Podcasts about Charleston

First things first, Stacy debuts a new look (are you watching on Youtube or what?) Secondly, Erin + Stacy catch up and cover all the exciting things they've been up to from attending live auctions to exploring the vibrant art scene in Charleston, they share their adventures and the joy of saying "yes" to new experiences. Dive into candid discussions about real estate challenges, the importance of staying engaged, and the value of interesting conversations. Tune in for laughter, insights, and a reminder to live life to the fullest. From all of us at Between Two Brokers, may your contracts be air tight and your offers be in cash.

A double year in review by Stiggs McQueen. -Holidays, Shows and the upcoming new year. -Cover songs, permissions and more! Correction- I said the thumb photo was from the let it happen artwork but it was from the 10 years and running back side artwork. Any questions or comments 1-360-830-6660 MXPX is coming! 2026 JAN with The Suicide Machines -Friday January 9 - Vancouver, BC Commodore Ballroom -Saturday January 10 - Seattle, WA at the Showbox SOLD OUT!!!!! -Friday January 23 - Santa Cruz, CA at the Catalyst -Saturday January 24 - San Francisco,CA at the Fillmore MAR -Thursday March 26 - Washington DC at 9:30 Club -Friday March 27 - Norfolk, VA at The Norva -Saturday March 28 - Charlotte, NC at The Fillmore -Sunday March 29 - Charleston, SC at Charleston Music Hall APRIL  Saturday April 11 - Denver, CO at Mission Ballroom w/Goldfinger, Zebrahead and Home Grown https://linktr.ee/Mikeherrerapodcast Leave a voicemail- 360-830-6660 --------------------- Check out the new MxPx album 'Find A Way Home' at MxPx.com and streaming everywhere now! Sterling By Music Man Mike Herrera Signature StingRay Electric Bass Guitar - Orange Creamsicle MIKE HERRERA SIGNATURE SERIES BASS OG Listen or watch "Linoleum" here MXPX - Self Titled Deluxe Edition If you like the podcast- Subscribe, rate and review on Apple. Support what I do at MXPX.com and also add MXPX and Mike Herrera to your music libraries on whatever streaming platfrom you use. Producing and editing by Bob McKnight. @Producer_Bob

Find the grave of Annabel Lee and you find the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe!   In this episode, a hand-drawn map pulls us through a locked iron gate into Charleston's most overgrown churchyard, where legends gather like mist and names disappear into leaves. A lady in white wanders the paths. Sixty-four people have collapsed before this very gate.   We follow the trail of Annabel Lee—the girl Poe loved, or invented, or summoned—and uncover the stranger story beneath the legend: a visiting scholar who survived war and exile, stood before Juliet's Tomb in Verona, and quietly planted a grave that may never have existed.   The map points toward a burial—but the real treasure may be hidden elsewhere. What if the grave was a lie but the lie was true?   Sources:   The Ghosts of Charleston by Julian Buxton Edgar Allan Poe's Charleston by  Christopher Byrd Downey   A History Lover's Guide to Charleston by Christopher Byrd Downey   Unburied Treasure: Edgar Allan Poe in the South Carolina Lowcountry Scott Peeples, Michelle Van Parys Southern Cultures, Vol. 22, No. 2   Haunted Charleston by Sarah Pitzer   Nevermore! Edgar Allan Poe- The Final Mystery by Julian Wiles Source for Alexander Lenard: Primary Sources by Alexander Lenard   Die Kuh auf dem Bast (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1963) The Valley of the Latin Bear (New York, 1965) - English translation Am Ende der Via Condotti: Römische Jahre (München: DTV Verlag, 2017) - translated by Ernö Zeltner Stories of Rome (Budapest: Corvina, 2013) - translated by Mark Baczoni O Vale Do Fim Do Mundo (São Paulo: Cosac Naify, 2013) - translated by Paulo Schiller Die römische Küche (München, 1963) Sieben Tage Babylonisch (Stuttgart, 1964) A római konyha (1986) Winnie Ille Pu (Latin translation of Winnie-the-Pooh) Völgy a világ végén s más történetek (Budapest: Magvető, 1973)   Secondary Sources - Books and Academic Articles   Siklós, Péter. "Von Budapest bis zum Tal am Ende der Welt: Sándor Lénárds romanhafter Lebensweg" (online) Siklós, Péter. "The Klára Szerb – Alexander Lenard Correspondence." The Hungarian Quarterly 189 (2008): 42-61 Sachs, Lynne. "Alexander Lenard: A Life in Letters." The Hungarian Quarterly 199 (Autumn 2010): 93-104 Lénárt-Cheng, Helga. "A Multilingual Monologue: Alexander Lenard's Self-Translated Autobiography in Three Languages." Hungarian Cultural Studies 7 (January 2015) Vajdovics, Zsuzsanna. "Gli anni romani di Sándor Lénárd." Annuario: Studi e Documenti Italo-Ungheresi (Roma-Szeged, 2005) Vajdovics, Zsuzsanna. "Alexander Lenard: Portrait d'un traducteur émigrant." Atelier de Traduction 9 (2008): 185-191 Rapcsányi, László & Szerb, Klára. "Who Was Alexander Lenard? An Interview with Klára Szerb." The Hungarian Quarterly 189 (2008): 26-30 Lenard, Alexander. "A Few Words About Winnie Ille Pu." The Hungarian Quarterly 199 (2010): 87-92 Humblé, Philippe & Sepp, Arvi. "'Die Kriege haben mein Leben bestimmt': Alexander Lenard's Narratives of Brazilian Exile." In Hermann Gätje / Sikander Singh (Eds.), Grenze als Erfahrung und Diskurs (Tübingen: Narr Francke Attempto, 2018) Badel, Keuly Dariana. "Writing oneself and the other: A biography of Alexander Lenard (1951-1972)." Proceedings of the XXVI National History Symposium – ANPUH (São Paulo, July 2011) Nascimento, Gabriela Goulart. "Erich Erdstein and the hunt for Nazis: A study on the book 'The Rebirth of the Swastika in Brazil.'" Federal University of Santa Catarina (Florianópolis, 2021) Mosimann, João Carlos. Catarinenses: Gênese E História (Florianópolis/SC, 2010) Kroener, Sebastian (Ed.). Das Hospital auf dem Palmenhof (Norderstedt, 2016) Ilg, Karl. Pioniere in Brasilien (Innsbruck/Wien/München, 1972) Lützeler, Paul Michael. "Migration und Exil in Geschichte, Mythos, und Literatur." In Bettina Bannasch / Gerhild Rochus (Eds.), Handbuch der deutschsprachigen Exilliteratur (Berlin/Boston, 2013): 3-25 Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism (New York, 1993) Said, Edward. Representations of the Intellectual: The 1993 Reith Lectures (New York, 1994) Herz-Kestranek, Miguel; Kaiser, Konstantin & Strigl, Daniela (Eds.). In welcher Sprache träumen Sie? Österreichische Lyrik des Exils und des Widerstands (Wien, 2007) Lomb, Kató. Harmony of Babel: Profiles of Famous Polyglots of Europe (Berkeley/Kyoto, 2013)   Hungarian Periodical Obituaries and Commemorations   Egri, Viktor. "A day in the invisible house." In Confession of Quiet Evenings (Bratislava: Madách, 1973): 162-166 Antalné Serb [Mrs. Antal Szerb]. "About Sándor Lénárd." Nagyvilág 1972/8: 1241-43 Kardos, György G. "Man at the end of the world: On the death of Sándor Lénárd." Élet és Irodalom (Life and Literature), May 6, 1972: 6 Bélley, Pál. "Tomb at the end of the world." Magyar Hírlap, April 29, 1972: 13 Kardos, Tibor. "Farewell to the doctor of the valley: The memory of Sándor Lénárd." Magyar Nemzet (Hungarian Nation), May 14, 1972: 12 (also in Az emberiség műhelyei, Budapest: Szépirodalmi Könyvkiadó, 1973) Bodnár, Györgyi. Radio broadcast, Petőfi Rádió "Two to Six," June 21, 1972   Newspaper and Magazine Sources (Hungarian)   Magyar Napló, 2005 (17. évfolyam, 11. szám) Kurír, 1990 (1. évfolyam, 124. szám) Magyarország, 1969 (6. évfolyam, 9. szám) Élet és Irodalom, 2010 (54. évfolyam, 11. szám) Siklós, Péter. Budapesttől a világ végi völgyig – Lénárd Sándor regényes életútja Berta, Gyula. "Egy magyar orvos, aki megtanította latinul Micimackót"   Other Sources   Lenard, Andrietta. "In Memory of Alexander." O Estado, May 11, 1980 (Florianópolis) Rosenmann, Peter. "Lénárd Sándor." Web-lapozgató, November 30, 2004 Wittmann, Angelina. "Alexander Lenard – Sándor Lénárd – Chose Dona Emma SC" (blog, June 24, 2022) Spiró, György & Kallen, Eve Maria. "No politics, no ideology, just human relations." Hungarian Lettre 92 (2014): 4-7 FCC – Fundação Catarinense de Cultura Cultural Heritage Inventory (2006) AMAVI (Association of Municipalities of Alto Vale do Itajaí) Registry (2006) FamilySearch genealogical records Lenard Seminar Group website (mek.oszk.hu) Scherman, David E. "Roman Holiday for a Bashful Bear Named Winnie" (article on Winnie Ille Pu)   Film   Sachs, Lynne. The Last Happy Day (experimental documentary film, 2009) - premiered at New York Film Festival

