but I was obeying my instincts. By the time she made up her mind to stop me, I overwhelmed Barbie with a pleasurable, mind warping first orgasm. The noise brought a few students sneaking in to take a peak. Once I had a semblance of control over her, I began a series of actions to excite her whole body. On the second orgasm she wrapped her legs around my head and nearly crushed it. While I lapped up her juices, I decided to follow that up by kissing Barbie and giving her some of her own fluids to taste, a trick new to her. I kept my cock sheathed, though all three of Barbie's holes looked delightful. I figured she wasn't ready yet but I did manage to take off her shirt in the process and fondling and suckling at her magnificent breasts. After the third and fourth orgasms, Barbie passed out, and when she woke up, she whispered to me that she wanted my cock in her mouth and cunt. Purity Pledge? What Purity Pledge? Barbie Lynn confided in me that she'd sucked cock before and thought she was quite good at it, and that a few men had temped her cunt and ass with real penetration but all she had done so far was pleasure herself with toys and with the aid of other (female) students here at school. She was still technically a virgin (no boy parts had penetrated her cunt) but she'd done 'everything else.' Was she or was she not an anal virgin? My money was on virginity. Barbie was pleased that I was going to her church (it was highly popular at the college, she told me), almost as pleased as I was to find her so receptive and hungry for more sex. I told her she needed sexier underwear and that I would gladly go shopping with her for some in case she wanted to model any (yes, I know they don't let you model underwear). While we talked I helped her get dressed, though we couldn't find her panties. We slipped out after that, Barbie to tend to her girls and me to go to my Aunt's. I told her I'd see her tomorrow. Barbie laughed as if she didn't believe me. As I left, I began to appreciate the guy: girl ratio of this place because it was looking very good in my favor. My evening with Jill passed uneventfully; we stayed up late as Jill suddenly realized she was going to be alone for the first time in years so I didn't end up sneaking quietly into my dorm room until well past midnight. The Journey Begins. Day One, It's a What? My first day of college began with a six a.m. wake-up alarm in our room. Both my roommate and I sat up at the same time. We looked at each other and the sheets failed to conceal we apparently both slept shirtless. "Hi. You are a girl," I got off first. "And you are a guy," she replied indignantly. "What are you doing in my room? I mean, why did they give me a female roommate?" I countered. "Ah, are you joking?" she asked incredulously. Clearly I wasn't, and that realization made her grin mischievously. "Where is Glenda?" she inquired next. "Ugh," I sighed. "When I was registered their system misspelled my name. My first name is Glenn, thus the Glenda, but I go by Zane, my middle name. What about you?" "Whoops. I'm Rio Talon and this is going to be wicked," she giggled. "I have to admit I never thought I'd meet someone like you at FFU." "You don't see quite the hardcore fundamentalist/survivalist type either," I responded. "Ha!" she grunted. "You got me. It was either this or three years at a minimum security prison in Arizona," she confessed. She didn't volunteer what she would have done time for and it was really none of my business. "I need to shower," I changed the subject. "I'll go with you," Rio volunteered as she slipped out of bed, and yes, she was naked, and cleverly and artfully shaved with several delicate chevrons pointing down. She also had a black tattoo of the name Lilith going from the right hip along the bikini line, definitely not Church issue. I went to the closet, got a robe, towel, and bathroom kit. Rio brazenly watched me move around. "Body-conscious much?" she chuckled. "Rio, I spent the last two years bathing down at the river with two hundred of my closest neighbors. Trying to cover up gets old really fast," I grinned back at her. "Does my body disgust you?" "'Disgust' isn't the word I was going to use," Rio said as she licked her lips and also got ready for the bathroom. "Now, let's get you shaved before, the bathroom gets flooded with people. By the way," she tossed me Barbie's missing undies, "are these yours?" "Booty from my panty raid; please don't turn me in," I chuckled, as I caught them, then stashed them in my backpack, hopefully to return to Barbie Lynn later. Rio laughed again. As I suspected, not only did I get assigned a female roommate but I was on a female floor, which earned me more than a few shocked looks. Since Rio stuck close to me, she earned her own share of looks, but these were more scornful; Rio