Lost At Christmas: Part 2 A vulnerable confrontation with an old crush. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. Christmas What had started out with the potential for so much disappointment, my first Christmas away from home, was actually quite wonderful. The family embraced me and treated me as one of their own. Dinner was scrumptious, a Christmas ham, with the full complement of side dishes. After dinner we chatted, drank a little too much spiked eggnog, and told stories of the last few years. I sat close to Sheri when I could, beside her at the dinner table, and next to her on the couch while we had our eggnog. I tried to engage her in some quiet conversation of our own, but the setting was all wrong for that, and I eventually abandoned those attempts. It was nice enough just to be near her. Tommy's step-father Dave, insisted I call Santiago, even though I knew the price would be outrageous, and I did. I gave my family my Christmas wishes, and told them how much I missed them and was looking forward to seeing them in a couple of days. Everyone in the room took a minute to say hello and share season's greetings. I had to spend a few minutes trying to get my Mom to stop crying at the far end, before we finally were able to hang-up. The small ones had to go to bed relatively early, and so we all got to open one gift the night before, as was their tradition. I gave Tommy his gift, and his mother opened the family gift and everyone acted pleased. In turn, they had bought me a present which I opened. It was two books for the trip, and they had a card for me. Inside was $50. I was completely in shock. "Dear Steve, Your short visit was a wonderful Christmas gift to us all. Thanks so much for choosing to spend this Christmas with us. Here's some mad money for the trip home. We all love you. Dave, June, Robert, Sheri, John and Jean" I was deeply touched by the gesture. I went over and gave Tommy's Mom a big hug, thanking her for the card and books. The kids jumped up with presents of their own, and I got two new drawings for my dorm room, as well as some mystery invention from John, which was supposed to be a spy tool to stop people from breaking into my room. I thanked them profusely, and they were put to bed shortly after. Dave, Tommy and I discussed the logistics of my morning bus ride back to Charleston. It left at 7:30 am, but was only about 15 minutes away, so we figured on getting a 7:00am start. We relaxed around the fire, ruminating on the poor souls who had the job of driving that bus all day Christmas day. There was a guitar in the corner, Greg's. I was surprised he hadn't taken it with him. I went over and grabbed it, and finding it miserably out of tune, I tuned it up. "Play something Christmassy", Tommy's Mom asked, and so I played a couple of tunes. I'm a fair guitarist; I was studying guitar at the Eastman School of Music since it was convenient, and ROTC was picking up the tab, and had improved quite a bit from the days of our first band. I got rave reviews from my small audience, and took requests for a while, before we broke it up. The parents still had some work to do for the kids, and Tommy and I wanted to hit the hay early, in order to catch that 7:30 bus. More hugs and kisses all around, with a firm handshake for Dave, and I retired to my room to finish my packing. I got ready for bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, laid out my clothes for the morning, and completed my packing. I had one last thing I wanted to do before hitting the sack, so I went back into the bathroom, and knocked on the opposite door into Sheri's room. I heard a muffled "Come in" or something to that effect, and opened the door to find Sheri sitting up in bed, brushing her long blonde hair. She was dressed in a nearly see-through pale green nightie that took my breath away. "Hi." I felt incredibly awkward, like I was 16 all over again. She looked up at me, giving me a quizzically upraised eyebrow. "I had a gift for you, but I felt kind of silly giving it to you out there. I hope you don't mind that I waited until now." I handed her a small leather pouch. She took it, laying her brush to the side, and opened it, pulling out a small cross. She stretched out the cord, and looked at me in surprise. "But this is your mountain cross! You always wear this!" She said, looking at me with a strange look I couldn't quite fathom. The cross was one I had found mountain climbing several years earlier. I had been in a small accident. I'd fallen into a glacier fed stream on a mountain trip, while collecting firewood in a storm. I'd almost frozen before I'd made it back to the cabin. Literally. I thought I was going to die. I was staggering the last 20 feet to the building, in a daze, when a friend returning from the outhouse ran into me, and dragged me inside to warm up. The next morning I found a small ivory cross on a rotted leather lanyard at almost the very place I had climbed out of the stream, and I had worn it for years since then. Sheri knew the story. I had told her the whole thing one evening when I had been giving her driving lessons. I don't know what had motivated me to give it to her, but I had had this urge, and I've always been a pretty impetuous person. "I just want you to have it." I explained. She patted the bed beside her for me to sit down then she handed me the cross to put around her neck and turned her back to me. I passed my hands over the head, letting the cross dangle in the valley between her breasts, and she reached back and pulled her hair up and out of the way, so I could latch the necklace on her. When I was done she turned to me, and fingering the cross she thanked me. "I got the strangest call today." She told me. "Strange how?" I asked. "Kathryn called me. We haven't talked probably in over a year, but she called me out of the blue, and we talked about nothing but you for over an hour." She said with a teasing smile. I could feel my face burning from the blush. We were real quiet for a bit. Then she spoke up softly, not looking at me at all, just looking down at her hands. "Do you remember the skating party where you asked me to skate, like 5 times?" "Do I ever! My hand was so sweaty I was embarrassed to hold yours, but didn't know how to dry it off, and I wasn't good enough a skater to make a real dance out of it." I laughed. "I thought you liked me, and were going to ask me out, but you never did. Why not?" She asked. The memory was embarrassing, and I thought about it a bit before confessing. "I had skated with Kathryn earlier in the evening, and she asked me who I liked. I told her I would answer by the end of the evening. Later, just when I was trying to get the nerve up to skate with you again, and ask you to sit by me on the Pensacola bus trip, Jack found me and told me that I had better ask Kathryn to skate. She was waiting for me to tell her something. Well, I did ask her to skate, and she reminded me of our previous conversation. I admitted that I really liked two people, you and her. Then she asked me if I minded if she 'monopolized' me for a while. I went along. You know the rest. One out-of-town bus trip; one back-row of the movie; and me completely screwing everything up." She listened without showing too much surprise. "But how come you never tried anything after that?" "God! How could I? You knew everything that had happened. Don't you remember the time I stopped by when Net was over here spending the night. Every time I passed you guys, you seemed to be laughing at me. And then when you passed me in the hall and whispered, "Oooh, I Love You," teasing me with what I'd said to Kathryn before completely blowing her off, I was just devastated. I hadn't screwed up just the one chance, but you as well." Sheri had the grace to blush from embarrassment at that. "I really didn't know much of what was going on. Kathryn just told me to go up to you and say that. I'm sorry." "Not half as sorry as I was." I told her. "You had to know how much I liked you. I was always trying to be around you and do things with you." "I didn't know how much of that was just being Tommy's sister, or what. I kept waiting for you to try something, anything, but you never did." She looked at me intensely almost with anguish. I was 16 all over again. I was still embarrassed over my ineptness around women. I had screwed things up with Kathryn. I had screwed up with Teri. And I had screwed up with Sheri. Since then I'd had more than my share of success with the young women I'd known, but all of a sudden, it was like I was a clumsy, scared virgin all over again. Sheri looked at me for a long while, then finally sighed and looked away, picking up her brush and going back to brushing her hair. "Some things will never change, I guess," she muttered, ignoring me. I started to get up, to go to my room, knowing this was neither the time, nor the place to try to start something with Sheri, but I just couldn't leave things as they were. I reached out and took the brush from her, which she relinquished slowly. I then took her by the shoulders and turned her away from me, so I could brush her hair. I brushed her hair in silence for a bit, before speaking. "For at least a year after leaving here, I would dream about you all the time. You were the girl of my fantasies. We wrote so well for a while, and I kept all your letters, reading them over and over again, looking for hidden meaning in the words, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to be with you. I still have those letters." I confessed. Several long seconds later Sheri reached down to the bottom drawer of her chest, next to the bed and opened it. She reached under her sweaters, and pulled out a pile of letters held together with a rubber-band. I recognized my writing. She turned to look at me, and her eyes glistened. I dropped the brush, leaned over and nervously kissed her, hoping beyond hope she wouldn't throw me out of her room with a ruckus. Instead she turned, and returned my kiss with a depth and passion I could only have prayed for. When we broke apart, we just looked at each other. Suddenly I couldn't help but giggle. "What?" She asked, almost crossly. "Do you remember how you thought you'd get pregnant from French kissing?" I recalled. She blushed again. "I can't believe you still remember that, you beast. How did you find that out anyway?" "Kathryn told me on the bus trip. I think she was trying to make you seem naive to me, sort of solidify her hold on me." I told her. "That Bitch! She always denied it, but I couldn't think of anyone else who knew." We laughed a bit, and gradually fell back into kissing each other. At the next break in our kissing, Sheri nailed me again. "Tommy said you did it with Angela. Was she your first?" "No. I never did do it with her. And Colleen was my first." I admitted. "Colleen? From yearbook?" "Yeah. But not until a year later. She went to Mosley with me, and we hooked up at a party. It was weird and nothing much happened of it. Three weeks later I was headed to Chile." I told her. She just shook her head at me. "Since it's time for true confessions, who was your first?" I asked teasing. "Rich? Mike?" "Oh God, no!" she laughed. "Then who?" She never answered, just turned a bright red. "Come on, fair's fair. I told you." I urged her relentlessly. She mumbled something I couldn't make out. "I can't hear you, who was it?" I teased again. She looked up, almost fiercely. "Nobody, all right?" I was stunned, and the ensuing silence seemed endless. "You're kidding me." I finally said, hardly believing. Her answer was so soft I almost missed it. "At one time I thought you'd be my first." This time when we kissed, I allowed my hands to wander, throwing caution to the wind. I cupped her perfect young breast in my hand, letting my thumb brush across her nipple, getting it hard. We were both gasping when we broke apart. "Steve?" "Yes?" "Go close your door, and turn off your light, then turn off the light in the bathroom," she said softly. I did, and she had turned down the light in her room. She was lying in the bed, the covers folded down neatly, waiting for me. She was still in her nightie. I stood beside the bed and made my commitment. I removed my shirt, and then my shorts, sporting a huge hard-on, which she stared at in wonder. I climbed into her bed completely naked. She had been laying sideways, leaning on her elbow, but as I entered the bed, she rolled onto her back, lying down, waiting for me. She was achingly beautiful in the dim light, and I was afraid I was going to come on the spot if she even touched me. I leaned over her and kissed her, but this time the kiss never stopped. I lost my soul in that kiss. I lost all track of time and presence. Our mouths stayed connected as we explored and played with our tongues, and my hands embarked on their exploration of the wonders of her body. My hands touched her all over, before finally settling in the warm crease between her legs. She had panties on, and as my fingers rubbed up and down her hidden folds, I found a small wet spot, maybe the size of a dime slowly spreading. Once I was aggressively rubbing her, sliding the material up and down, half-an inch into her by this time, the wetness enveloped the entire area. I slid my hand less than a foot up her body, and let my finger tips creep under the band of her panties. My hand slid down, the soft down of her hair like a magical lure, the gentle pressure of her panties against the back of my hand trapping me. Our kiss finally broke, and from an inch away we looked into each other's eyes as I slowly slid my middle finger between those forbidden lips, and into her. The aroma of her need assaulted me, and the quiet squish of her wetness against my finger was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was engulfed with desire. I started to crawl over her, placing my knee between hers when she stopped me. "Wait." Then she raised her hips, and scrunched down, raised her knees, moments later passing me a small, but incredibly erotic piece of plain, white material. I was beyond reason, and I climbed between her legs. She spread them for me, seeming as eager as I. I grabbed my throbbing rod in hand, and by feel, rubbed the head up and down her moistness, adding pressure bit by bit, until I felt it settle in at the mouth of her pussy. She gave a small gasp, as the head slid in just a bit, not quite in her yet, but knowing that I was one small push from being inside. "Be gentle," she said, and I could see a hint of nervousness and fear in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her softly, and while our lips touched, I pushed, sinking into her. At least for a bit. About halfway in I hit a barrier. I was confused at first. I pulled back and pushed again, a little harder, thinking I was sticking, and she grunted a little as if in pain. It finally sunk in. I had been with plenty of women, and several who had claimed to be virgins, but none with their cherry intact. I wasn't sure what to do. I probed again, and this time elicited a small 'ow'. What was I to do? I lay on top of her, my cock buried four inches deep in the girls of my dreams, and I was at a complete loss. Sheri shifted a bit under me, wrapped her legs around mine, and pulled me close. She whispered into my ear. "Take me." It was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. Nervously I pulled back until I was just at the opening and I drove down hard, feeling just a pinch before my pelvis was grinding into hers. I was completely inside her. I got up on my elbows and looked down at her. I could see a single wet trail that glistened from the side of her eye to her ear. "Are you ok?" I asked her, holding myself still, deep inside of her. "Wonderful," she said softly, tilting her chin up slightly for a kiss. I accepted the offer, and kissed her gently, while I experimented with moving my cock within her incredibly tight sheath. I felt I was only moments from coming, but I couldn't resist moving my hips just a bit, exploring the feeling of being inside her. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I always wanted you. You knew it. I knew it. But I was afraid. I was afraid of the ribbing from your brother. Afraid of being exposed for knowing nothing about what to do with a girl. Afraid of ruining our friendship. Afraid of striking out, and you telling all the other girls, and my being the laughingstock. Afraid of so many stupid things. I was an idiot." "You weren't afraid of Kathryn," she answered softly. "She initiated it all. She pushed forward, asking to monopolize me, holding my hand. I probably never would have made the move. If I could change one thing, it would be that skating party. I should have saved that last moonlight skate for you, and asked you out. I should have told Kathryn that you were the one girl I was interested in. Who knows how things might have worked out? Plus, it wasn't as big a deal. If things didn't work out, oh well. But if I ruined things with you, it would have killed all my dreams." She was hot beneath me, her skin almost burning to my touch, I was finally moving inside of her, but I quickly had to stop, again on the verge of coming, and embarrassed at my short trigger. "Make love to me Steve," she said breathlessly. I gave a few more strokes and had to stop again. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so excited I'm on the verge of coming now. If I move I won't be able to stop," I finally confessed. "Do it. Pump me, take me, come deep inside me," she answered. Those words were too much, and with a gasp I drove my cock in hard, and exploded inside her. I pulled back and slammed into her a dozen times or so, making the bed creak alarmingly as I emptied myself inside her virgin moistness. As my heart hammer away in my chest, and my breathing gasped, she gave me a small joyous laugh. "Wow, I guess you were close!" Then she gave a big hug before she pushed me off of her. She climbed over me, her hand pressed between her legs and scrambled into the bathroom, waddling inelegantly but still incredibly arousing to me. I heard her tinkle, and then return to the bed with a facecloth with which she wiped my semi-hard cock clean. Then she climbed into bed, her head on my shoulder and talked. She recounted almost ever time that we'd been together alone, all the adventures we'd had, the summer we'd learned to play tennis together, and what she'd thought might happen. We laughed a little at my ineptness and her caution as well. Then I felt her hand creep down between my legs. "Do you think we could try that again?" she asked me hesitantly. "I'm dying to, but I was afraid I might have hurt you." I laughed my foolish insecure laugh. "So hurt me," she teased, giving a tug on my cock. This time I held out a little better. I climbed between her legs again, and made love to her, still gently, still nervous. But before long I was feeling that familiar rhythm of need, and my strokes became longer and more insistent. I had to have her. I had to take her. I had to fill her deeply, completely. I sat up in the bed, discarding the covers, and raised her legs, pushing them back, and screwing her powerfully, shaking her body, crashing into her with a burning need. She was still wearing her nightie, but it had ridden up above her belly button, just a couple of inches below her breasts. I stopped my motion and whispered to her, "Rise up on your elbows." She looked at me oddly but did, raising her head a few inches off the pillow. I leaned over and lifted her nightie up above her breast, allowing me to see the objects of my desire and fantasies. "God, I've pictured those in my mind for four years, and yet never came close to imagining how perfect and beautiful they are." I said, more to myself than to her. I resumed my fucking, for that was what I was doing now, fucking her. Fucking her hard. She had her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and now she was holding her nightie in her hands, almost to her chin, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her oh-so-perfect tits. The visuals were all too much and pushed me over the edge once again. The beautiful face, the long hair arrayed across the pillow, the full breasts, bouncing a counter-beat to my pounding, her flat stomach, hollowed, and the light fur of her hair parted to allow my pole to penetrate her again and again. With a moan I came for her again, collapsing beside her, sated, and in complete serenity and joy. "I guess you really do like me," she laughed, cuddling up to my side. Then she was asking me about my afternoon meeting with Kathryn. "What did she tell you?" I asked, a little nervous. "No, you tell me what happened. I don't trust her," she insisted. I told her the whole story, including the ending. In full short-but-sweet detail. "I knew it!" She laughed. "She said you tried to come on to her, and made her grab you there, but she turned you down." "If that's how she wants to tell it that's fine by me. I owe her one; let her have it however she wants." I said "When you went to the movies, what really happened there?" she asked, with her one-track mind. I wasn't sure what her preoccupation was but I finally told her the whole scene, everything I'd done, every liberty I'd taken. At the end I waited in judgment. "She's such a liar. She said you tried to reach inside her pants but she stopped you." "Hardly, I could smell her on my fingers for day afterwards." I laughed. Sheri was lost in thought pressed up against me. My hands were idling rubbing her back, the material of her nightie soft and silky against my fingertips. "I guess there's only one thing she's done with you that we haven't done," Sheri started, and then she slid under the covers and a moment later I felt the warm wetness of her mouth enveloping me. I could see the covers moving as she used her mouth to pleasure me, taking only a few moments to make me hard, and then sucking me like there was no tomorrow. Which, in a way I guess there wasn't. I wanted to see her, so I pulled the covers back and looked down at her. She continued a few more strokes, then shifted and faced me a little more, finally lifting her eyes to watch me, watching her, suck my cock. A few more deep strokes and she pulled off with a smile. "I can see that's one thing you like," she said with a grin. "Like is an understatement." I laughed. She gave me a couple more sucks, and then she straddled me, and rose up to take me inside of her again. I wanted her so bad I could almost scream. She got me positioned right, and then slowly lowered herself the full length of my staff with one long, smooth stroke. Then, settled on my hips, my turgid meat buried in her achingly tight recess, she lifted the bottom of her nightie and pulled it up and over her head. I'd been to several strip shows before that, but never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful or so erotic. I could feel my pulse in my cock, throbbing inside her. She opened her eyes wide, and looked down between her legs. "Wow, I could feel that. At least one part of you really likes to see the girls," she laughed, holding her breasts cupped in her hands, and jiggling them for me. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I told her. "Right, and now I guess you're going to tell me you love me, just like Kathryn." She said it with a hint of bitterness I didn't understand. "The difference is back then it was the hormones of a 16 year old talking. You on the other hand, I've loved for three years. And you know it." I said, and only as I spoke the words did I realize to my very soul, just how true it was. Sheri didn't answer. She leaned forward and rocked back and forth on my hard cock, enjoying the feeling of controlling the penetration, the pace, the timing. She paced herself to my breathing and excitement. When I started to get really excited she'd slow down and hold me, letting me ease back from the edge. When I was strong and ready, she'd ride me hard. She let my hands explore her as she did the work, and I touched her everywhere I could reach, just wallowing in the sensations. I pulled her down within reach, and tasted her nipples, playing with those perfect globes. The feel of her breasts, that impossible soft pale skin under my lips, making way to the crinkled, tougher skin, peaking to a little nub seemingly designed for me to tease and taste. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of sensual, erotic play, she laid down on me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her mouth on my neck, while she slowly rocked her hips, fucking herself gently on my rod. "Come for me Steve," she said, almost as a command. I reached down and took her full, soft ass cheeks in my hands, grasping them tight, and I held her up a bit off of me, so I could us my hips to drive in and out of her channel more completely. I was able to get a good long stroke established, and I could feel the cool air brushing against my wet shaft each time I pulled outward. We had made love for what seemed ages before she issued that first command for me to come. Now she issued another one. "Tell me again." I couldn't hold back any longer, and didn't want to. I was fucking the prettiest girl I'd ever known; The first girl that I had really badly wanted; The sweet little virgin that I had fantasized about for so long; Whose pretty face had been the image I'd been picturing as I filled enough old gym socks with cum to fill a stadium. "I love you, Sheri. I've loved you as long as I've known you." And with that I pulled her down hard on my cock, coming inside my dream girl again, and absorbing the feeling, knowing I was leaving within hours, not knowing when I'd see her again. "I love you, Steve," she said, I could feel her tears rolling down the side of my face. I looked up to see the sky lightening with the coming dawn, and thought to myself, "That's another one you've got up on Kathryn." I disentangled myself from her limbs and kissed her. "I have to go. Tommy's going to be looking for me any minute." Somehow we had spent the entire night reminiscing, sharing and making love. It was so difficult, but I tore myself from her arms, tucked her in bed, and kissed her goodnight. "Get a couple of hours of sleep; I'll be able to sleep on the bus." I told her. She was still wearing the cross I'd given her. She held it now. "Thanks for the Christmas present." She said with a small sad smile. I kissed her again, and retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. Back in my room, I dressed, and found a present waiting for me on my suitcase. A 8 by 10 picture of Sheri, as beautiful as I'd ever seen her, with a small inscription on the back. "Merry Christmas. Don't forget about me. Love, Sheri" I had just finished putting it away when Tommy knocked on my door, dragging me out to breakfast, and then off to the bus. The rest of that trip was uneventful; I made it home OK, picked up some presents in Panama, saw some old friends, and made it back to college in one piece. But I'll always recall that first Christmas away from home, and the greatest Christmas present I ever received. Not my first erector set, or the 114 piece Lincoln Log tube. Not my first really Cool bicycle, a purple spider bike with banana seat, big handle bars and a three speed shifter on the bar. Not my first electric guitar, a Fender, and amp, which I think my parents had some second thoughts about. No, Sheri's was the nicest gift I ever received, and probably ever will receive, for Christmas. "Thanks" just doesn't seem to say enough. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Lost At Christmas: Part 2 A vulnerable confrontation with an old crush. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. Christmas What had started out with the potential for so much disappointment, my first Christmas away from home, was actually quite wonderful. The family embraced me and treated me as one of their own. Dinner was scrumptious, a Christmas ham, with the full complement of side dishes. After dinner we chatted, drank a little too much spiked eggnog, and told stories of the last few years. I sat close to Sheri when I could, beside her at the dinner table, and next to her on the couch while we had our eggnog. I tried to engage her in some quiet conversation of our own, but the setting was all wrong for that, and I eventually abandoned those attempts. It was nice enough just to be near her. Tommy's step-father Dave, insisted I call Santiago, even though I knew the price would be outrageous, and I did. I gave my family my Christmas wishes, and told them how much I missed them and was looking forward to seeing them in a couple of days. Everyone in the room took a minute to say hello and share season's greetings. I had to spend a few minutes trying to get my Mom to stop crying at the far end, before we finally were able to hang-up. The small ones had to go to bed relatively early, and so we all got to open one gift the night before, as was their tradition. I gave Tommy his gift, and his mother opened the family gift and everyone acted pleased. In turn, they had bought me a present which I opened. It was two books for the trip, and they had a card for me. Inside was $50. I was completely in shock. "Dear Steve, Your short visit was a wonderful Christmas gift to us all. Thanks so much for choosing to spend this Christmas with us. Here's some mad money for the trip home. We all love you. Dave, June, Robert, Sheri, John and Jean" I was deeply touched by the gesture. I went over and gave Tommy's Mom a big hug, thanking her for the card and books. The kids jumped up with presents of their own, and I got two new drawings for my dorm room, as well as some mystery invention from John, which was supposed to be a spy tool to stop people from breaking into my room. I thanked them profusely, and they were put to bed shortly after. Dave, Tommy and I discussed the logistics of my morning bus ride back to Charleston. It left at 7:30 am, but was only about 15 minutes away, so we figured on getting a 7:00am start. We relaxed around the fire, ruminating on the poor souls who had the job of driving that bus all day Christmas day. There was a guitar in the corner, Greg's. I was surprised he hadn't taken it with him. I went over and grabbed it, and finding it miserably out of tune, I tuned it up. "Play something Christmassy", Tommy's Mom asked, and so I played a couple of tunes. I'm a fair guitarist; I was studying guitar at the Eastman School of Music since it was convenient, and ROTC was picking up the tab, and had improved quite a bit from the days of our first band. I got rave reviews from my small audience, and took requests for a while, before we broke it up. The parents still had some work to do for the kids, and Tommy and I wanted to hit the hay early, in order to catch that 7:30 bus. More hugs and kisses all around, with a firm handshake for Dave, and I retired to my room to finish my packing. I got ready for bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, laid out my clothes for the morning, and completed my packing. I had one last thing I wanted to do before hitting the sack, so I went back into the bathroom, and knocked on the opposite door into Sheri's room. I heard a muffled "Come in" or something to that effect, and opened the door to find Sheri sitting up in bed, brushing her long blonde hair. She was dressed in a nearly see-through pale green nightie that took my breath away. "Hi." I felt incredibly awkward, like I was 16 all over again. She looked up at me, giving me a quizzically upraised eyebrow. "I had a gift for you, but I felt kind of silly giving it to you out there. I hope you don't mind that I waited until now." I handed her a small leather pouch. She took it, laying her brush to the side, and opened it, pulling out a small cross. She stretched out the cord, and looked at me in surprise. "But this is your mountain cross! You always wear this!" She said, looking at me with a strange look I couldn't quite fathom. The cross was one I had found mountain climbing several years earlier. I had been in a small accident. I'd fallen into a glacier fed stream on a mountain trip, while collecting firewood in a storm. I'd almost frozen before I'd made it back to the cabin. Literally. I thought I was going to die. I was staggering the last 20 feet to the building, in a daze, when a friend returning from the outhouse ran into me, and dragged me inside to warm up. The next morning I found a small ivory cross on a rotted leather lanyard at almost the very place I had climbed out of the stream, and I had worn it for years since then. Sheri knew the story. I had told her the whole thing one evening when I had been giving her driving lessons. I don't know what had motivated me to give it to her, but I had had this urge, and I've always been a pretty impetuous person. "I just want you to have it." I explained. She patted the bed beside her for me to sit down then she handed me the cross to put around her neck and turned her back to me. I passed my hands over the head, letting the cross dangle in the valley between her breasts, and she reached back and pulled her hair up and out of the way, so I could latch the necklace on her. When I was done she turned to me, and fingering the cross she thanked me. "I got the strangest call today." She told me. "Strange how?" I asked. "Kathryn called me. We haven't talked probably in over a year, but she called me out of the blue, and we talked about nothing but you for over an hour." She said with a teasing smile. I could feel my face burning from the blush. We were real quiet for a bit. Then she spoke up softly, not looking at me at all, just looking down at her hands. "Do you remember the skating party where you asked me to skate, like 5 times?" "Do I ever! My hand was so sweaty I was embarrassed to hold yours, but didn't know how to dry it off, and I wasn't good enough a skater to make a real dance out of it." I laughed. "I thought you liked me, and were going to ask me out, but you never did. Why not?" She asked. The memory was embarrassing, and I thought about it a bit before confessing. "I had skated with Kathryn earlier in the evening, and she asked me who I liked. I told her I would answer by the end of the evening. Later, just when I was trying to get the nerve up to skate with you again, and ask you to sit by me on the Pensacola bus trip, Jack found me and told me that I had better ask Kathryn to skate. She was waiting for me to tell her something. Well, I did ask her to skate, and she reminded me of our previous conversation. I admitted that I really liked two people, you and her. Then she asked me if I minded if she 'monopolized' me for a while. I went along. You know the rest. One out-of-town bus trip; one back-row of the movie; and me completely screwing everything up." She listened without showing too much surprise. "But how come you never tried anything after that?" "God! How could I? You knew everything that had happened. Don't you remember the time I stopped by when Net was over here spending the night. Every time I passed you guys, you seemed to be laughing at me. And then when you passed me in the hall and whispered, "Oooh, I Love You," teasing me with what I'd said to Kathryn before completely blowing her off, I was just devastated. I hadn't screwed up just the one chance, but you as well." Sheri had the grace to blush from embarrassment at that. "I really didn't know much of what was going on. Kathryn just told me to go up to you and say that. I'm sorry." "Not half as sorry as I was." I told her. "You had to know how much I liked you. I was always trying to be around you and do things with you." "I didn't know how much of that was just being Tommy's sister, or what. I kept waiting for you to try something, anything, but you never did." She looked at me intensely almost with anguish. I was 16 all over again. I was still embarrassed over my ineptness around women. I had screwed things up with Kathryn. I had screwed up with Teri. And I had screwed up with Sheri. Since then I'd had more than my share of success with the young women I'd known, but all of a sudden, it was like I was a clumsy, scared virgin all over again. Sheri looked at me for a long while, then finally sighed and looked away, picking up her brush and going back to brushing her hair. "Some things will never change, I guess," she muttered, ignoring me. I started to get up, to go to my room, knowing this was neither the time, nor the place to try to start something with Sheri, but I just couldn't leave things as they were. I reached out and took the brush from her, which she relinquished slowly. I then took her by the shoulders and turned her away from me, so I could brush her hair. I brushed her hair in silence for a bit, before speaking. "For at least a year after leaving here, I would dream about you all the time. You were the girl of my fantasies. We wrote so well for a while, and I kept all your letters, reading them over and over again, looking for hidden meaning in the words, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to be with you. I still have those letters." I confessed. Several long seconds later Sheri reached down to the bottom drawer of her chest, next to the bed and opened it. She reached under her sweaters, and pulled out a pile of letters held together with a rubber-band. I recognized my writing. She turned to look at me, and her eyes glistened. I dropped the brush, leaned over and nervously kissed her, hoping beyond hope she wouldn't throw me out of her room with a ruckus. Instead she turned, and returned my kiss with a depth and passion I could only have prayed for. When we broke apart, we just looked at each other. Suddenly I couldn't help but giggle. "What?" She asked, almost crossly. "Do you remember how you thought you'd get pregnant from French kissing?" I recalled. She blushed again. "I can't believe you still remember that, you beast. How did you find that out anyway?" "Kathryn told me on the bus trip. I think she was trying to make you seem naive to me, sort of solidify her hold on me." I told her. "That Bitch! She always denied it, but I couldn't think of anyone else who knew." We laughed a bit, and gradually fell back into kissing each other. At the next break in our kissing, Sheri nailed me again. "Tommy said you did it with Angela. Was she your first?" "No. I never did do it with her. And Colleen was my first." I admitted. "Colleen? From yearbook?" "Yeah. But not until a year later. She went to Mosley with me, and we hooked up at a party. It was weird and nothing much happened of it. Three weeks later I was headed to Chile." I told her. She just shook her head at me. "Since it's time for true confessions, who was your first?" I asked teasing. "Rich? Mike?" "Oh God, no!" she laughed. "Then who?" She never answered, just turned a bright red. "Come on, fair's fair. I told you." I urged her relentlessly. She mumbled something I couldn't make out. "I can't hear you, who was it?" I teased again. She looked up, almost fiercely. "Nobody, all right?" I was stunned, and the ensuing silence seemed endless. "You're kidding me." I finally said, hardly believing. Her answer was so soft I almost missed it. "At one time I thought you'd be my first." This time when we kissed, I allowed my hands to wander, throwing caution to the wind. I cupped her perfect young breast in my hand, letting my thumb brush across her nipple, getting it hard. We were both gasping when we broke apart. "Steve?" "Yes?" "Go close your door, and turn off your light, then turn off the light in the bathroom," she said softly. I did, and she had turned down the light in her room. She was lying in the bed, the covers folded down neatly, waiting for me. She was still in her nightie. I stood beside the bed and made my commitment. I removed my shirt, and then my shorts, sporting a huge hard-on, which she stared at in wonder. I climbed into her bed completely naked. She had been laying sideways, leaning on her elbow, but as I entered the bed, she rolled onto her back, lying down, waiting for me. She was achingly beautiful in the dim light, and I was afraid I was going to come on the spot if she even touched me. I leaned over her and kissed her, but this time the kiss never stopped. I lost my soul in that kiss. I lost all track of time and presence. Our mouths stayed connected as we explored and played with our tongues, and my hands embarked on their exploration of the wonders of her body. My hands touched her all over, before finally settling in the warm crease between her legs. She had panties on, and as my fingers rubbed up and down her hidden folds, I found a small wet spot, maybe the size of a dime slowly spreading. Once I was aggressively rubbing her, sliding the material up and down, half-an inch into her by this time, the wetness enveloped the entire area. I slid my hand less than a foot up her body, and let my finger tips creep under the band of her panties. My hand slid down, the soft down of her hair like a magical lure, the gentle pressure of her panties against the back of my hand trapping me. Our kiss finally broke, and from an inch away we looked into each other's eyes as I slowly slid my middle finger between those forbidden lips, and into her. The aroma of her need assaulted me, and the quiet squish of her wetness against my finger was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was engulfed with desire. I started to crawl over her, placing my knee between hers when she stopped me. "Wait." Then she raised her hips, and scrunched down, raised her knees, moments later passing me a small, but incredibly erotic piece of plain, white material. I was beyond reason, and I climbed between her legs. She spread them for me, seeming as eager as I. I grabbed my throbbing rod in hand, and by feel, rubbed the head up and down her moistness, adding pressure bit by bit, until I felt it settle in at the mouth of her pussy. She gave a small gasp, as the head slid in just a bit, not quite in her yet, but knowing that I was one small push from being inside. "Be gentle," she said, and I could see a hint of nervousness and fear in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her softly, and while our lips touched, I pushed, sinking into her. At least for a bit. About halfway in I hit a barrier. I was confused at first. I pulled back and pushed again, a little harder, thinking I was sticking, and she grunted a little as if in pain. It finally sunk in. I had been with plenty of women, and several who had claimed to be virgins, but none with their cherry intact. I wasn't sure what to do. I probed again, and this time elicited a small 'ow'. What was I to do? I lay on top of her, my cock buried four inches deep in the girls of my dreams, and I was at a complete loss. Sheri shifted a bit under me, wrapped her legs around mine, and pulled me close. She whispered into my ear. "Take me." It was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. Nervously I pulled back until I was just at the opening and I drove down hard, feeling just a pinch before my pelvis was grinding into hers. I was completely inside her. I got up on my elbows and looked down at her. I could see a single wet trail that glistened from the side of her eye to her ear. "Are you ok?" I asked her, holding myself still, deep inside of her. "Wonderful," she said softly, tilting her chin up slightly for a kiss. I accepted the offer, and kissed her gently, while I experimented with moving my cock within her incredibly tight sheath. I felt I was only moments from coming, but I couldn't resist moving my hips just a bit, exploring the feeling of being inside her. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I always wanted you. You knew it. I knew it. But I was afraid. I was afraid of the ribbing from your brother. Afraid of being exposed for knowing nothing about what to do with a girl. Afraid of ruining our friendship. Afraid of striking out, and you telling all the other girls, and my being the laughingstock. Afraid of so many stupid things. I was an idiot." "You weren't afraid of Kathryn," she answered softly. "She initiated it all. She pushed forward, asking to monopolize me, holding my hand. I probably never would have made the move. If I could change one thing, it would be that skating party. I should have saved that last moonlight skate for you, and asked you out. I should have told Kathryn that you were the one girl I was interested in. Who knows how things might have worked out? Plus, it wasn't as big a deal. If things didn't work out, oh well. But if I ruined things with you, it would have killed all my dreams." She was hot beneath me, her skin almost burning to my touch, I was finally moving inside of her, but I quickly had to stop, again on the verge of coming, and embarrassed at my short trigger. "Make love to me Steve," she said breathlessly. I gave a few more strokes and had to stop again. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so excited I'm on the verge of coming now. If I move I won't be able to stop," I finally confessed. "Do it. Pump me, take me, come deep inside me," she answered. Those words were too much, and with a gasp I drove my cock in hard, and exploded inside her. I pulled back and slammed into her a dozen times or so, making the bed creak alarmingly as I emptied myself inside her virgin moistness. As my heart hammer away in my chest, and my breathing gasped, she gave me a small joyous laugh. "Wow, I guess you were close!" Then she gave a big hug before she pushed me off of her. She climbed over me, her hand pressed between her legs and scrambled into the bathroom, waddling inelegantly but still incredibly arousing to me. I heard her tinkle, and then return to the bed with a facecloth with which she wiped my semi-hard cock clean. Then she climbed into bed, her head on my shoulder and talked. She recounted almost ever time that we'd been together alone, all the adventures we'd had, the summer we'd learned to play tennis together, and what she'd thought might happen. We laughed a little at my ineptness and her caution as well. Then I felt her hand creep down between my legs. "Do you think we could try that again?" she asked me hesitantly. "I'm dying to, but I was afraid I might have hurt you." I laughed my foolish insecure laugh. "So hurt me," she teased, giving a tug on my cock. This time I held out a little better. I climbed between her legs again, and made love to her, still gently, still nervous. But before long I was feeling that familiar rhythm of need, and my strokes became longer and more insistent. I had to have her. I had to take her. I had to fill her deeply, completely. I sat up in the bed, discarding the covers, and raised her legs, pushing them back, and screwing her powerfully, shaking her body, crashing into her with a burning need. She was still wearing her nightie, but it had ridden up above her belly button, just a couple of inches below her breasts. I stopped my motion and whispered to her, "Rise up on your elbows." She looked at me oddly but did, raising her head a few inches off the pillow. I leaned over and lifted her nightie up above her breast, allowing me to see the objects of my desire and fantasies. "God, I've pictured those in my mind for four years, and yet never came close to imagining how perfect and beautiful they are." I said, more to myself than to her. I resumed my fucking, for that was what I was doing now, fucking her. Fucking her hard. She had her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and now she was holding her nightie in her hands, almost to her chin, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her oh-so-perfect tits. The visuals were all too much and pushed me over the edge once again. The beautiful face, the long hair arrayed across the pillow, the full breasts, bouncing a counter-beat to my pounding, her flat stomach, hollowed, and the light fur of her hair parted to allow my pole to penetrate her again and again. With a moan I came for her again, collapsing beside her, sated, and in complete serenity and joy. "I guess you really do like me," she laughed, cuddling up to my side. Then she was asking me about my afternoon meeting with Kathryn. "What did she tell you?" I asked, a little nervous. "No, you tell me what happened. I don't trust her," she insisted. I told her the whole story, including the ending. In full short-but-sweet detail. "I knew it!" She laughed. "She said you tried to come on to her, and made her grab you there, but she turned you down." "If that's how she wants to tell it that's fine by me. I owe her one; let her have it however she wants." I said "When you went to the movies, what really happened there?" she asked, with her one-track mind. I wasn't sure what her preoccupation was but I finally told her the whole scene, everything I'd done, every liberty I'd taken. At the end I waited in judgment. "She's such a liar. She said you tried to reach inside her pants but she stopped you." "Hardly, I could smell her on my fingers for day afterwards." I laughed. Sheri was lost in thought pressed up against me. My hands were idling rubbing her back, the material of her nightie soft and silky against my fingertips. "I guess there's only one thing she's done with you that we haven't done," Sheri started, and then she slid under the covers and a moment later I felt the warm wetness of her mouth enveloping me. I could see the covers moving as she used her mouth to pleasure me, taking only a few moments to make me hard, and then sucking me like there was no tomorrow. Which, in a way I guess there wasn't. I wanted to see her, so I pulled the covers back and looked down at her. She continued a few more strokes, then shifted and faced me a little more, finally lifting her eyes to watch me, watching her, suck my cock. A few more deep strokes and she pulled off with a smile. "I can see that's one thing you like," she said with a grin. "Like is an understatement." I laughed. She gave me a couple more sucks, and then she straddled me, and rose up to take me inside of her again. I wanted her so bad I could almost scream. She got me positioned right, and then slowly lowered herself the full length of my staff with one long, smooth stroke. Then, settled on my hips, my turgid meat buried in her achingly tight recess, she lifted the bottom of her nightie and pulled it up and over her head. I'd been to several strip shows before that, but never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful or so erotic. I could feel my pulse in my cock, throbbing inside her. She opened her eyes wide, and looked down between her legs. "Wow, I could feel that. At least one part of you really likes to see the girls," she laughed, holding her breasts cupped in her hands, and jiggling them for me. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I told her. "Right, and now I guess you're going to tell me you love me, just like Kathryn." She said it with a hint of bitterness I didn't understand. "The difference is back then it was the hormones of a 16 year old talking. You on the other hand, I've loved for three years. And you know it." I said, and only as I spoke the words did I realize to my very soul, just how true it was. Sheri didn't answer. She leaned forward and rocked back and forth on my hard cock, enjoying the feeling of controlling the penetration, the pace, the timing. She paced herself to my breathing and excitement. When I started to get really excited she'd slow down and hold me, letting me ease back from the edge. When I was strong and ready, she'd ride me hard. She let my hands explore her as she did the work, and I touched her everywhere I could reach, just wallowing in the sensations. I pulled her down within reach, and tasted her nipples, playing with those perfect globes. The feel of her breasts, that impossible soft pale skin under my lips, making way to the crinkled, tougher skin, peaking to a little nub seemingly designed for me to tease and taste. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of sensual, erotic play, she laid down on me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her mouth on my neck, while she slowly rocked her hips, fucking herself gently on my rod. "Come for me Steve," she said, almost as a command. I reached down and took her full, soft ass cheeks in my hands, grasping them tight, and I held her up a bit off of me, so I could us my hips to drive in and out of her channel more completely. I was able to get a good long stroke established, and I could feel the cool air brushing against my wet shaft each time I pulled outward. We had made love for what seemed ages before she issued that first command for me to come. Now she issued another one. "Tell me again." I couldn't hold back any longer, and didn't want to. I was fucking the prettiest girl I'd ever known; The first girl that I had really badly wanted; The sweet little virgin that I had fantasized about for so long; Whose pretty face had been the image I'd been picturing as I filled enough old gym socks with cum to fill a stadium. "I love you, Sheri. I've loved you as long as I've known you." And with that I pulled her down hard on my cock, coming inside my dream girl again, and absorbing the feeling, knowing I was leaving within hours, not knowing when I'd see her again. "I love you, Steve," she said, I could feel her tears rolling down the side of my face. I looked up to see the sky lightening with the coming dawn, and thought to myself, "That's another one you've got up on Kathryn." I disentangled myself from her limbs and kissed her. "I have to go. Tommy's going to be looking for me any minute." Somehow we had spent the entire night reminiscing, sharing and making love. It was so difficult, but I tore myself from her arms, tucked her in bed, and kissed her goodnight. "Get a couple of hours of sleep; I'll be able to sleep on the bus." I told her. She was still wearing the cross I'd given her. She held it now. "Thanks for the Christmas present." She said with a small sad smile. I kissed her again, and retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. Back in my room, I dressed, and found a present waiting for me on my suitcase. A 8 by 10 picture of Sheri, as beautiful as I'd ever seen her, with a small inscription on the back. "Merry Christmas. Don't forget about me. Love, Sheri" I had just finished putting it away when Tommy knocked on my door, dragging me out to breakfast, and then off to the bus. The rest of that trip was uneventful; I made it home OK, picked up some presents in Panama, saw some old friends, and made it back to college in one piece. But I'll always recall that first Christmas away from home, and the greatest Christmas present I ever received. Not my first erector set, or the 114 piece Lincoln Log tube. Not my first really Cool bicycle, a purple spider bike with banana seat, big handle bars and a three speed shifter on the bar. Not my first electric guitar, a Fender, and amp, which I think my parents had some second thoughts about. No, Sheri's was the nicest gift I ever received, and probably ever will receive, for Christmas. "Thanks" just doesn't seem to say enough. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Lost At Christmas: Part 1 His First Christmas away from home, & His best gift ever. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. After my first semester in College, I was eager to go home for the holidays. I was going to school in Rochester, New York, and anybody who'd experienced the lake-effect winters on the Great Lakes would understand my desire to get to somewhere warmer. For me, that somewhere warmer was a long ways away. As a military brat, home was often a moving target, and that winter it was Santiago, Chile, where my father was stationed and where I'd graduated high-school. It was summer in Santiago, and I was looking forward to a pool-party with my old school mates for the Holidays. We didn't have a lot of money, but I was allowed to travel space available on a military flight as a Navy ROTC student. I had to get down to Charleston, South Carolina, and catch an international C1 41 flight that made a loop through Latin America. After finagling a ride to Virginia followed by a very long bus trip down the coast, I finally made it to Charleston AFB. ROTC travel orders in hand, I checked in at the desk, and verified I was on the standby list for the flight leaving on the 23rd. I wouldn't get home until Christmas Day, but better late than never. With pockets nearly empty, a hotel room was out of the question so I slept in the terminal and snacked on the cheapest eats I could get away with. There was a festive mood in the terminal, so many people rushing to get home for the holidays, and I was getting caught up in the feeling, eagerly looking forward to that very long plane ride, first to Panama, then Lima, and finally Santiago. After what seemed an interminable wait, we were an hour away from boarding when I got bumped off the flight by a group of Marines headed to Panama on Active Duty travel orders. I was devastated. The next flight left early the morning of the 26th. At least that one was a huge plane, and nearly empty so I was virtually guaranteed to get aboard, but what was I going to do for Christmas? Looking up at the outgoing flight schedules, I saw a flight listed for Tyndall AFB, Panama City, Florida. "When is the flight to Tyndall headed out?" I asked the airman behind the desk. "In an hour-and-a-half, and it's all but empty. You want on?" He asked, offering some recompense for my last minute bump. I'd lived in Panama City during 9th and 10th grade, and still had some close friends there, many I still kept in touch with. Maybe I could find someone to spend Christmas with there. It had to be better than sleeping in the terminal for 2 more days. "Please," I told him, "but hold my space for Santiago. I'll be back for that flight." I recalled there being a pretty big Greyhound station in Panama City, so I called Greyhound and checked on a bus being able to get me back in time for the flight. They had one, a 7:30 am bus on Christmas morning would get me back before midnight on Christmas. I could easily make the flight the next morning, even if it were delay a few hours. I bought a ticket, using the emergency Am Ex card my parents had given me when I headed off to college. I'd explain the $67.00 to my parents. I called my family in Santiago with the news. It had to be short call because of the expense, so I let them know I had been bumped but would be there on the 28th. I told them I was headed to Panama City, and would be taking a bus back in plenty of time for my flight. My mother cried, and my father told me to go ahead and use the credit card, but to try to keep the expenses reasonable. By the time I hung up I was pretty depressed, but at least I had a plan. Before I could try to contact anyone in Panama City, an announcement was made and suddenly I was on my way to Florida for Christmas, with no place lined up to stay, and practically broke. I was feeling a bit melancholy, but was determined to make the best of it. So there I was, at Tyndall Air Force Base, at 11:20 pm on December 23rd. I was debating who to try first. I had several close friends nearby and I expected they'd all be home for Christmas. After a short internal debate, I had narrowed it down to two. I had always gotten along well with their entire families, and I was still in pretty regular contact with both of them. Mike lived the nearest to me in the old days. He came from a big family, with 6 siblings, including Peggy, who'd been one of my first real deep infatuations. When I had been in 9th grade she'd been a senior, and was pretty and sophisticated. My yearning for her was unrequited, but I relished the idea of seeing her again after four years. She was a college senior, and would probably be home. I knew they'd welcome me, but I was concerned it would be an inconvenience. They did not have a large house, and it was bound to be crowded, particularly with three college kids home for the holiday. On top of that who knew if they had anyone else in tow? Tommy on the other hand came from a relatively well-off family who always lived well within their means. He had an older brother, who was working in Japan and unlikely to be home, a sister, Sheri, just a year behind us in school, and two much younger siblings, who I guessed would be around 9 and 10 by now. They had a spacious house, each kid had their own room, and I wouldn't be putting anybody out if I stayed there. I'd always had a crush on Sheri, but although I'd dated her best friend, I'd never gone out with her. Getting a chance to see her again would be an extra bonus. Feeling nervous and awkward, I dialed Tommy's number from memory, and luckily got him on the first call. If I'd gotten somebody else, I would have really felt uncomfortable. Tommy's answer was unmistakable. He had a funny way of saying hello when he answered the phone, and the sound of his voice took me straight back down memory lane. "Hee-ello," he answered. "Tommy! Guess who?" I asked. I guess my voice must have been similarly recognizable, since he didn't hesitate a second. "Steve-o! What are you up to? Where're you at?" He answered eagerly. It put a smile on my face. Nice to hear a happy, upbeat voice that seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. "Funny you should ask. It's a long story, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm at Tyndall, and stuck here until Christmas Day." I told him. "What happened to Chile, and Rochester?" He asked. "I was on my way home to Chile, when I lost my seat on the plane in Charleston. I couldn't get out again until the 26th, so when I saw an empty plane headed this way, I just hopped on and hoped for the best." I explained. "That's Great!" He almost shouted. "Not great that you couldn't get home, but great that you're here. You want to stay with us? You can have Greg's room, he won't be here, and I'm sure Sheri and Mom would love to see you. The place is kind of 'down' with Greg canceling his trip home at the last minute. Having you here should cheer things up a bit." He did sound enthused, and I couldn't help grinning in reply. "Don't you think you should check?" I laughed. A scream in my ear was the answer, as I heard half of a shouted conversation. "Mom! Guess Who's In Town." "No, Not Greg." "No, Go Ahead Guess." "Guess Again." "Ok, Ok - Steve." "Yeah, Steve Pelland. He's Stuck Here In Town 'Til Christmas Day." "Of Course I Told Him He Should Come Here, I'll Go Get Him." "I Will." "Yes Mom; Yes; I Won't; I Will." I was holding the phone a little away from my head, and almost missed it when he came back on. "Where should I pick you up?" He asked. "The Main Terminal, you know where that is right?" I answered. "Sure - be there in about 30 minutes. Man, this is Great!" I hung up with a big smile on my face, feeling 100% better than I had just 10 minutes earlier. I stood outside waiting for him, and about 20 minutes later the strings of Christmas lights shut off one at a time, as the place closed up for the night. It was dark and quiet, and I started to get nervous again, wondering if this had been such a good idea. I was 500 miles from my flight home and completely at the mercy of old friends. But as far as friends go, I couldn't do much better than mine, and figured at the least I wouldn't be sleeping in a lonely terminal in Charleston for two days, slowly eating my way through my meager funds. When Bob pulled up around midnight, I could see he'd gotten rid of the VW Bug he'd inherited from his mother upon turning 16, and was now driving his brother's old Two-tone Cougar. We spent a minute saying hi, and loading my gear into the trunk, and then we headed back into town, catching each other up on history. When I had first moved to Santiago, I used to write about once every couple of months, as well as call a couple of times a year. In the beginning I'd written Sheri a lot as well. She was one of the most prolific writers among my old friends, and would typically write twice to me for every one I wrote to her. Over the years, that had degenerated into holiday cards and a surprise call maybe once a year. I knew he was attending Florida State, and that Greg had graduated from Georgetown, and had moved to Japan on business. That was about it. Tommy told me all about the old gang, who was in town, who was going to what schools, what people had been up to. I told him a lot more detail about what I'd been up to. "So," he asked, "Got a girl?" "Not now. Thought I had one after the ROTC Christmas ball, but that seems to have been my mistake." I admitted. "Hard to believe. You always had someone. Every letter, every phone-call, just seems like they didn't stay the same all that long." He teased. "I don't know. I had several relationships last pretty long. Two were more than 6 months long." I argued. "Oh! Six Months!" He laughed. "How about you then," I asked in defense. "Still Erin. Almost two years now." He asked. "Shit. What does she see in you? She could do so much better." I teased. "Oh really? Like how?" "Like me!" I laughed. "Right, like that would ever happen! Don't even think about it, or you'll be sleeping in the street." He was laughing as well. "Not if I called Erin I wouldn't," I shot back. I thought it was a great comeback, but it earned me a sock in the arm. We pulled up to his house, which still looked exactly the same, and things were pretty quiet. They used the same window lights, same roof lights, same bush trimmings year after year. It was just as I remembered. Who says you can't go back? "Mom's got to work tomorrow, so I'm sure she's in bed, and you know Dave crashes early, so we better keep it down. We've got lots to do tomorrow anyway." We entered quietly and put my bag in Greg's old room. Tommy stayed and chatted for a few minutes then bid me good night, telling me to sleep in as long as I wanted, as long as it wasn't past 9:00 am, and left me to get settled. Past 9:00? Now I remembered, they'd always been an early-bird household. For me 9:00 am Was the crack of dawn. Tommy and I had breakfast at about 9:30. He was already chiding me for sleeping in and missing the whole family. We had the house to ourselves. He'd been on the phone arranging our day, and once we'd finished the pancakes, we were off to see Mike and his family. Entering Mike's house was the same as it had ever been, but more-so. People everywhere, noise, laughter, roughhousing, it was all taken in stride by Mrs. Frey. We spent a few hours visiting, and getting fed again before we could leave. Mike's older sister Peggy still looked cute to me, but not the amazing creature my memory had somehow stored away. I had to tease her about the Christmas gift she'd given me three years earlier. She'd bought me a Richard Pryor tape, thinking it was Bill Cosby. When I played it for her in my car, she exploded, calling me names and accusing me of vile intent. At the time I had felt bad, confused, angry and a host of other feelings, now thankfully we could laugh at it. When I'd been 16 I'd been somewhat in awe of her, now things were comfortable. Mike's older brother was home as well, with his live-in girlfriend who seemed awfully ill-at-ease, and must have been at least 5 years older than Dan, maybe more. That was a story I'd have to hear more about. The biggest surprise was Alice. She'd been a few years younger than us. I wasn't sure if she was 16 or 17 now, but she was a bombshell. And she was coming on to me like gangbusters. I was really nervous, with her acting all touchy-feely with her mother and Peggy there. I was suddenly glad I had chosen to stay over with Tommy. With a pretty, stacked girl that seemed so infatuated with me around, I'm afraid I might have gotten into a whole lot more trouble than I needed. When we left there Mike joined us, and it was off to see Jack and Russ. They were a year apart in age. Russ had been in our class, and we'd been friendly with him, but Jack, although a year younger was our buddy. We played on the basketball team together, and when Tommy and I formed our first band, Jack was our bassist. At the Chambers house, we once again reminisced, and had to relive our first 'gig'. We had decided to play in the school talent show. With Tommy on piano and Jack on bass, I played guitar. We had a fourth guy on drums we'd all lost contact with. We had played Elton John, Deep Purple, The Eagles, and The Beatles. We had opened with the opening riff of "Smoke on the Water", and had been a hit. We were pretty lousy, but the audience was our friends, our parents and the parents of our friends, and at the end the parents even took up a collection for us. Pretty heady stuff. We'd called ourselves Bronze Myth, and had already designed our first three album covers before we had our first birthday party gig. Jack had been tall then, and had not stopped growing; he was now 6'7" and was attending University of Florida, playing basketball. He reminded me of the time when we went on our first dates together. I had gone with Kathryn Best, easily the most lusted after girl in the whole school, who was in Jack's class a year behind me. Jack, on the other hand, had gone out with our "Valentine's Day Queen", Anne, who was in my class and almost two full years older than Jack. He was always precocious. There had been a third couple with us, Dennis and Suzanne, and Jack broke the news that Suzanne had gotten knocked up, just before I left to go overseas, and she and Dennis had gotten married. There was a huge scandal, but they stuck together, and had the baby. They lived with Suzanne's parents. Dennis was doing alright, working for Suzanne's father. While we were visiting, several friends dropped in, including the aforementioned Kathryn who lived one street over. Kathryn, the stunning brunette who had the body of a 20 year old when she was 15, and had a beautiful face with features that just slayed me. Kathryn, the very first girl I had gotten to Third Base with. She was as pretty as I remembered, and I found out she was going to be attending Mt. Holyoke the following year, which was an odd coincidence since my girlfriend from High School was a sophomore there. Going out with Kathryn, a year younger than me had been a total fiasco. We'd sat together on an out-of-town bus trip and ranked high enough in the pecking order that we got the right hand seat second from the back. These trips were our biggest dates back then. Ours was a small parochial school, and on the bus trips, the athletes, cheerleaders and student fans all rode the same bug. The 30-90 minute trips were like pep rallies on the way out, and like the back of movie theatres on the way back. There were frequent "hand-checks" and the lights would come one as our coaches would walk the aisle, but it seemed like after our wins, the checks would be a little less frequent. Our win at Pensacola was my first real 'make-out' session, as we cuddled and kissed the whole trip home. I even got a chance to play with her breast through her sweater. Less than a week later I asked her to the movies, and we sat in the back with the two other couples, probably both scared spitless and nervous as goldfish in a blender. We'd started necking, which got more and more intense, and my hands boldly went where no hands had gone before. An hour into the movie I was almost out of control, and feverish with desire, and it seemed she was willing to let me do whatever I wanted. If I'd had a little more confidence, or a little more knowledge, who knows what might have happened? As it is, I went pretty far, probably too far, and I was scared to death afterwards. She was the first girl whose flesh I'd touched underneath her clothing. I didn't call her for several days, and even avoided her at school, not knowing what to say. In short I was a total jerk. Everyone thought we should be together, she was the pretty captain of the cheerleaders, with the big boobs, and I was the Big Jock, playing all the sports, while at the same time excelling in school. She was voted "Most Popular." I was "Most Likely to Succeed." However, in this case it turned out she was "Most Slighted", and I was definitely "Most Inept." After waiting several days, amazingly patient in retrospect, she had tasked her best friend Sheri, Tommy's sister, with letting me know that she thought we shouldn't go out. Next thing you know, she was going out with some geeky looking kid, and she dated him for the rest of the school year. I'd changed schools at the end of that year, and had seen her only infrequently the following year, before moving to Santiago. Outside in the backyard, Kathryn and I walked off together and finally had a few minutes alone. "You know Kat, I don't think I ever apologized for being such an idiot, after our first date. I really am sorry." She was quiet for a while. She had a sad little look. "You know, I waited by that phone night after night, crying myself to sleep. I saw you dodging me at school and it broke my heart." "I was young and stupid. I'd never done Anything with a girl before, and could hardly even believe I was with the hottest girl in school. After all the stuff I did, God, I was so embarrassed that I'd overstepped the boundaries, and I had no idea what to say." She sat down underneath the big tree in the backyard and I sat beside her on the circular bench around it. "You could have said something to Jack maybe, or Tommy, and let them tell me. At least let me know that you liked me, or had fun. Something." She looked on the verge of tears, even 3 years later, and I felt even worse. "I know. I kept kicking myself over it. I was so angry with myself and jealous when you went out with Ricky." I admitted. "He was nice to me when I needed it." "But it seemed such an odd fit. He was a nobody; the only thing he ever did noteworthy was date you." I told her. "He lived two houses down. We'd grown up together, and when my heart was broken he picked up the pieces. He could tell something was wrong, and really made me feel a lot better." She confessed. That brought on a short period of silence. It did let me think better of Ricky, who wasn't just lucky or an opportunist. "You know, that was one of the most memorable moments in my life. Touching a girl like that for the first time. I had no idea what I should do, or what I could do, but I kept looking down the row at Dennis and Suzanne, and figured I should be able to do that too. I was in heaven; you were so amazing to be with." I told her, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. Her palm was moist. "You're telling me? You were the big 9th grader with the learner's permit and motorcycle. Big Man on Campus. The guy every girl wanted. And you wanted me. I had no idea what we should or shouldn't do on a date. I was hoping you knew." We laughed at that, remembering the intensity of those feelings. "Given a chance to do it over, I'd have camped out on your doorstep and professed my undying, eternal love the moment you walked out the door." I told her, half serious. "As I recall, you professed your love for me that evening, just before opening the top of my pants." She said with a wicked grin. I'm sure I blushed mightily. "I can't really ask forgiveness, but I really am sorry. Sorry now and sorry then. I fantasized about you for years afterwards, thinking of what could have happened if I hadn't been such a jerk. You have no idea how many of my fantasies you starred in back then." "If only you'd have let me know. Ricky was my first. It could have been you. Given half a chance, it would have been you." She had moved close and was speaking softly. "And this is my punishment. Knowing how bad I fucked up. Seeing you here, as beautiful as in my dreams, and knowing I've screwed up any chance of being with you." I placed my hand behind her head, stroking her hair. "I wouldn't say you'd screwed up Any chance, but you certainly blew that one." We were looking deeply in each other's eyes, recalling strong, painful feelings. I wanted her now, as I'd wanted her then, with a deep burning need, and I leaned forward those last two inches, and captured her lips with mine. She slid forward and melted against me, kissing me with every emotion boiling to the surface. She took my hand and placed it on her incredible chest, and I squeezed her breast, my thumb reliving that first caress of her nipple from so many years earlier. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, and then broke apart. Her eyes glistened. "I've got a boyfriend." She confessed. I nodded understanding. "If I didn't?" I reached forward pressing my index finger to her lips. "I know. I missed my chance. It's my loss." We just sat side by side a minute, in silence. "You know," she said softly, "what you did to me that night, that was part of the problem." "I know. I'm sorry if I stepped over the line." I said, even now embarrassed at the liberties I'd taken. "No, not anything wrong. What you did to me, how you made me feel. You made me cream my jeans more than once that night. It was the first time I'd ever come. I'd heard about it, but it was almost unreal. Your fingers just drove me wild. It was over a year before another guy was able to do the same." She put her hand between her legs, seemingly remembering that first night. "That makes two of us. I don't know if you knew, but I came in my pants too, and you never even touched me there. By the time I got home I was a terrible sticky mess. I snuck out and threw that underwear away before my mother could find them and ask uncomfortable questions." I told her, laughing. She gave me an odd little look, and then slid around the tree, placing its 3 foot wide trunk between us and the house. She reached out for me, and of course I followed. "Could I, I mean would you mind?" She seemed lost for words. "What? Just ask. I certainly owe you one." I told her. She didn't ask, she just started unbuckling my belt. "I always wondered, and never really had a chance to find out." With the belt open she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. "I mean, that night, you got to find out pretty much ALL about me, but I didn't; " I lifted my hips and let her pull my pants down a short ways, and then she reached up and pulled my underwear down exposing my fully erect monument to her sexiness. "I knew it, you bastard. Look at that." I didn't have to look. I knew it pretty well. And it was certainly standing tall and making me proud. She took me in hand and stroked me up and down, which after all the discussion and reminiscing was almost enough to get me off. "I just knew it. This should have been my first." She slowly stroked me up and down, and then she leaned over and took me in her mouth for just a second, sucking me deep and then releasing me. That was it. It was too much for me, and I stood up and shot my wad a good two feet out from where we were sitting. She giggled, as she helped me through my release, then pulled my underwear up back over my still dripping cock, and wiped her hand on the front of my briefs, before helping me pull my jeans back up. "If I wasn't tied up, I'd have you paying reparations," she told me as we both stood, and she slapped my hands away from my belt and finished straightening me out herself. "Let's consider it a delayed payoff. If things don't work out for you, maybe we can try it again. Rochester isn't That far from Amherst." Little did I know what the future held in store for us, but that's a different story. We walked back to the house hand-in-hand, laughing at the folly of youth, from the wizened experience of our 18 and 19 years. She had to leave shortly after, as did we, and I kissed her goodbye at the door. Once the door was closed I heard an exclamation from behind me. I turned to Tommy who said, "Now I've seen everything." "Amen," said Jack. "What?" I asked. "After how you treated her after our first date, I was certain you were on her shit-list for life." Jack explained. "Absolutely." Tommy chimed in. "Sheri said that Kathryn fantasized about doing mean and nasty things to you for years. I mean, hell, you did use her pretty bad." "I was a dope. I did some things I'd never done before, and was so embarrassed I didn't know how to even face her. So I screwed up and avoided her. I just made my apologies and we worked things out. I think she understands that I didn't try to be mean; I was just young and stupid. I didn't know what I was doing, and regretted it for years." I told them. "Geez. I always wondered how you could pass on that, when she was so available to you. You really did fuck up, didn't you?" Tommy pointed out. "Yep, not the first time, and I'm certain not the last. But we've buried the hatchet it seems." I answered "I'm just astounded that hatchet isn't in your back." Jack added. We left just a short while after that. We had one last visit to make. Teri Branson was passing through town, and wanted to see us if she could. She was just there for the day, and none of us wanted to miss out on that chance. The summer before 10th grade, I'd practically lived at Teri's. It was football time, and we were doing twice-a-days. We'd have morning practice, then a break so we wouldn't be out all day in the noon-time Florida summer sun. After the break it was afternoon practice. Teri was at our school and I never really knew her until that summer. She lived only a block from Mike, and we had run into her one day out washing the family car. We struck up a conversation, and the rest was history. I spent every football break at her house that summer. Mike didn't play football, but I'd pick him up on the way over there, and we'd hang out. She had a pool table, and a private rec-room with a stand-up arcade game. Her mother would always bring us snacks and drinks. Teri had not been popular, and was new to the school as well. But in a period of just a few months she went from a boyish figured tom-boy, to a devastatingly beautiful teen. Her breasts seemed to almost explode outwards, and once we'd met her mom, we knew where she got it from. She lost some weight, traded glasses for contacts, grew tits, lost the braces, and suddenly this beauty was in our midst, and nobody even knew about her but us. She was our secret. Tommy was going to a different high-school from me and Mike, but we still hung together most of the summer, and we had to let him in on our secret. The closest we'd come to having anything happen was a bizarre game of spin-the-bottle underneath the pool table. Mike, Tommy, me and Teri. Just an excuse for us to take turns kissing her. Her father was being transferred again at the end of the summer. I told her I was going to have a birthday party, and that we were going to play spin-the-bottle, I had hoped she'd be there, but now she was leaving. We were all upset. Tommy suggested we play now, since she couldn't make it then, and we did. It was strange but wonderful. Two weeks later she was gone. We met Teri at the mall, our planned rendezvous. We couldn't miss her; she was the center of a lot of attention. And still gorgeous. We ran up to her and had hugs all around. "I can only stay about 20 minutes," she told us with a pout. "Damn," was all I could say. So the three of us toured the mall, observing all the changes. It had been brand new the year we had been together. We grabbed some drinks, and wandered back outside, our time almost up, and barely even caught up. "Teri, I have a confession." I told her. "I know we acted pretty much like friends, but I was crazy about you. That summer I went home every evening and dreamed of you." "Hell, we all did." Tommy admitted. "We were such idiots," she said. She reached up to my collar and pulled me down for a kiss. Teri stood maybe 5 foot 1, so I had at least a foot on her in height. Bent over I let her kiss me, and I returned it eagerly. Finally she released me. "I was so confused. One day I'd like you, and then the next day you," she said nodding around the group, "and then you. I kept wondering who was going to be my first real boyfriend. I just knew it was going to be one of you. And then it was all over." She looked up at me. "I Still dream about you sometimes." All we could do was laugh it off, and say we'd get together sometime. She was living in Phoenix now, finishing high school, and it looked like she'd be going to Stanford. It was going to be hard to ever make that commute work out, not that she didn't seem like it would be worth the effort. Then her parents drove up. We said hi to her mom (who had been a secret fantasy of mine back then) and then with a last set of hugs it was goodbye to Teri. It was getting late so we dropped Mike back off at his house, driving mostly in quiet. I imagine we were all lost in thought over the quirks of fate and what might have been. For me, it was thoughts of Kathryn and Teri, two incredible opportunities that any teen would kill for, and I'd let them slip through my fingers. We dropped Mike off, but didn't go inside. As it was we were running late, and knew that if we went in, it would be a while before we got out of there. From Mike's it was a 5 minute drive back to Tommy's, but we drove past Teri's old house, just for nostalgia's sake. At Tommy's we were running late. Dinner was going to be at 6:00 pm, and somehow we'd burned the whole day. It was 5:45 before we even walked in the door, and we both wanted to clean up before dinner. The kid's rooms were served by two separate bathrooms, one at the end of the hall, and one off of Greg's room. So I stripped down to my shorts, and went to take my shower. I hadn't expected the bathroom to be full. Sheri was in their, applying the last of her makeup. Fortunately (or unfortunately) she was dressed. When I walked in, she gave a squeal, and came over and gave me a big hug. "I can't believe you're here! You're looking good." She said, stepping back and giving me the once over. "Wow, Sheri, you look great!" was all I could say. She had always been pretty. But the difference between a 15 year old Sheri and this one was night and day. The more mature Sheri was a beautiful young woman. "Thanks," she said, "I'll be out of here in a second, and you can have the place to yourself. I'm dying to talk to you." "I'll be here all night." I joked, stepping back into the room I was using, before my underwear had to undergo any more strain. I sat on the bed waiting, and after just a minute or so she poked her head in and said "It's all yours." She left the door open and walked out the other side of the bathroom. So that was one change at least that I hadn't noticed. Back in the day, this was Greg's bathroom. But since then someone had taken out the linen closet, and the old closet door now opened into Sheri's room. In retrospect it should have been obvious. With Greg away, the bathroom had a lot of stuff in it, although very neat. If I'd opened a cabinet or drawer, I would have seen all the makeup and girl's things. I was using Sheri's bathroom. I rapidly cleaned up and dressed. I was in a bit of a hurry, wanting to still wrap a couple of small presents for my hosts. I had bought several music tapes for my sister as a Christmas present, and decided to gift Tommy with one of them. I also had a photo in a frame for my mom, and decided to make the frame a family gift. It was simple, hand-made by yours truly from apple-wood. After borrowing some paper, tape, and scissors, I was ready to join everyone else just a few minutes later. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Lost At Christmas: Part 1 His First Christmas away from home, & His best gift ever. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. After my first semester in College, I was eager to go home for the holidays. I was going to school in Rochester, New York, and anybody who'd experienced the lake-effect winters on the Great Lakes would understand my desire to get to somewhere warmer. For me, that somewhere warmer was a long ways away. As a military brat, home was often a moving target, and that winter it was Santiago, Chile, where my father was stationed and where I'd graduated high-school. It was summer in Santiago, and I was looking forward to a pool-party with my old school mates for the Holidays. We didn't have a lot of money, but I was allowed to travel space available on a military flight as a Navy ROTC student. I had to get down to Charleston, South Carolina, and catch an international C1 41 flight that made a loop through Latin America. After finagling a ride to Virginia followed by a very long bus trip down the coast, I finally made it to Charleston AFB. ROTC travel orders in hand, I checked in at the desk, and verified I was on the standby list for the flight leaving on the 23rd. I wouldn't get home until Christmas Day, but better late than never. With pockets nearly empty, a hotel room was out of the question so I slept in the terminal and snacked on the cheapest eats I could get away with. There was a festive mood in the terminal, so many people rushing to get home for the holidays, and I was getting caught up in the feeling, eagerly looking forward to that very long plane ride, first to Panama, then Lima, and finally Santiago. After what seemed an interminable wait, we were an hour away from boarding when I got bumped off the flight by a group of Marines headed to Panama on Active Duty travel orders. I was devastated. The next flight left early the morning of the 26th. At least that one was a huge plane, and nearly empty so I was virtually guaranteed to get aboard, but what was I going to do for Christmas? Looking up at the outgoing flight schedules, I saw a flight listed for Tyndall AFB, Panama City, Florida. "When is the flight to Tyndall headed out?" I asked the airman behind the desk. "In an hour-and-a-half, and it's all but empty. You want on?" He asked, offering some recompense for my last minute bump. I'd lived in Panama City during 9th and 10th grade, and still had some close friends there, many I still kept in touch with. Maybe I could find someone to spend Christmas with there. It had to be better than sleeping in the terminal for 2 more days. "Please," I told him, "but hold my space for Santiago. I'll be back for that flight." I recalled there being a pretty big Greyhound station in Panama City, so I called Greyhound and checked on a bus being able to get me back in time for the flight. They had one, a 7:30 am bus on Christmas morning would get me back before midnight on Christmas. I could easily make the flight the next morning, even if it were delay a few hours. I bought a ticket, using the emergency Am Ex card my parents had given me when I headed off to college. I'd explain the $67.00 to my parents. I called my family in Santiago with the news. It had to be short call because of the expense, so I let them know I had been bumped but would be there on the 28th. I told them I was headed to Panama City, and would be taking a bus back in plenty of time for my flight. My mother cried, and my father told me to go ahead and use the credit card, but to try to keep the expenses reasonable. By the time I hung up I was pretty depressed, but at least I had a plan. Before I could try to contact anyone in Panama City, an announcement was made and suddenly I was on my way to Florida for Christmas, with no place lined up to stay, and practically broke. I was feeling a bit melancholy, but was determined to make the best of it. So there I was, at Tyndall Air Force Base, at 11:20 pm on December 23rd. I was debating who to try first. I had several close friends nearby and I expected they'd all be home for Christmas. After a short internal debate, I had narrowed it down to two. I had always gotten along well with their entire families, and I was still in pretty regular contact with both of them. Mike lived the nearest to me in the old days. He came from a big family, with 6 siblings, including Peggy, who'd been one of my first real deep infatuations. When I had been in 9th grade she'd been a senior, and was pretty and sophisticated. My yearning for her was unrequited, but I relished the idea of seeing her again after four years. She was a college senior, and would probably be home. I knew they'd welcome me, but I was concerned it would be an inconvenience. They did not have a large house, and it was bound to be crowded, particularly with three college kids home for the holiday. On top of that who knew if they had anyone else in tow? Tommy on the other hand came from a relatively well-off family who always lived well within their means. He had an older brother, who was working in Japan and unlikely to be home, a sister, Sheri, just a year behind us in school, and two much younger siblings, who I guessed would be around 9 and 10 by now. They had a spacious house, each kid had their own room, and I wouldn't be putting anybody out if I stayed there. I'd always had a crush on Sheri, but although I'd dated her best friend, I'd never gone out with her. Getting a chance to see her again would be an extra bonus. Feeling nervous and awkward, I dialed Tommy's number from memory, and luckily got him on the first call. If I'd gotten somebody else, I would have really felt uncomfortable. Tommy's answer was unmistakable. He had a funny way of saying hello when he answered the phone, and the sound of his voice took me straight back down memory lane. "Hee-ello," he answered. "Tommy! Guess who?" I asked. I guess my voice must have been similarly recognizable, since he didn't hesitate a second. "Steve-o! What are you up to? Where're you at?" He answered eagerly. It put a smile on my face. Nice to hear a happy, upbeat voice that seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. "Funny you should ask. It's a long story, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm at Tyndall, and stuck here until Christmas Day." I told him. "What happened to Chile, and Rochester?" He asked. "I was on my way home to Chile, when I lost my seat on the plane in Charleston. I couldn't get out again until the 26th, so when I saw an empty plane headed this way, I just hopped on and hoped for the best." I explained. "That's Great!" He almost shouted. "Not great that you couldn't get home, but great that you're here. You want to stay with us? You can have Greg's room, he won't be here, and I'm sure Sheri and Mom would love to see you. The place is kind of 'down' with Greg canceling his trip home at the last minute. Having you here should cheer things up a bit." He did sound enthused, and I couldn't help grinning in reply. "Don't you think you should check?" I laughed. A scream in my ear was the answer, as I heard half of a shouted conversation. "Mom! Guess Who's In Town." "No, Not Greg." "No, Go Ahead Guess." "Guess Again." "Ok, Ok - Steve." "Yeah, Steve Pelland. He's Stuck Here In Town 'Til Christmas Day." "Of Course I Told Him He Should Come Here, I'll Go Get Him." "I Will." "Yes Mom; Yes; I Won't; I Will." I was holding the phone a little away from my head, and almost missed it when he came back on. "Where should I pick you up?" He asked. "The Main Terminal, you know where that is right?" I answered. "Sure - be there in about 30 minutes. Man, this is Great!" I hung up with a big smile on my face, feeling 100% better than I had just 10 minutes earlier. I stood outside waiting for him, and about 20 minutes later the strings of Christmas lights shut off one at a time, as the place closed up for the night. It was dark and quiet, and I started to get nervous again, wondering if this had been such a good idea. I was 500 miles from my flight home and completely at the mercy of old friends. But as far as friends go, I couldn't do much better than mine, and figured at the least I wouldn't be sleeping in a lonely terminal in Charleston for two days, slowly eating my way through my meager funds. When Bob pulled up around midnight, I could see he'd gotten rid of the VW Bug he'd inherited from his mother upon turning 16, and was now driving his brother's old Two-tone Cougar. We spent a minute saying hi, and loading my gear into the trunk, and then we headed back into town, catching each other up on history. When I had first moved to Santiago, I used to write about once every couple of months, as well as call a couple of times a year. In the beginning I'd written Sheri a lot as well. She was one of the most prolific writers among my old friends, and would typically write twice to me for every one I wrote to her. Over the years, that had degenerated into holiday cards and a surprise call maybe once a year. I knew he was attending Florida State, and that Greg had graduated from Georgetown, and had moved to Japan on business. That was about it. Tommy told me all about the old gang, who was in town, who was going to what schools, what people had been up to. I told him a lot more detail about what I'd been up to. "So," he asked, "Got a girl?" "Not now. Thought I had one after the ROTC Christmas ball, but that seems to have been my mistake." I admitted. "Hard to believe. You always had someone. Every letter, every phone-call, just seems like they didn't stay the same all that long." He teased. "I don't know. I had several relationships last pretty long. Two were more than 6 months long." I argued. "Oh! Six Months!" He laughed. "How about you then," I asked in defense. "Still Erin. Almost two years now." He asked. "Shit. What does she see in you? She could do so much better." I teased. "Oh really? Like how?" "Like me!" I laughed. "Right, like that would ever happen! Don't even think about it, or you'll be sleeping in the street." He was laughing as well. "Not if I called Erin I wouldn't," I shot back. I thought it was a great comeback, but it earned me a sock in the arm. We pulled up to his house, which still looked exactly the same, and things were pretty quiet. They used the same window lights, same roof lights, same bush trimmings year after year. It was just as I remembered. Who says you can't go back? "Mom's got to work tomorrow, so I'm sure she's in bed, and you know Dave crashes early, so we better keep it down. We've got lots to do tomorrow anyway." We entered quietly and put my bag in Greg's old room. Tommy stayed and chatted for a few minutes then bid me good night, telling me to sleep in as long as I wanted, as long as it wasn't past 9:00 am, and left me to get settled. Past 9:00? Now I remembered, they'd always been an early-bird household. For me 9:00 am Was the crack of dawn. Tommy and I had breakfast at about 9:30. He was already chiding me for sleeping in and missing the whole family. We had the house to ourselves. He'd been on the phone arranging our day, and once we'd finished the pancakes, we were off to see Mike and his family. Entering Mike's house was the same as it had ever been, but more-so. People everywhere, noise, laughter, roughhousing, it was all taken in stride by Mrs. Frey. We spent a few hours visiting, and getting fed again before we could leave. Mike's older sister Peggy still looked cute to me, but not the amazing creature my memory had somehow stored away. I had to tease her about the Christmas gift she'd given me three years earlier. She'd bought me a Richard Pryor tape, thinking it was Bill Cosby. When I played it for her in my car, she exploded, calling me names and accusing me of vile intent. At the time I had felt bad, confused, angry and a host of other feelings, now thankfully we could laugh at it. When I'd been 16 I'd been somewhat in awe of her, now things were comfortable. Mike's older brother was home as well, with his live-in girlfriend who seemed awfully ill-at-ease, and must have been at least 5 years older than Dan, maybe more. That was a story I'd have to hear more about. The biggest surprise was Alice. She'd been a few years younger than us. I wasn't sure if she was 16 or 17 now, but she was a bombshell. And she was coming on to me like gangbusters. I was really nervous, with her acting all touchy-feely with her mother and Peggy there. I was suddenly glad I had chosen to stay over with Tommy. With a pretty, stacked girl that seemed so infatuated with me around, I'm afraid I might have gotten into a whole lot more trouble than I needed. When we left there Mike joined us, and it was off to see Jack and Russ. They were a year apart in age. Russ had been in our class, and we'd been friendly with him, but Jack, although a year younger was our buddy. We played on the basketball team together, and when Tommy and I formed our first band, Jack was our bassist. At the Chambers house, we once again reminisced, and had to relive our first 'gig'. We had decided to play in the school talent show. With Tommy on piano and Jack on bass, I played guitar. We had a fourth guy on drums we'd all lost contact with. We had played Elton John, Deep Purple, The Eagles, and The Beatles. We had opened with the opening riff of "Smoke on the Water", and had been a hit. We were pretty lousy, but the audience was our friends, our parents and the parents of our friends, and at the end the parents even took up a collection for us. Pretty heady stuff. We'd called ourselves Bronze Myth, and had already designed our first three album covers before we had our first birthday party gig. Jack had been tall then, and had not stopped growing; he was now 6'7" and was attending University of Florida, playing basketball. He reminded me of the time when we went on our first dates together. I had gone with Kathryn Best, easily the most lusted after girl in the whole school, who was in Jack's class a year behind me. Jack, on the other hand, had gone out with our "Valentine's Day Queen", Anne, who was in my class and almost two full years older than Jack. He was always precocious. There had been a third couple with us, Dennis and Suzanne, and Jack broke the news that Suzanne had gotten knocked up, just before I left to go overseas, and she and Dennis had gotten married. There was a huge scandal, but they stuck together, and had the baby. They lived with Suzanne's parents. Dennis was doing alright, working for Suzanne's father. While we were visiting, several friends dropped in, including the aforementioned Kathryn who lived one street over. Kathryn, the stunning brunette who had the body of a 20 year old when she was 15, and had a beautiful face with features that just slayed me. Kathryn, the very first girl I had gotten to Third Base with. She was as pretty as I remembered, and I found out she was going to be attending Mt. Holyoke the following year, which was an odd coincidence since my girlfriend from High School was a sophomore there. Going out with Kathryn, a year younger than me had been a total fiasco. We'd sat together on an out-of-town bus trip and ranked high enough in the pecking order that we got the right hand seat second from the back. These trips were our biggest dates back then. Ours was a small parochial school, and on the bus trips, the athletes, cheerleaders and student fans all rode the same bug. The 30-90 minute trips were like pep rallies on the way out, and like the back of movie theatres on the way back. There were frequent "hand-checks" and the lights would come one as our coaches would walk the aisle, but it seemed like after our wins, the checks would be a little less frequent. Our win at Pensacola was my first real 'make-out' session, as we cuddled and kissed the whole trip home. I even got a chance to play with her breast through her sweater. Less than a week later I asked her to the movies, and we sat in the back with the two other couples, probably both scared spitless and nervous as goldfish in a blender. We'd started necking, which got more and more intense, and my hands boldly went where no hands had gone before. An hour into the movie I was almost out of control, and feverish with desire, and it seemed she was willing to let me do whatever I wanted. If I'd had a little more confidence, or a little more knowledge, who knows what might have happened? As it is, I went pretty far, probably too far, and I was scared to death afterwards. She was the first girl whose flesh I'd touched underneath her clothing. I didn't call her for several days, and even avoided her at school, not knowing what to say. In short I was a total jerk. Everyone thought we should be together, she was the pretty captain of the cheerleaders, with the big boobs, and I was the Big Jock, playing all the sports, while at the same time excelling in school. She was voted "Most Popular." I was "Most Likely to Succeed." However, in this case it turned out she was "Most Slighted", and I was definitely "Most Inept." After waiting several days, amazingly patient in retrospect, she had tasked her best friend Sheri, Tommy's sister, with letting me know that she thought we shouldn't go out. Next thing you know, she was going out with some geeky looking kid, and she dated him for the rest of the school year. I'd changed schools at the end of that year, and had seen her only infrequently the following year, before moving to Santiago. Outside in the backyard, Kathryn and I walked off together and finally had a few minutes alone. "You know Kat, I don't think I ever apologized for being such an idiot, after our first date. I really am sorry." She was quiet for a while. She had a sad little look. "You know, I waited by that phone night after night, crying myself to sleep. I saw you dodging me at school and it broke my heart." "I was young and stupid. I'd never done Anything with a girl before, and could hardly even believe I was with the hottest girl in school. After all the stuff I did, God, I was so embarrassed that I'd overstepped the boundaries, and I had no idea what to say." She sat down underneath the big tree in the backyard and I sat beside her on the circular bench around it. "You could have said something to Jack maybe, or Tommy, and let them tell me. At least let me know that you liked me, or had fun. Something." She looked on the verge of tears, even 3 years later, and I felt even worse. "I know. I kept kicking myself over it. I was so angry with myself and jealous when you went out with Ricky." I admitted. "He was nice to me when I needed it." "But it seemed such an odd fit. He was a nobody; the only thing he ever did noteworthy was date you." I told her. "He lived two houses down. We'd grown up together, and when my heart was broken he picked up the pieces. He could tell something was wrong, and really made me feel a lot better." She confessed. That brought on a short period of silence. It did let me think better of Ricky, who wasn't just lucky or an opportunist. "You know, that was one of the most memorable moments in my life. Touching a girl like that for the first time. I had no idea what I should do, or what I could do, but I kept looking down the row at Dennis and Suzanne, and figured I should be able to do that too. I was in heaven; you were so amazing to be with." I told her, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. Her palm was moist. "You're telling me? You were the big 9th grader with the learner's permit and motorcycle. Big Man on Campus. The guy every girl wanted. And you wanted me. I had no idea what we should or shouldn't do on a date. I was hoping you knew." We laughed at that, remembering the intensity of those feelings. "Given a chance to do it over, I'd have camped out on your doorstep and professed my undying, eternal love the moment you walked out the door." I told her, half serious. "As I recall, you professed your love for me that evening, just before opening the top of my pants." She said with a wicked grin. I'm sure I blushed mightily. "I can't really ask forgiveness, but I really am sorry. Sorry now and sorry then. I fantasized about you for years afterwards, thinking of what could have happened if I hadn't been such a jerk. You have no idea how many of my fantasies you starred in back then." "If only you'd have let me know. Ricky was my first. It could have been you. Given half a chance, it would have been you." She had moved close and was speaking softly. "And this is my punishment. Knowing how bad I fucked up. Seeing you here, as beautiful as in my dreams, and knowing I've screwed up any chance of being with you." I placed my hand behind her head, stroking her hair. "I wouldn't say you'd screwed up Any chance, but you certainly blew that one." We were looking deeply in each other's eyes, recalling strong, painful feelings. I wanted her now, as I'd wanted her then, with a deep burning need, and I leaned forward those last two inches, and captured her lips with mine. She slid forward and melted against me, kissing me with every emotion boiling to the surface. She took my hand and placed it on her incredible chest, and I squeezed her breast, my thumb reliving that first caress of her nipple from so many years earlier. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, and then broke apart. Her eyes glistened. "I've got a boyfriend." She confessed. I nodded understanding. "If I didn't?" I reached forward pressing my index finger to her lips. "I know. I missed my chance. It's my loss." We just sat side by side a minute, in silence. "You know," she said softly, "what you did to me that night, that was part of the problem." "I know. I'm sorry if I stepped over the line." I said, even now embarrassed at the liberties I'd taken. "No, not anything wrong. What you did to me, how you made me feel. You made me cream my jeans more than once that night. It was the first time I'd ever come. I'd heard about it, but it was almost unreal. Your fingers just drove me wild. It was over a year before another guy was able to do the same." She put her hand between her legs, seemingly remembering that first night. "That makes two of us. I don't know if you knew, but I came in my pants too, and you never even touched me there. By the time I got home I was a terrible sticky mess. I snuck out and threw that underwear away before my mother could find them and ask uncomfortable questions." I told her, laughing. She gave me an odd little look, and then slid around the tree, placing its 3 foot wide trunk between us and the house. She reached out for me, and of course I followed. "Could I, I mean would you mind?" She seemed lost for words. "What? Just ask. I certainly owe you one." I told her. She didn't ask, she just started unbuckling my belt. "I always wondered, and never really had a chance to find out." With the belt open she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. "I mean, that night, you got to find out pretty much ALL about me, but I didn't; " I lifted my hips and let her pull my pants down a short ways, and then she reached up and pulled my underwear down exposing my fully erect monument to her sexiness. "I knew it, you bastard. Look at that." I didn't have to look. I knew it pretty well. And it was certainly standing tall and making me proud. She took me in hand and stroked me up and down, which after all the discussion and reminiscing was almost enough to get me off. "I just knew it. This should have been my first." She slowly stroked me up and down, and then she leaned over and took me in her mouth for just a second, sucking me deep and then releasing me. That was it. It was too much for me, and I stood up and shot my wad a good two feet out from where we were sitting. She giggled, as she helped me through my release, then pulled my underwear up back over my still dripping cock, and wiped her hand on the front of my briefs, before helping me pull my jeans back up. "If I wasn't tied up, I'd have you paying reparations," she told me as we both stood, and she slapped my hands away from my belt and finished straightening me out herself. "Let's consider it a delayed payoff. If things don't work out for you, maybe we can try it again. Rochester isn't That far from Amherst." Little did I know what the future held in store for us, but that's a different story. We walked back to the house hand-in-hand, laughing at the folly of youth, from the wizened experience of our 18 and 19 years. She had to leave shortly after, as did we, and I kissed her goodbye at the door. Once the door was closed I heard an exclamation from behind me. I turned to Tommy who said, "Now I've seen everything." "Amen," said Jack. "What?" I asked. "After how you treated her after our first date, I was certain you were on her shit-list for life." Jack explained. "Absolutely." Tommy chimed in. "Sheri said that Kathryn fantasized about doing mean and nasty things to you for years. I mean, hell, you did use her pretty bad." "I was a dope. I did some things I'd never done before, and was so embarrassed I didn't know how to even face her. So I screwed up and avoided her. I just made my apologies and we worked things out. I think she understands that I didn't try to be mean; I was just young and stupid. I didn't know what I was doing, and regretted it for years." I told them. "Geez. I always wondered how you could pass on that, when she was so available to you. You really did fuck up, didn't you?" Tommy pointed out. "Yep, not the first time, and I'm certain not the last. But we've buried the hatchet it seems." I answered "I'm just astounded that hatchet isn't in your back." Jack added. We left just a short while after that. We had one last visit to make. Teri Branson was passing through town, and wanted to see us if she could. She was just there for the day, and none of us wanted to miss out on that chance. The summer before 10th grade, I'd practically lived at Teri's. It was football time, and we were doing twice-a-days. We'd have morning practice, then a break so we wouldn't be out all day in the noon-time Florida summer sun. After the break it was afternoon practice. Teri was at our school and I never really knew her until that summer. She lived only a block from Mike, and we had run into her one day out washing the family car. We struck up a conversation, and the rest was history. I spent every football break at her house that summer. Mike didn't play football, but I'd pick him up on the way over there, and we'd hang out. She had a pool table, and a private rec-room with a stand-up arcade game. Her mother would always bring us snacks and drinks. Teri had not been popular, and was new to the school as well. But in a period of just a few months she went from a boyish figured tom-boy, to a devastatingly beautiful teen. Her breasts seemed to almost explode outwards, and once we'd met her mom, we knew where she got it from. She lost some weight, traded glasses for contacts, grew tits, lost the braces, and suddenly this beauty was in our midst, and nobody even knew about her but us. She was our secret. Tommy was going to a different high-school from me and Mike, but we still hung together most of the summer, and we had to let him in on our secret. The closest we'd come to having anything happen was a bizarre game of spin-the-bottle underneath the pool table. Mike, Tommy, me and Teri. Just an excuse for us to take turns kissing her. Her father was being transferred again at the end of the summer. I told her I was going to have a birthday party, and that we were going to play spin-the-bottle, I had hoped she'd be there, but now she was leaving. We were all upset. Tommy suggested we play now, since she couldn't make it then, and we did. It was strange but wonderful. Two weeks later she was gone. We met Teri at the mall, our planned rendezvous. We couldn't miss her; she was the center of a lot of attention. And still gorgeous. We ran up to her and had hugs all around. "I can only stay about 20 minutes," she told us with a pout. "Damn," was all I could say. So the three of us toured the mall, observing all the changes. It had been brand new the year we had been together. We grabbed some drinks, and wandered back outside, our time almost up, and barely even caught up. "Teri, I have a confession." I told her. "I know we acted pretty much like friends, but I was crazy about you. That summer I went home every evening and dreamed of you." "Hell, we all did." Tommy admitted. "We were such idiots," she said. She reached up to my collar and pulled me down for a kiss. Teri stood maybe 5 foot 1, so I had at least a foot on her in height. Bent over I let her kiss me, and I returned it eagerly. Finally she released me. "I was so confused. One day I'd like you, and then the next day you," she said nodding around the group, "and then you. I kept wondering who was going to be my first real boyfriend. I just knew it was going to be one of you. And then it was all over." She looked up at me. "I Still dream about you sometimes." All we could do was laugh it off, and say we'd get together sometime. She was living in Phoenix now, finishing high school, and it looked like she'd be going to Stanford. It was going to be hard to ever make that commute work out, not that she didn't seem like it would be worth the effort. Then her parents drove up. We said hi to her mom (who had been a secret fantasy of mine back then) and then with a last set of hugs it was goodbye to Teri. It was getting late so we dropped Mike back off at his house, driving mostly in quiet. I imagine we were all lost in thought over the quirks of fate and what might have been. For me, it was thoughts of Kathryn and Teri, two incredible opportunities that any teen would kill for, and I'd let them slip through my fingers. We dropped Mike off, but didn't go inside. As it was we were running late, and knew that if we went in, it would be a while before we got out of there. From Mike's it was a 5 minute drive back to Tommy's, but we drove past Teri's old house, just for nostalgia's sake. At Tommy's we were running late. Dinner was going to be at 6:00 pm, and somehow we'd burned the whole day. It was 5:45 before we even walked in the door, and we both wanted to clean up before dinner. The kid's rooms were served by two separate bathrooms, one at the end of the hall, and one off of Greg's room. So I stripped down to my shorts, and went to take my shower. I hadn't expected the bathroom to be full. Sheri was in their, applying the last of her makeup. Fortunately (or unfortunately) she was dressed. When I walked in, she gave a squeal, and came over and gave me a big hug. "I can't believe you're here! You're looking good." She said, stepping back and giving me the once over. "Wow, Sheri, you look great!" was all I could say. She had always been pretty. But the difference between a 15 year old Sheri and this one was night and day. The more mature Sheri was a beautiful young woman. "Thanks," she said, "I'll be out of here in a second, and you can have the place to yourself. I'm dying to talk to you." "I'll be here all night." I joked, stepping back into the room I was using, before my underwear had to undergo any more strain. I sat on the bed waiting, and after just a minute or so she poked her head in and said "It's all yours." She left the door open and walked out the other side of the bathroom. So that was one change at least that I hadn't noticed. Back in the day, this was Greg's bathroom. But since then someone had taken out the linen closet, and the old closet door now opened into Sheri's room. In retrospect it should have been obvious. With Greg away, the bathroom had a lot of stuff in it, although very neat. If I'd opened a cabinet or drawer, I would have seen all the makeup and girl's things. I was using Sheri's bathroom. I rapidly cleaned up and dressed. I was in a bit of a hurry, wanting to still wrap a couple of small presents for my hosts. I had bought several music tapes for my sister as a Christmas present, and decided to gift Tommy with one of them. I also had a photo in a frame for my mom, and decided to make the frame a family gift. It was simple, hand-made by yours truly from apple-wood. After borrowing some paper, tape, and scissors, I was ready to join everyone else just a few minutes later. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Enjoy an hour of Easy Listening Instrumental Christian Music. Each Saturday I will provide another hour of the Sweetest Sound in Town. We are a listener supported pod cast. If you have been blessed by our music I hope you will help with a tax deductible gift. You can donate on line with the Pay Pal tab on the bottom of this page. I will also be happy to send you an envelope for you to return a gift in or accept your Visa or MasterCard when you call our toll free number 1 888 382 0881. You can also send us your gift by mailing it to Shofar Broadcasting P.O. Box 1909 Charleston, W.V. 25327