ate it up. I still couldn't decide whether I'd miss Rio or not when I got my new room assignment. The two girls in the showers ignored Rio and I when we came in so I was able to shave in peace and get under a steamy shower without the expected shrieks. Only when they dressed in their robes and put on their glasses did things change. Their looks were best expressed as 'a boy saw me naked!' followed by 'A boy saw me naked, ' and ended up with, 'A boy saw me naked and he liked what he saw.' I get hard when the wind blows, anywhere around the globe. They fled in a fit of giggles and I safely exited the bathroom before another girl entered. It was hardly unforeseen that my attire made Rio laugh but when she suggested black horn-rimmed glasses would really complete the nerd-look, I had to laugh too. I noted her regulation skirt appeared to be a bit higher above the knee than was prudent with a pronounced lack of underwear. Rio confessed that her parents tossed all her 'stripper' wear when they shipped her off and she wasn't going to wear the 'granny' panties they had put in place of her G-strings. The trek cross-campus to the Dining Hall would have been more enlightening if Rio had not lured me into an engrossing conversation. Remember now, I had been isolated from mainstream Western pop culture for over two years and had a lot of catching up to do. We grabbed some trays of breakfast; then, at Rio's insistence, we headed outside to eat pretty much by ourselves, or so we hoped. "Professor, inquired this cute brunette with pig tails, dimples, and into pushing her tits in my face; I barely noticed she was backed up by three other girls. "Huh?" I questioned. "Braxton," Rio spoke over me. "Could you tell me, where the, um, Clegger Science Building is, Professor Braxton?" She lied pathetically. My first thoughts were, 'why is she wearing such a thin white blouse two-sizes too small?' and wondering 'when is this thread holding that central button in place going to give up on its hopeless struggle and let her boobs pop out?' Then I became curious why she called me 'professor'. "It is right over there," I said, as I stood up, put my hand on the small of her back, and pointed the way with my other hand. The location of the building was blindingly obvious since this is not a huge campus. If things weren't awkward enough, Ms. Brunette twisted, rubbed her hardening nipples against my chest, and asked, "There?" "No," I corrected by whispering into her ear, causing her to wiggle against me. I took her forearm, lingering my touch on the pulse of her wrist before directing it to the proper angle. "I would walk you there," I added, "but we have to go to the auditorium soon." "Thank you, Professor Braxton." She wiggled a third time. "It is really a pity I don't have any of your classes. What do you teach?" "He's a Biblical Archeologist," Rio interrupted, "specializing in Early Christian Erotic Art and Rituals." I felt Ms. Brunette have a micro-orgasm over that piece of fantastical news. "Are you still taking on students?" Brunette panted to me. Rio jumped up. "Whoops! Look at the time!" exclaimed Rio, "Professor, you have to go, Right Now!" With that, she dragged me away from Ms. Brunette and her girl posse and across campus. "What the hell was that about and why did she call me Professor?" I hissed to Rio as we came to the auditorium for our first assembly. "Oh, it must be some Southern thing, sort of like the English calling men 'Governor'," she lied convincingly. How do I now know she lied? It will become obvious.   I took a seat with Rio amongst the sea of students and it was just my luck that we were surrounded by girls once more. I really wasn't in the mood to have them gawk at me so I slumped down and kept a low profile. The auditorium sounded full-up and there was a magnitude of teachers and such on the stage. When a stately, attractive, yet demanding and stern tall woman with long grey hair worked up in a bun stepped up to the podium, the hall grew silent. First she led us in prayer, which I found odd because normally at this level of fundamentalism, women couldn't lead men in prayer, but I could have cared less. She welcomed the rising seniors first, then worked down the list until she recognized the new class of freshmen, reminding them of their 'Handmaiden Duties,' whatever that was. I looked to Rio who was stifling to suppress some dark glee, undoubtedly at my expense. The Chancellor of FFU worked us through some of what I assumed was normal school crap plus a reminder to review with diligence their code of moral and ethical behaviors and the names of their spiritual guidance counselors in case they felt wickedness overcoming them. Considering the thin white blouses and the short, pleated plaid skirts, yours truly and the other men on campus were going to