Enjoy an hour of Easy Listening Christian Music. Each Saturday I will provide another hour of the Sweetest Sound in Town. We are a listener supported pod cast. If you have been blessed by our music I hope you will help with a tax deductible gift. You can donate on line with the Pay Pal tab on the bottom of this page. I will also be happy to send you an envelope for you to return a gift in or accept your Visa or MasterCard when you call our toll free number 1 888 382 0881. You can also send us your gift by mailing it to Shofar Broadcasting P.O. Box 1909 Charleston, W.V. 25327

Bright City Church gathers Sundays at 9am, 10:45am and 5pm. Join us for pre-service prayer every Sunday at 8:30am. We are located in Charleston, SC.-Learn more about Bright City Church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/⁠-Follow Bright City Church on Instagram for weekly updates: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/brightcitychurch⁠-Fill out this connection card to receive our newsletter and general updates: ⁠https://brightcity.churchcenter.com/people/forms/617531⁠-Give to our church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/giving⁠-Check out upcoming events: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/events⁠-At Bright City Church, we believe God sent his Son, Jesus to die for our salvation. We are a community of people who seek to love and sacrificially serve all people according to the heart of the Father.-Follow us on Spotify to receive alerts for new sermon uploads.

On this week's video episode, Dylan sits down with Southern Charm star Molly O'Connell to talk about stepping into her sophomore season and finding her footing in Charleston. She reflects on her time on America's Next Top Model and explains how wildly different filming Southern Charm has been. Molly opens up about navigating drama for the first time, the Craig and Austen dynamic now that Craig and Paige are broken up, and how group dynamics shift when new cast members enter the mix. She also gets real about sharing her mental health journey, body image struggles, and why being a little weird might be her superpower. Go to the BravoByBetches YouTube page to watch full length episodes every Tuesday: Youtube.com/@BravoByBetches Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

#36 in our series, "The Book of Romans: A Theology of Hope"

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidaze! This week! -Favorite Christmas songs -Concert ticketing and service fees -Talkin' Tattoos Any questions or comments 1-360-830-6660 MXPX is coming! 2026 JAN with The Suicide Machines -Friday January 9 - Vancouver, BC Commodore Ballroom -Saturday January 10 - Seattle, WA at the Showbox SOLD OUT!!!!! -Friday January 23 - Santa Cruz, CA at the Catalyst -Saturday January 24 - San Francisco,CA at the Fillmore MAR -Thursday March 26 - Washington DC at 9:30 Club -Friday March 27 - Norfolk, VA at The Norva -Saturday March 28 - Charlotte, NC at The Fillmore -Sunday March 29 - Charleston, SC at Charleston Music Hall APRIL  Saturday April 11 - Denver, CO at Mission Ballroom w/Goldfinger, Zebrahead and Home Grown https://linktr.ee/Mikeherrerapodcast Leave a voicemail- 360-830-6660 --------------------- Check out the new MxPx album 'Find A Way Home' at MxPx.com and streaming everywhere now! Sterling By Music Man Mike Herrera Signature StingRay Electric Bass Guitar - Orange Creamsicle MIKE HERRERA SIGNATURE SERIES BASS OG Listen or watch "Linoleum" here MXPX - Self Titled Deluxe Edition If you like the podcast- Subscribe, rate and review on Apple. Support what I do at MXPX.com and also add MXPX and Mike Herrera to your music libraries on whatever streaming platfrom you use. Producing and editing by Bob McKnight. @Producer_Bob

This episode was recorded on November 16th, 2025 at the Culture Center Theater in Charleston, WV. The lineup includes Russell Moore & IIIrd Tyme Out, Jack Blocker, Cole Quest & The City Pickers, Courtney Hartman, The Critton Hollow String Band. https://bit.ly/451Cjin

Is it wrong of me to say if Amanda doesn't divorce Kyle I don't need to see their relationship anymore? Does anyone want to see the Peter Pans of Charleston of anymore....? And do you think Meredith texted Brooks to call her during the argument with Heather? Tell me all of your thoughts in the comments!