be scoring like mad, morals and ethics be damned. A closing prayer ended the meeting and we dispersed like good little sheep heading for our first class of the semester. Rio and I both had English Literature but in different rooms so she was kind/sadistic enough to drop me by my room before heading her own way. I walked in and took a middle seat. Once again all the girls looked at me funny when they came in and I couldn't miss the fact that in a classroom size of twenty, we had nineteen girls and only one guy, me. I was mulling this over (I'm actually a smart guy but I admit, I hadn't been showing it too much recently) when our teacher came in. Her name was Ms. Goodswell (no lie) and she was a gorgeous brunette with breasts of greater proportions than Barbie Lynn's, and the rest just got lusher. Ms.  Goodswell leaned against the front of her large wooden writing desk and used her tablet to scroll down the roll call. I was number three. "Braxton," her sugary sweet voice drawled out. "Glenda Braxton." I shifted in my seat. "Here," I said in a clear masculine voice, "but I go by Zane." Ms.  Goodswell looked up over her reading glasses, expecting something other than me. As she looked at me her eyes grew larger, and she looked, and she looked. "What are you wearing?" she asked crisply. "What my Aunt told me was proper school attire, Ms. Goodswell," I replied tentatively. "Proper attire is clearly outlined, white blouse and a pleated blue and gold tartan skirt with white knee sox and black shoes. Men wear pants; women wear skirts," she clarified. I imagine my jaw dropped open at that one. Finally, I stood up so she could get a good look at me. "I'm dressed correctly, then I'm a guy," I insisted. Ms. Goodswell had looked annoyed but now she looked pissed. She strode boldly toward me, heels clicking against the marble floor. "So you insist that you are a man, do you?" she snapped. Before I could do anything but nod she slapped a cupped hand against my crotch. I coughed in pain. I became aroused despite the mild discomfort because I was now gazing down into Ms. Goodswell's ample bosom. Her eyes went from angry to utter shock. "You are a man," she whispered in horror. "What are you doing in my class?" I reached into my book bag and got my schedule, letting her gaze on it. I noticed her hand stayed on my crotch. "Nine a.m., English Lit. 101 in room 204, Denning Hall V. Goodswell," I read out loud. Ms. Goodswell read it over while she massaged my growing shaft; subconsciously or not, I wasn't sure. "Very well," she said decisively. She turned back and returned to the roll. As I sat down I had that creepy feeling that everyone else was staring at me, or more precisely, my Goodswell-inspired hard on. After that little bit of drama the actual class was okay. Ms. Goodswell was pretty bright and made our upcoming journey into the works of a bunch of old dead British guys sound fun. When the bell rang we got up and started to file out but Ms. Goodswell motioned me to wait for the others to leave us alone. It didn't work out that way; the other girls hovered right outside the door. "Okay, Mr. Braxton, what are you trying to prove?" she accused me with some real heat. "Please, Ms. Goodswell, believe me; I haven't a clue what is going on here. I woke up with a girl in my room this morning, I began. "You had a girl in your room this morning? That didn't take you long," she said bitterly. "No, wait; it was my assigned roommate, Rio Talon, and she was on her side of the room. It is okay because they accidently stuck me on a girl's floor in the dorm because there were girls in the showers too," I continued. "Didn't you thing that was a bit odd?" she asked suspiciously. "Not really, ma'am. I've spent the last two years with missionaries in rural Thailand; I'm used to bathing with naked women all the time. Initially, I figured this was some sort of bureaucratic snafu but after doing my own quick census of your class, I think I've missed something crucial," I explained. "Mr. Braxton, Zane, this is an all-girls school; men are not allowed. We can't even employ a man under the age of forty-five," she informed me while studying my expression. While my cock would have done summersaults of joy, my brain was looking at my access to my trust fund going down the toilet. "I apologize. I'm pretty sure my Aunt Jill didn't know and I assure you, I was ignorant of this fact. What do we do now?" I sighed. "I believe you, Mr., .Zane. No one would use this as an excuse after going through all the trouble to sneak in here. For now, you continue to your classes and I'll inform your other instructors of this, extraordinary event. Expect to spend lunch with the Chancellor so that we can extricate you from this situation. Can I rely on you to be good in the interim?" "I'll do my best," I promised. She dismissed me and began using her phone. When I slipped out of the room, my classmates made room enough for me to make my way down the hall. "Zane!" a young female voice called out. I turned around to see Ms. Brunette. "Is it true you are a freshman here?" I was sure she would be pissed for the whole 'Professor' gag Rio had played and I'd unwittingly gone along with. "Yes," I confessed. She'd assumed I was a teacher because I was male and I hadn't corrected her. "Kiss me!" she beamed hungrily. That was not what I expected but I reacted quickly and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. Ms. Brunette looked upset. "You can do better than that," she commanded. Again, not what I expected; I put my book bag down, took hers off her shoulder and placed it next to mine. I started off with a repeat of the last kiss but instead of that being the ending point, I used it as a foundation to build upon. I slowly drew her in; she pulled her arms up between us and cupped my face as I dipped her with enough tongue action to make our steamy embrace a thermographic exploration of lust. We kissed for over a minute before I brought her up and let her go. "Better?" I murmured to her. Ms. Brunette nodded dreamily. As I retrieved my book bag from the floor I realized I was adrift in a sea of lonely young women. I could now empathize with that lost baby seal who found itself surrounded by a pod of killer whales. "Kiss me!" insisted a blonde. "No, me; I was here first." "I'm a senior; I go first," demanded a breathtaking black woman. I didn't know what was going on and I had no idea how to deal with this bizarre situation but all that was taken out of my hands by the next noise I heard. "Get off me, bitch," I heard Rio shout out, followed by a slap and her scream. Rio was hardly my friend, in fact, she had used me for her own personal amusement for the entire time I'd known her, but she was my roommate, an outsider, and I was sure no one else would come to her aid. I shouldered my way in the directions of her screams and sobs, parting the last few girls separating us. Rio was on her stomach on the floor with three girls gathered over her. Closest to me was one with thick, wavy black hair and dark skin who had her foot pushing down on Rio's ass. The second one, who appeared to be the leader, was a black girl with shiny black hair in an intricate weave and was bouncing on Rio's back, yanking her hair back painfully, and was taunting Rio, saying she was supposed to be a good little beast of burden as well as mocking her as a 'felon'. The last tormentor was the only one facing me, though she was preoccupied with holding Rio's arms forward so she couldn't reach back to scratch the ringleader. It wasn't hard for me to figure out what to do. When Weave started bouncing up, I swept the legs out from under the other wavy-haired girl, sending her toppling backwards. I then put a boot to the black girl's ass, propelling her into the spectators on the far side of us. I didn't even bother with girl number three. I grabbed Rio by the arm and yanked her up and swung her behind me. It turned out to be a good choice because when the black girl back-flipped up in one fluid move, she landed in a martial arts fighting stance. I had a fight on my hands, or would have if the bell hadn't rung. As it was, the black girl looked both outraged and shocked when she took in my gender and my counter-stance. A flood of girls suddenly separated us. Rio took the opportunity to grab her book bag, then my hand, and together we bolted to our next class which was, oddly enough, Biblical Archeology but without the procreation parts. Our professor, Mrs. Carradine, treated me a bit coldly but the attention directed my way by the student body was anything but. I had barely pulled out my book when the girl behind me tapped my shoulder and slipped me a note. You will take my book bag to lunch and eat lunch with me. Dove Foster I furrowed my brow and showed the note to Rio who was sitting next to me. She smiled and whispered, "Handmaiden's Duty," in a condescending tone. "Didn't you read your handbook?" Any further conversation was cut short by Mrs. Carradine's blistering glare. For some reason, Buddy Jesus kept me safe from anymore female attention until the class ended and I began to make my way out. I took some comfort that Rio stayed close to my side. My Social Secretary "Zane. Zane Braxton, do you mind if I call you Zane?" babbled a shorter, slender girl with shoulder length black hair and glasses as she grabbed my elbow in a death grip from behind. "You can't ask him to do anything until he steps out of class," Rio cautioned the newcomer. Now I had to decide whether or not I'd be a slave to Dove for an hour because technically she appeared to be in violation of the rules, which I knew no