Thank you for listening to this week's sermon from ONE Fellowship, where we are seeking to know Christ and to make Him known to Charleston and beyond. For more information, visit www.ONEFellowship.church

Our FINAL episode of 2025! Listen in as Nick and Josh recap this season and begin planning for a weekly episode in 2026. Back half of the show, you'll hear how our modern day Christmas traditions were birthed and inspired by darker superstitions from all over the world. Nick and Josh want to wish all of our listeners and fans a very happy holiday season, no matter what you celebrate. We'll see you much more in 2026 with a weekly podcast and a monthly Patreon podcast on Secret Societies!Follow us for updates on most social media platforms:@ StoriesintheCemetery & @ AmenParanormalResearchMusic “Renegade by Beatnik.Stories in the Cemetery Logo provided by April McGirr Designs.Please comment on this episode through Spotify or subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts!Visit our sponsor Magnanimous Beard Products at www.yourbearsuperstore.com and use code “GHOST” to receive $5 off your order!To choose an adventure with Stories in the Cemetery in Charleston, South Carolina, visit www.storiesinthecemetery.com and book your date today.To attend a Paranormal Scavenger Hunt with co host, Joshua Amen, visit www.amenparanormalresearch.com to get your tickets.Tees and Stories in the Cemetery merchandise can be found at http://tee.pub/lic/SITCThe 2025 Paranormal Investigator's Almanac and Paranormal Investigation Workbook can be found on Amazon.References Used to create this episode:(Know, 2023)(Andarge, 2024)(Dhar, 2023)ReferencesAndarge, E. (2024, December 18). When Christians joined the party: The surprising origin of Christmas. WGCU. https://www.wgcu.org/religion/2024-12-18/when-christians-joined-the-party-the-surprising-origin-of-christmasDhar, R. (2023, August 24). The Pagan Origins of Christmas: Saturnalia, Yule, and Other Pre-Christian Traditions. History Cooperative. Retrieved December 20, 2025, from https://historycooperative.org/pagan-origins-of-christmas/Know, E. (2023, January 21). The Supernatural Creatures of Christmas Folklore | by Eric Know. Medium. Retrieved December 20, 2025, from https://medium.com/@etknowlson/the-supernatural-creatures-of-christmas-folklore-9aab22a52f23The Supernatural Creatures of Christmas Folklore | by Eric Know. (2023, January 21). Medium. Retrieved December 20, 2025, from https://medium.com/@etknowlson/the-supernatural-creatures-of-christmas-folklore-9aab22a52f23

Christy Hunter started Photo Walk Nashville seven years ago after discovering Airbnb Experiences, combining her photography skills with local knowledge to create tours that capture memories for travelers. What began as open photo shoots quickly evolved as she learned to segment products for different customer types—bachelorette parties, couples, solo travelers, dog owners, and corporate groups.The conversation covers her product development journey, including early mistakes like mixing incompatible customer types and learning when to say no. Christy emphasizes the importance of local partnerships, sharing examples like teaming up with cosmetic brand Winky Lux for a home base and an apartment complex for rooftop access.On marketing, Christy shares her successful TikTok strategy: having team member Gina speak directly to camera as if she were a past guest ("You have to do this one thing in Nashville..."), which drove multiple viral videos and direct bookings. She also discusses influencer marketing from both sides—as a tour operator and as an influencer herself—stressing the importance of clear communication, doing research on engagement rates, and not asking for specific deliverables.Christy expanded to Charleston this year when a team member relocated, keeping the same operational model rather than franchising. She's also building Go To Nashville, an OTA reselling partner experiences through Tour Base's affiliate system. Looking ahead, she's focused on increasing capacity utilization rather than geographic expansion, and launching a consulting business to help other photographers and retailers enter the tourism space.Top 10 TakeawaysShe learned to segment products by customer type after mixing incompatible groups. Couples from Ohio and bachelorette parties on the same tour didn't work. She created separate experiences for bachelorette parties, dog owners, proposals, and corporate groups. She also had to add rules like no showing up intoxicated.Local partnerships solved operational problems. She partnered with Winky Lux cosmetics to use their store as a tour base. She partnered with an apartment complex to do one event per month in exchange for building access, free parking, gym, pool, and exclusive rooftop access for a champagne add-on.She met business partner Gina through Airbnb host meetups. Gina developed scheduling systems for Photo Walk and now leads their TikTok strategy. They found a part-time scheduling manager who is also one of their hosts to keep operations in the family.Styled shoots solve the content creation problem. Designate one day per quarter or year, hire models (friends and family work), hire a photographer, and simulate the tour experience. Creating content during real tours is too difficult.Their TikTok strategy: Gina speaks as if she's a past guest. She says "you have to do this one thing in Nashville" direct to camera. They had multiple viral videos and saw direct booking surges. They repeat the same hook for different demographics. TikTok shows it to different audiences each time.Influencer marketing is about clear communication and research. Look at engagement rates, not follower counts. Check if they have real followers by looking at views relative to follower count. Don't ask for specific deliverables. Show them a good time and they'll naturally post. Get expectations in writing.She hires photographers who are connectors and storytellers first. Technical skill matters, but being a people person is more important. She uses live view mode to avoid putting the camera between her and the guest. She tells guests upfront she has posing ideas so they relax.She tracks booking sources through Peak's intake form. She asks "how did you hear about us?" Her biggest...

At Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Charleston, SC, our senior pastor Rev. Craig Bailey continued his mini Advent sermon series titled Love Made Manifest.

Today on Coast To Coast Hoops Greg recaps Saturday's results, talks to Note Hornung of Your Better News about the top teams in the country being dominant, handicapping buy games before Christmas with students away from campus, & Sunday's games, & Greg picks & analyzes EVERY Sunday college basketball game!Link To Greg's Spreadsheet of handicapped lines: https://vsin.com/college-basketball/greg-petersons-daily-college-basketball-lines/Greg's TikTok With Pickmas Pick Videos: https://www.tiktok.com/@gregpetersonsports?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pcPodcast Highlights 3:12-Recap of Saturday's results21:01-Interview With Nate Hornung39:10-Start of picks Penn State vs Pittsburgh41:30-Picks & analysis for Charleston vs Northern Kentucky43:36-Picks & analysis for Quinnipiac vs Hofstra46:03-Picks & analysis for Ole Miss vs NC State48:30-Picks & analysis for Stony Brook vs Marist51:01-Picks & analysis for Vanderbilt vs Wake Forest53:18-Picks & analysis for Kennesaw St vs Alabama55:46-Picks & analysis for Southern Illinois vs Bradley58:46-Picks & analysis for Fort Wayne vs Notre Dame1:01:09-Picks & analysis for Murray St vs Valparaiso1:03:27-Picks & analysis for CS Fullerton vs Oklahoma St1:06:07-Picks & analysis for Illinois Chicago vs Charlotte1:08:12-Picks & analysis for Oregon St vs Arizona St1:10:03-Picks & analysis for CIncinnati vs Clemson1:12:10-Picks & analysis for La Salle vs Michigan1:14:39-Picks & analysis for Drake vs Evansville 1:16:31-Picks & analysis for Sam Houston vs New Mexico St1:19:09-Picks & analysis for Connecticut vs DePaul1:21:32-Picks & analysis for UW Milwaukee vs Cleveland St1:24:19-Picks & analysis for Columbia vs California1:26:53-Picks & analysis for Indiana St vs Illinois St1:30:13-Picks & analysis for Campbell vs Minnesota1:33:02-Picks & analysis for Gonzaga vs Oregon1:35:24-Picks & analysis for Long Beach St vs Iowa St1:38:07-Picks & analysis for UC Davis vs Idaho St1:40:24-Picks & analysis for Idaho vs Cal Poly1:43:14-Picks & analysis for North Dakota vs Nebraska1:45:31-Picks & analysis for UC Irvine vs North Dakota St1:48:22-Picks & analysis for Norfolk St vs UTEP1:51:04-Stat of extra games UMass Lowell vs Boston U1:53:27-Picks & analysis for Colgate vs Florida1:55:33-Picks & analysis for Lehigh vs Monmouth1:57:52-Picks & analysis for Southern vs Baylor2:00:16-Picks & analysis for Maine vs Drexel2:02:51-Picks & analysis for Central Arkansas vs SMU2:05:13-Picks & analysis for Loyola MD vs George Mason2:07:29-Picks & analysis for Presbyterian vs Manhattan2:09:44-Picks & analysis for Charleston Southern vs Furman2:11:57-Picks & analysis for VMI vs Radford2:14:14-Picks & analysis for Gardner Webb vs Tennessee2:16:44-Picks & analysis for Cornell vs Albany2:19:30-Picks & analysis for UMBC vs South FLorida2:22:20-Picks & analysis for UNC Asheville vs UAB2:24:34-Picks & analysis for Northern Arizona vs Incarnate Word2:27:10-Picks & analysis for New Hampshire vs St. Louis2:29:36-Picks & analysis for East Texas A&M vs Texas A&M2:32:06-Picks & analysis for North Florida vs Miami2:34:28-Picks & analysis for Florida A&M vs TCU2:36:37-Picks & analysis for Eastern Kentucky vs Wichita St2:39:06-Picks & analysis for Chattanooga vs Alabama A&M2:41:42-Picks & analysis for Austin Peay vs Kansas City2:44:13-Picks & analysis for Morgan St vs San Francisco2:46:39-Picks & analysis for Nicholls vs Pacific Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Bright City Church gathers Sundays at 9am, 10:45am and 5pm. Join us for pre-service prayer every Sunday at 8:30am. We are located in Charleston, SC.-Learn more about Bright City Church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/⁠-Follow Bright City Church on Instagram for weekly updates: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/brightcitychurch⁠-Fill out this connection card to receive our newsletter and general updates: ⁠https://brightcity.churchcenter.com/people/forms/617531⁠-Give to our church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/giving⁠-Check out upcoming events: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/events⁠-At Bright City Church, we believe God sent his Son, Jesus to die for our salvation. We are a community of people who seek to love and sacrificially serve all people according to the heart of the Father.-Follow us on Spotify to receive alerts for new sermon uploads.

EPISODE SUMMARY: Lesley Visser is the most highly acclaimed female sportscaster of all time. She shares her journey to becoming the first woman to achieve numerous recognitions, the people who helped get her there, and many great stories from along the way.Visser was honored as a Giants of Broadcasting by the Library of American Broadcasting Foundation at the 2025 Giants of Broadcasting & Electronic Arts luncheon and awards ceremony.On this episode of Chachi Loves Everybody, Chachi talks to Lesley Visser about:Growing up with a love of sports and getting a Carnegie Foundation scholarship to go into the male-dominated field of sports writingThe terrifying but exciting honor of being the first woman to cover the NFL Beat at The Boston GlobeTransitioning from writing to broadcasting on TV at CBS SportsGetting to present the Lombardi TrophyTraveling the world to report on major news such as the fall of the Berlin WallWorking with other legendary sports figures like Greg Gumbel and Terry Bradshaw, and riding on John Madden's busThe greatest events she's covered from Super Bowls to Final Fours to The Olympics and moreWhat it means to be a trailblazing woman, how sports reporting is evolving, and the progress that must still be madeThe role of technology in sports journalism, and her advice to future journalistsAnd More!ABOUT THIS EPISODE'S GUEST: Lesley Visser is the most highly acclaimed female sportscaster of all time. Across numerous accolades, she has been the “First” – the First woman enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame; the First woman to win the Lifetime Achievement Sports Emmy and the First woman to win the Broadcasters Foundation of America Lifetime Achievement Award; the First woman on the Network broadcasts of the Final Four, the NBA Finals, the Super Bowl and the World Series. She is the First and only woman to have presented the Championship Lombardi Trophy at the Super Bowl. She was the First woman to cover the NFL as a beat, the First woman on Monday Night Football and the First female NFL analyst in both Radio and TV. She was the First female sportscaster to carry the Olympic Torch and the only winner of the Billie Jean King “Outstanding Journalist Award.”Visser is the only sportscaster – male or female – to have worked on the network broadcasts of the Final Four, the Super Bowl, the NBA Finals, the Olympics, the World Series, the Triple Crown, the World Figure Skating Championship and the US Open Tennis.Visser was voted the No. 1 Female Sportscaster of All-Time by the National Sportscasters of America. Her career began at the Boston Globe in 1974 after she won a Carnegie Foundation grant, given to only 20 women in the country who wanted to go into jobs that were 95% male. The Boston Globe made her the First woman to cover the NFL as a beat, at a time when the credentials said, "No Women or Children in the Press Box." She was elected to the National Sports Media Hall of Fame for her writing at the Boston Globe, magazines and CBS.com, and she was voted to the Sportscasters Hall of Fame for her work at CBS, ABC, ESPN and HBO. Visser has been named a Muhammad Ali “Daughter of Greatness” and won the Newseum Award for Lifetime Achievement – First given to Walter Cronkite. She reported from the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, focusing on how sports would change in East Germany after reunification, and had the privilege, in 2013, of throwing out the First pitch for her beloved Red Sox. In October 2024, she was honored with the Vin Scully Award for Excellence in Sports Broadcasting by Fordham University's public media service, WFUV.A graduate of Boston College, which awarded her an Honorary Doctorate in 2007, she served on the Board of the V Foundation for Cancer Research for more than 20 years, while also serving on the Board of NYU's “Sports and Society.” Visser has mentored young women for decades, while speaking at colleges and businesses around the world – from Doha, Qatar, to Charleston, South Carolina, where she delivered an address at the Renaissance Weekend, founded by President Clinton. Her book, Sometimes You Have to Cross When It Says Don't Walk, is a memoir of breaking barriers. It has been optioned for both a movie and a TV series.The Hall of Fame sportscaster has spent more than 30 years at CBS and more than 45 in the business. She is a contributor to the only all-female network sports show, We Need To Talk, on CBS, and had a podcast, In Conversation with Lesley Visser, on SiriusXM. Visser has been voted one of the “Women we Love” by Esquire magazine and one of the “Five Ideal Dinner Guests” by GQ.She and her husband, Bob Kanuth, a former captain of Harvard basketball, live in Bay Harbor Islands, Florida.ABOUT THE PODCAST: Chachi Loves Everybody is brought to you by Benztown and hosted by the President of Benztown, Dave “Chachi” Denes. Get a behind-the-scenes look at the myths and legends of the radio industry.ABOUT BENZTOWN: Benztown is a leading international audio imaging, production library, voiceover, programming, podcasting, and jingle production company with over 3,000 affiliations on six different continents. Benztown provides audio brands and radio stations of all formats with end-to-end imaging and production, making high-quality sound and world- class audio branding a reality for radio stations of all market sizes and budgets. Benztown was named to the prestigious Inc. 5000 by Inc. magazine for five consecutive years as one of America's Fastest-Growing Privately Held Companies. With studios in Los Angeles and Stuttgart, Benztown offers the highest quality audio imaging work parts for 23 libraries across 14 music and spoken word formats including AC, Hot AC, CHR, Country, Hip Hop and R&B, Rhythmic, Classic Hits, Rock, News/Talk, Sports, and JACK. Benztown's Audio Architecture is one of the only commercial libraries that is built exclusively for radio spots to provide the right music for radio commercials. Benztown provides custom VO and imaging across all formats, including commercial VO and copywriting in partnership with Yamanair Creative. Benztown Radio Networks produces, markets, and distributes high-quality programming and services to radio stations around the world, including: The Rick Dees Weekly Top 40 Countdown, The Todd-N-Tyler Radio Empire, Hot Mix, Sunday Night Slow Jams with R Dub!, Flashback, Top 10 Now & Then, Hey, Morton, StudioTexter, The Rooster Show Prep, and AmeriCountry. Benztown + McVay Media Podcast Networks produces and markets premium podcasts including: IEX: Boxes and Lines and Molecular Moments.Web: benztown.comFacebook: facebook.com/benztownradioTwitter: @benztownradioLinkedIn: linkedin.com/company/benztownInstagram: instagram.com/benztownradio Enjoyed this episode of Chachi Loves Everybody? Let us know by leaving a review!