The Titans play at the Raiders on Sunday.  We re-live the Bowers vs Latham debate from the draft last year.  Did the Titans make the right choice?  How much of an impact can Latham have this season?  Nashville Predators HC Andrew Brunette hops on the show for his weekly visit as the team opens the season tonight vs Columbus.  We have the Rob Rant from Robby.

Braden Gall and Emma Lingan make our official season predictions for 2025-26. How should Andrew Brunette be evaluated? What is Barry Trotz plan? How should fans balance Brady Martin hype with rational expectations? Where do the Preds finish in the Central Division? ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Watch all episodes on YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Sign up to Lower Broad Hockey⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Brought to you by: SinkersBeverages.com ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Join The In Crowd⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ today! And ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Shotgun Willie's BBQ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

First, Emily and Shane are giving an update on Diddy’s sentencing and the killer that was finally identified in the Yogurt Shop Murder case. Then, we’re getting into the case of Ellen Greenberg. This first-grade teacher was found by her fiancé with 20 stab wounds, and it was declared a suicide. With all the evidence that’s been presented, is it possible this was a homicide and the killer is still walking free?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

On this episode of the It's All Your Fault podcast presented by Farm Bureau Insurance of Tennessee, Jeremy K. Gover welcomes in Nick Kieser of Lower Broad Hockey to discuss: What do we make of the 2025-26 Nashville Predators opening night roster?What kind of start do the Preds need to have to lower the pressure on Head Coach Andrew Brunette's job?What does 5th overall pick Brady Martin need to do in order to stick at the NHL level?Was is it a good choice to send Tanner Molendyk to the Milwaukee Admirals?Follow our host on Twitter at @ItsGovertime, our guest at @KieserNick and the show at @IAYFpodcast !

Nashville Predators General Manager Barry Trotz joins DVD to discuss all things Nashville Predators, Brady Martin, Luke Evangelista signing, Juuse Saros struggles, Brunette's hot seat, and more

Emily and Shane are sitting down with Amanda Knox to discuss the realities of wrongful convictions, false confessions and media scrutiny. They dive into the new Hulu series “The Twisted Tale of Amanda Knox” and her partnership with Monica Lewinsky for this project. Plus, what does Amanda think about the prosecutor who incriminated her? Who would she like an apology from the most? Does she still feel the weight of this crime today?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In Episode 6 we take a shoddy look at "My Favorite Brunette" and discover why Bob Hope is . Along with analyzing "My Favorite Brunette", we mention “My Favorite Blond”, “My Favorite Spy” the “Road To” films", specifically “Road to Bali”. Next up we wrap up the series and figure out what we want to do next. You can always contact us at theshoemakerbrothers@gmail.com or Shodcast@gmail.com for that sweet audience interaction you are craving. If we remember to check, we'll respond. Go to patreon.com/TheShoemakerBrothers to support the show.

When a quadruple homicide occurs in Austin, Texas in 1991 at an “I Can’t Believe it’s Yogurt” shop, it results in multiple false confessions and an innocent man on death row. Emily and Shane are discussing the infamous cold case that has yet to be solved due to a lack of DNA evidence, a crime scene set on fire & police narrowing in on the wrong suspects.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

When two girls are murdered in a small Indiana town, police are shocked to find a grainy video of the killer on one of their phones… After 5 years, investigators finally “solved” the case, but did they have all the evidence? Did the convicted killer actually do it or is there a much darker conspiracy at play?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Emily and Shane are diving into the case that’s featured in Netflix’s latest documentary, “Unknown Number: The High School Catfish”. **SPOILER** Kendra Licari was cyberbullying her own daughter, but why? Was it Munchausen’s by internet or an obsession with her daughter’s boyfriend? Why wasn’t she charged with child abuse? We’re dissecting this case through the lens of parents and lawyers alike. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode of NHL Wraparound, Neil Smith and Vic Morren examine one of the most baffling underperformers of the 2024–25 season: the Nashville Predators.Coming off a year that began with high expectations after blockbuster free-agent signings, the Preds collapsed to a 30–44–8 record and were never competitive. Now, as they enter 2025–26 with virtually the same roster, hosts Neil and Vic ask the hard question: What exactly is Barry Trotz building?The team didn't win a playoff series since 2018, and despite shedding cap space and expectations, the front office made only marginal changes — none of which suggest a clear direction or uptick in performance. Is this just a mulligan for Trotz and Brunette? Or the beginning of a longer identity crisis?

241 Host Mix I Progressive Tales with Igor D. Tracklist: 1. Kiaro (AM) feat. BRUNETTE. - 404: Love Not Found (Dub Mix) [Manual Music] 2. Hernan del Azar - Marginal (Original Mix) [RKP] 3. Brann (AR) - Thorn (Original Mix) [Particles] 4. Tantum - Out Of Nowhere (Subandrio Remix) [Early Morning] 5. Mike Rish - Sunset on Mars (Original Mix) [Meanwhile] 6. EMPHI - Walk With Me (Original Mix) [Meanwhile] 7. Guy J - Evo (Original Mix) [Early Morning] 8. Alex O'Rion - Lucida (Original mix) [Solis Records] 9. Das Pharaoh x VUMA - Morgana (Paul Thomas Extended Remix) [UV] 10. Kamilo Sanclemente - Astronauts Nightmares (Nicolas Viana Extended Remix) [Univack] 11. Gai Barone - Hemels (Original Mix) [Meanwhile] • Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/igor_d • Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/_igor__d/ ___ • Visit our website: www.progresivnasuza.com • Follow us for the latest updates: linktr.ee/progresivnasuza • More info for you: office@progresivnasuza.com • Send us your demo: records@progresivnasuza.com • Elevation Series Inquiry: podcast@progresivnasuza.com

What does it take to go from waiting tables to writing chart-topping hits for country music's biggest stars? In this compelling conversation, songwriter Blake Pendergrass opens up about his remarkable year since his last appearance on the podcast – a year that's seen him secure 15 cuts on Morgan Wallen's latest album (including his first #1 hit), pen songs for Jelly Roll, Tucker Wetmore, and Post Malone, and have eight singles charting simultaneously on country radio.Behind these impressive statistics lies a deeply human story of perseverance through doubt. Pendergrass shares how after 13 years in Nashville with minimal success, his faith kept him going when logic suggested otherwise. The emotional high point comes when he discusses "The Dealer," a song he wrote entirely by himself during a period of uncertainty. "I wasn't really planning on writing a full song," he reveals, his voice breaking slightly. "I was in a season of feeling defeated... I sat down essentially to prove to myself I can still write songs." That vulnerable moment produced a powerful track that became one of his proudest accomplishments.The conversation delivers fascinating insights into the mechanics of modern country songwriting – from the collaborative process of creating Morgan Wallen's "Just In Case" with multiple established writers to pushing genre boundaries with Tucker Wetmore's "Brunette." Pendergrass explains how writing changes when working with artists at different career stages and how he approaches rooms with multiple strong creative voices. His perspective on balancing artistic exploration with commercial sensibility provides valuable wisdom for creators in any field.Whether you're an aspiring songwriter, a music industry professional, or simply a fan curious about how your favorite songs come together, this episode offers an authentic glimpse into both the craft and the heart behind today's biggest country hits. Listen now to experience the stories behind songs that are shaping the soundtrack of modern country music.

In hour two of the Chase and Big Joe Show, the guys discussed the upcoming college football matchups this week. The guys spoke with McGavock Head Football Coach Fred Brunette about last week's game against Maplewood and how his team is preparing for Hunters Lane this week. The guys talked with Austin Peay Head Football Coach Jeff Faris about Austin Peay Football and their upcoming game against MTSU.

The guys spoke with McGavock Head Football Coach Fred Brunette about last week's game against Maplewood and how his team is preparing for Hunters Lane this week.

Amanda Knox was wrongfully convicted of her roommate’s death but what chain of events led to her arrest? Emily and Shane discuss the media frenzy that turned everyone against her, the corrupt police department and the “evidence” that proved nothing. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We’re giving you a breakdown of why Erik and Lyle Menendez have been denied parole. Is there another avenue that can lead to their release? Plus, Jillian Michaels has been vocal about Netflix’s latest “Biggest Loser” documentary and the lies against her. What’s Jillian’s defense and will she sue? See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Buckle up for this week's episode of TL's Road House! Host Tracy Lawrence welcomes skyrocketing country music star, Tucker Wetmore. In the episode, Tucker shares stories of his first red carpet and the making of his debut album ‘What Not To.' From meeting the group of writers that have become his close friends to hometown fishing buddies, Tracy finds common ground with the young performer. Now amassing over 1 billion streams globally, joining Thomas Rhett on his Better in Boots Tour and scoring his first No. 1 at country radio this year, the “Brunette” singer has been turning heads with no intention of slowing down. Believe it or not, Wetmore even admits rumors circulating that he and Zach Top are cousins.. are true! Listen in today for a lively conversation with one of Nashville's favorite newcomers!

This week, we’re talking about the Long Island serial killer that went unidentified for over a decade despite 11 bodies being discovered. Plus, we’re going over Diddy’s new motion for a retrial.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Emily and Shane are in Tahoe at a beautiful Vrbo! They’re giving the latest updates on the gruesome Idaho murders, the Menendez brother’s potential release and Blake Lively’s withdrawn subpoenas.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Emily and Shane are going over the case from Netflix’s latest docuseries: “Amy Bradley Is Missing”. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We’re diving into the subject of Netflix’s documentary “A Deadly American Marriage”, which follows the story of Jason Corbett’s murder.Plus, we have updates on Bryan Kohberger, Denise Richards and Justin Bieber & Scooter Braun.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.