Enjoy an hour of Easy Listening Christian Music. Each Saturday I will provide another hour of the Sweetest Sound in Town. We are a listener supported pod cast. If you have been blessed by our music I hope you will help with a tax deductible gift. You can donate on line with the Pay Pal tab on the bottom of this page. I will also be happy to send you an envelope for you to return a gift in or accept your Visa or MasterCard when you call our toll free number 1 888 382 0881. You can also send us your gift by mailing it to Shofar Broadcasting P.O. Box 1909 Charleston, W.V. 25327

Enjoy an hour of Easy Listening Instrumental Christian Music. Each Saturday I will provide another hour of the Sweetest Sound in Town. We are a listener supported pod cast. If you have been blessed by our music I hope you will help with a tax deductible gift. You can donate on line with the Pay Pal tab on the bottom of this page. I will also be happy to send you an envelope for you to return a gift in or accept your Visa or MasterCard when you call our toll free number 1 888 382 0881. You can also send us your gift by mailing it to Shofar Broadcasting P.O. Box 1909 Charleston, W.V. 25327

This is one of the two shows recorded on location at the Food & Wine Classic - Charleston 2025. Maneet ChauhanThe Restaurant Guys welcome ball of fire Maneet Chauhan, accomplished chef, restaurateur and two-time winner of Tournament of Champions. They discuss the beauty of street food and the myth of authentic Indian cuisine. Hear what she has to say when people complain she doesn't make dishes like their grandmom. Carrie MoreyCarrie Morey of Callie's Hot Little Biscuit joins The Guys biscuits in hand. She tells the story of her shop and some tips on how to make a great biscuit that the Guys say is the best they've ever had!Robert F. MossRobert F. Moss is a restaurant critic, author and Contributing Barbecue Editor for Southern Living magazine, the latter is a title that makes The Guys envious. Robert delves into the regional variations and history of barbecue. He talks about the responsibility of a restaurant reviewer along with some tweaks he would like to make to Michelin Guide of the South.  InfoManeethttps://www.maneetchauhan.com/Callie's Hot Little Biscuitshttps://calliesbiscuits.com/Robert's sitehttps://robertfmoss.com/Robert's Substackhttps://substack.com/@robertfmossRobert's article about the Michelin Guide in Southern Livinghttps://www.southernliving.com/michelin-south-the-whole-story-11844636Restaurant Guys show from Big Apple BBQhttps://www.buzzsprout.com/2390435/episodes/17439027Champagne mentionedAce of SpadesEnjoy over-decorated restaurants with Christmas cocktails through January 3, 2026https://www.catherinelombardi.com/Check out New Year's Eve in New Brunswick, NJhttps://www.newbrunswicknewyearseve.com/ Become a Restaurant Guys' Regular!https://www.buzzsprout.com/2401692/subscribeMagyar Bankhttps://www.magbank.com/Withum Accounting https://www.withum.com/restaurantOur Places Stage Left Steakhttps://www.stageleft.com/ Catherine Lombardi Restauranthttps://www.catherinelombardi.com/ Stage Left Wineshophttps://www.stageleftwineshop.com/ To hear more about food, wine and the finer things in life:https://www.instagram.com/restaurantguyspodcast/https://www.facebook.com/restaurantguysReach Out to The Guys!TheGuys@restaurantguyspodcast.com**Become a Restaurant Guys Regular and get two bonus episodes per month, bonus content and Regulars Only events.**Click Below!https://www.buzzsprout.com/2401692/subscribe

In real estate, this time of year exposes something we don't talk about: feeling stuck. As the year winds down and a new one begins, even experienced agents can feel like they're spinning their wheels or like they just don't know what to do.  And the truth is, there's nothing unusual about that. Every one of us hits moments where our motivation dips, our habits slip, or our thoughts get louder than our actions. But feeling stuck doesn't mean something is wrong. More often, it simply means we've gotten caught inside our own heads.  What makes a difference isn't feeling bad when we get stuck; it's learning how to move through this quickly, and there are a few highly effective strategies you can try.  In this episode, we unpack what actually causes that “stuck” feeling, why it shows up more frequently than most agents realize, and the practical ways to regain momentum.    Things You'll Learn In This Episode    You're only one action away from momentum  Feeling stuck isn't a sign to stop; it's a sign to move. How does simply doing one small thing reset our entire trajectory?    The observer mindset changes everything  We get stuck when we believe the story in our head. What happens when we step outside ourselves and question the narrative instead of obeying it?    Momentum creates clarity, not the other way around  Most agents wait to “feel ready” before they act, but clarity comes after movement. What new possibilities open up once we just start?    Numbers reveal your patterns before you get stuck  Declines in contacts, appointments, or consistency don't happen overnight. How does tracking our metrics help us catch a slump before we're in one? About Your Host Greg Harrelson is a real estate agent, coach, trainer, and owner of Century 21 The Harrelson Group. He has been in the real estate business for over 30 years and has been professionally trained by coaches like Mike, Matthew, Tom Ferry, Chet Holmes, and Tony Robbins. He is in the top 1% of all Realtors nationwide. His goal is to empower his clients with the information necessary to make sound financial decisions while being sensitive to the experience they are looking for in real estate ownership. The Harrelson Group has been the leading office in the Myrtle Beach real estate market for years, and they have recently added a new office in Charleston, SC.   Guest Host  Abe Safa is a highly experienced real estate expert with over two decades in the industry. He is a key leader at Century 21 The Harrelson Group, where he specializes in helping clients navigate complex real estate transactions with ease. In addition to his role at Century 21, Abe is a sought-after mentor and speaker, sharing his expertise through seminars and coaching programs to help other agents succeed in the competitive real estate market. Want To Level Up Your Production? (and live anywhere in the Carolinas) Check out www.gregharrelsoncareers.com   Learn more about Infusionsoft for real estate: http://www.realestatesalessolutions.com/   Check out this episode on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, and don't forget to leave a review if you like what you heard. Your review feeds the algorithm, so our show reaches more people. Thank you!   

Sipping Código Tequila with Coby Glass: A Charleston Chat on George Strait's Spirit Join host Paul Leslie for an engaging 24-minute review of The Paul Leslie Hour, recorded live at The Matador in Charleston, South Carolina. This time, Paul is joined by professional Charleston tour guide, certified Cicerone, and beverage expert Coby Glass. With glasses in hand, they delve into a lively conversation while tasting the renowned Código Tequila, the celebrated spirit founded by the King of Country himself, George Strait. From the smooth notes of this premium tequila to stories behind tequila's history, and Coby's expert insights on beverages and Charleston's vibrant scene, this episode is a perfect blend of flavor, fun, and light-hearted talk. Whether you're a tequila enthusiast, a George Strait fan, or just love a good chat over drinks, tune in for a relaxed, comforting listening experience! Available on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts. Subscribe for more episodes featuring inspiring guests and unique conversations. #CodigoTequila #GeorgeStrait #CharlestonSC #BeverageExpert #ThePaulLeslieHour #CobyGlass

Send us a textArtificial intelligence is everywhere, but how does it fit into the world of art and arts education? On this episode of Speaking Of…College of Charleston, three faculty members discuss how AI is reshaping creative practice and teaching, from sculpture studios to fundraising classes and art history seminars. Guests include:Bex Ferrell, assistant professor in Arts Management Jarod Charzewski, studio art professor in sculptureMarian Mazzone, professor in Art History They share candid insights on the opportunities and tensions AI brings to the arts, why the creative process still matters and how educators are helping students balance efficiency with authenticity.From fundraising and marketing to sculpture and art history, this conversation dives into the opportunities and tensions AI brings to the arts. In this episode, you'll hear:Real classroom examples of students experimenting with AI toolsHow arts managers gamify AI for fundraising and marketingWhy the creative process is messy and why that mattersInsights on the future of AI art, including major museums collecting AI-generated worksResources and links:Learn more about the College of Charleston's Arts Management, Studio Art and Art and Architectural History programsExplore contemporary AI artists like Refik AnadolLos Angeles' AI Museum Dataland, opening spring 2026Full transcript and additional resources in the episode show notesOr, visit  today.charleston.edu/cofc-podcast for more episodes. 

AJ Sherrill pastors St Peter's Church in Charleston, South Carolina. He is the author of ‘Rediscovering Christmas: Surprising insights into the story you thought you knew'. He joins Belle and Justin to re-enchant… Christmas.For AJ Sherrill: https://www.ajsherrill.org/ If you found this conversation interesting, Seen & Unseen, the creators of Re-Enchanting, offers thousands of articles exploring how the Christian faith helps us understand the modern world. Discover more here: www.seenandunseen.com Radical generosity has always been central to the Christian story.Stewardship helps make it part of your everyday life.Discover how a Stewardship Giving Account makes giving simple, flexible, and rooted in faith — all in one place.https://stwdshp.org/re-enchanting Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Lauren Downie and Dan Morrison are finally putting their paws down after their Lady Gaga marathon and turn their attention to the next 'Todd' divorce in the housewives-sphere with Bronwyn and Todd from Salt Lake calling it quits. Loz and Dan unpack The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City greek tragedy trip and how the ladies have now turned them both Team Meredith before heading to Beverly Hills to draw some naked men and meet our new manifestation queen, Amanda as well as get a vague confession from Kyle Richards that she did in fact lez out with Morgan. The Real Housewives of Potomac gifted us with a possible eviction as Angel needs to make up lies about dates as catfishing becomes the least of her problems. Then on the younger scale of nonsense, Craig once again strikes fear into all women in Charleston (or he should be, but are we the only ones seeing it?) and Vanderpump Rules delivered a mid ep but with some iconic iconagraphy in the final scenes that include a lap dance and Kim's tears by the hands of new Jax/James Kennedy wannabe, Marcus.Follow Gasbagging on⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ &⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.

This week at NSTA: The Bus Stop -Executive Director Curt Macysyn welcomes first-time guest Sam Fensterstock, Senior Vice President of Business Development at Cadex Insurance Recovery and a 2026 Midwinter Meeting Sponsor. Sam shares his background and path into the school transportation industry before outlining Cadex's specialized services, including a clear explanation of “Loss of Use” damages and why pursuing them after a not-at-fault accident is critical for school bus operators. Sam and Curt discuss how Cadex supports NSTA members through the Loss of Use recovery process. The duo cover Sam's favorite Charleston, South Carolina spots, and top Southern food picks within the city. The episode concludes with how listeners can learn more about Cadex Insurance Recovery. Become a podcast subscriber and don't miss an episode of NSTA: The Bus Stop- NSTA Vendor Partners can take advantage of our comprehensive advertising package that will help you reach your target audience - private school bus operators!Support the show

In this episode of Between Two Brokers, Erin and Stacy sit down with everyone's favorite history gurly: Brittany Lavelle Tulla. They discuss her journey in historic preservation, the growth of her business, and the importance of understanding the stories behind old buildings. She emphasizes the value of historic homes in real estate, the need for community engagement in preservation efforts, and the historical context of Charleston's architecture. Brittany also highlights the significance of Upper King Street and Mount Pleasant's rich history, while advocating for the role of social media in raising awareness about preservation issues. Follow Brittany on IG: https://www.instagram.com/bvlavelletulla/?hl=en Work with Brittany: https://www.bvlhpr.com/

This is one of the two shows recorded on location at the Food & Wine Classic - Charleston 2025. Our GuestsIvy OdomThe Restaurant Guys catch up with Ivy Odom, Senior Lifestyle Editor at Southern Living Magazine, at the Food & Wine Classic - Charleston. They talk about bourbon, recipes, bacon fat, and how those support her passion for Southern cooking and hospitality. James LondonJames London of Charleston's Chubby Fish and Seahorse stops by for a chat. Chubby Fish received a mention in the Michelin Guide and spot on The All-Time Eater 38. James describes the democratic method for procuring a table at Chubby Fish and the distinctive service once you are seated. With an eye to the future, James outfitted his new bar Seahorse with the hope we can still get cocktails there in 20 years. Hunter LewisHunter Lewis, editor-in-chief of Food & Wine magazine, shares his perspective on the evolving culinary landscape, the importance of in-person events, and the blend of digital growth to facilitate storytelling. He offers the best hedge against AI domination: human interaction.InfoIvy's bookhttps://www.ivyodom.com/cookbookIvy @ Southern Livinghttps://www.southernliving.com/author/ivy-odomJames' placehttps://www.chubbyfishcharleston.com/Hunter @ Food & Winehttps://www.foodandwine.com/Enjoy over-decorated restaurants with Christmas cocktails through January 6, 2026https://www.catherinelombardi.com/Check out New Year's Eve in New Brunswick, NJhttps://www.newbrunswicknewyearseve.com/ Become a Restaurant Guys' Regular!https://www.buzzsprout.com/2401692/subscribeMagyar Bankhttps://www.magbank.com/Withum Accounting https://www.withum.com/restaurantOur Places Stage Left Steakhttps://www.stageleft.com/ Catherine Lombardi Restauranthttps://www.catherinelombardi.com/ Stage Left Wineshophttps://www.stageleftwineshop.com/ To hear more about food, wine and the finer things in life:https://www.instagram.com/restaurantguyspodcast/https://www.facebook.com/restaurantguysReach Out to The Guys!TheGuys@restaurantguyspodcast.com**Become a Restaurant Guys Regular and get two bonus episodes per month, bonus content and Regulars Only events.**Click Below!https://www.buzzsprout.com/2401692/subscribe

Welcome back to The Pre Nup, the podcast that helps you plan your dream wedding without losing your mind! This week, Adriana sits down with Francesca DiSalvo-Follmer, longtime planner and partner at The Waverly, the brand-new venue redefining what a Charleston wedding can look like. With 16 years in the industry, Francesca understands exactly what couples need—from flexible bar packages to trustworthy caterers to suites that don't just look pretty on Instagram but actually work for wedding-day chaos. She shares the intentional choices behind The Waverly's design and why modern, trend-forward brides are flocking to it. We're also diving into Charleston wedding weekends—beach yoga, boat days, Uptown Social welcome parties, by-the-way after-parties, and Bodega hangover brunches. Consider this your ultimate Charleston itinerary. Episode Highlights: - How to plan guest counts (and why seated vs. cocktail style matters) - Tenting timelines, weather strategy, and Francesca's best wedding hack - Why “venue coordinator =/= wedding planner” - Charleston Activities for your out-of-town guests beyond food + drinks - Francesca's Charleston secret spots you HAVE to try

#36 in our series, "The  Book of Romans: A Theology of Hope"

You have to forgive people who wrong you…right? The world is filled with injustice and wrongdoing, and to live in the world — to not be consumed by anger — forgiveness is necessary. At least that's what we're told over and over again: By forgiving, we can set ourselves free.But is there a cost to forgiveness? Are we forgiving too quickly and too often? Today's guest is philosopher Myisha Cherry, whose book Failures of Forgiveness critiques our cultural obsession with forgiving those who have done us wrong. She's not against forgiveness — that would be weird — but she says we ought to be more intentional about why we do it, more aware that the expectation to practice forgiveness often lands on the most vulnerable people, and more concerned about what gets lost when we treat forgiveness as the only path to healing.  Sean and Myisha discuss the 2015 Charleston church shooting, the legacy of slavery, and the real difference between accountability, reconciliation, and simply moving on. Host: Sean Illing (@SeanIlling) Guest: Myisha Cherry (@myishacherry), associate professor of philosophy at the University of California Riverside, and author of Failures of Forgiveness: What We Get Wrong and How to Do Better. This episode was made in partnership with Vox's Future Perfect team. Vox had full discretion over the content of this reporting. We would love to hear from you. To tell us what you thought of this episode, email us at thegrayarea@vox.com or leave us a voicemail at 1-800-214-5749. Your comments and questions help us make a better show. And you can watch new episodes of The Gray Area on YouTube.Listen to The Gray Area ad-free by becoming a Vox Member: vox.com/members. This holiday season, your membership goes further: when you join Vox as an annual Member, we'll gift a free membership to a reader who can't afford it. By joining today, you'll get 30% off for an annual membership, and we'll match your membership. And if you can't afford it, visit that same link to apply for a free membership through our gift program. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Some buildings carry history. Others carry the weight of every soul that ever passed through their doors. The Old Charleston Jail, standing for nearly two centuries atop a former burial ground, belongs firmly in the latter category. Once home to the imprisoned, the condemned, and in many cases, the unjustly accused, this massive stone structure holds echoes of a time when punishment was swift, survival was uncertain, and justice was often a matter of interpretation. Though the final cell door closed long ago, the building has never fully settled. Visitors and investigators alike report the unmistakable clatter of chains where none remain, soft murmurs drifting through vacant corridors, and presences that seem all too aware of who enters their domain. The question is no longer whether the Old Charleston Jail is haunted, but why its spirits still linger. We step into the jail's storied halls to explore the layers of suffering, injustice, and unsettled energy that refuse to fade. What keeps these spirits tied to the place? And what can we learn from a structure that remembers its past far too well? #thegravetalks #oldcharlestonjail #hauntedcharleston #paranormalpodcast #hauntedhistory #charlestonspirits #ghoststories #historicjails #trueghoststories #supernaturalencounters #paranormalinvestigation #hauntedplaces Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Some buildings carry history. Others carry the weight of every soul that ever passed through their doors. The Old Charleston Jail, standing for nearly two centuries atop a former burial ground, belongs firmly in the latter category. Once home to the imprisoned, the condemned, and in many cases, the unjustly accused, this massive stone structure holds echoes of a time when punishment was swift, survival was uncertain, and justice was often a matter of interpretation. Though the final cell door closed long ago, the building has never fully settled. Visitors and investigators alike report the unmistakable clatter of chains where none remain, soft murmurs drifting through vacant corridors, and presences that seem all too aware of who enters their domain. The question is no longer whether the Old Charleston Jail is haunted, but why its spirits still linger. We step into the jail's storied halls to explore the layers of suffering, injustice, and unsettled energy that refuse to fade. What keeps these spirits tied to the place? And what can we learn from a structure that remembers its past far too well? This is Part Two of our conversation. #thegravetalks #oldcharlestonjail #hauntedcharleston #paranormalpodcast #hauntedhistory #charlestonspirits #ghoststories #historicjails #trueghoststories #supernaturalencounters #paranormalinvestigation #hauntedplaces Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

-Why did bands explode in the 90's.? -Touring - Let's go through some of the day to day, ups, and downs of touring at the very beginning of MxPx, the middle and the present day way we tour. -Special tribute to Seattle's Kevin Diers, a radio DJ at KISW whom made mark on the Seattle Music scene. Any questions or comments 1-360-830-6660 MXPX is coming! 2026 JAN with The Suicide Machines -Friday January 9 - Vancouver, BC Commodore Ballroom -Saturday January 10 - Seattle, WA at the Showbox SOLD OUT!!!!! -Friday January 23 - Santa Cruz, CA at the Catalyst -Saturday January 24 - San Francisco,CA at the Fillmore MAR -Thursday March 26 - Washington DC at 9:30 Club -Friday March 27 - Norfolk, VA at The Norva -Saturday March 28 - Charlotte, NC at The Fillmore -Sunday March 29 - Charleston, SC at Charleston Music Hall APRIL  Saturday April 11 - Denver, CO at Mission Ballroom w/Goldfinger, Zebrahead and Home Grown https://linktr.ee/Mikeherrerapodcast Leave a voicemail- 360-830-6660 --------------------- Check out the new MxPx album 'Find A Way Home' at MxPx.com and streaming everywhere now! Sterling By Music Man Mike Herrera Signature StingRay Electric Bass Guitar - Orange Creamsicle MIKE HERRERA SIGNATURE SERIES BASS OG Listen or watch "Linoleum" here MXPX - Self Titled Deluxe Edition If you like the podcast- Subscribe, rate and review on Apple. Support what I do at MXPX.com and also add MXPX and Mike Herrera to your music libraries on whatever streaming platfrom you use. Producing and editing by Bob McKnight. @Producer_Bob

Christmas is a time for celebration—but for many families, it's also a time when conflict surfaces and relationships feel strained. In this timely episode of Family Vision, Dr. Rob Rienow joins Pastor Chris Sasser to answer honest questions from parents who long to reconnect with their adult children, especially those who are far from God. Drawing from the Never Too Late book and Bible study, Rob and Chris provide biblical and practical counsel for parents wrestling with emotional distance, spiritual discouragement, and relational tension. Whether your child is walking with the Lord or drifting away, this conversation will give you fresh hope and guidance for healing and influence. What You'll Learn in This Episode: - How to respond when your child's life choices grieve or repel you - Ways to rebuild trust and connection with emotionally distant children - Why balancing grace and truth is essential in adult relationships - How to ask for forgiveness and invite honest conversations - Biblical encouragement for weary parents in difficult seasons Resources Referenced: Visionary Parenting - Start reading for FREE today at https://www.visionaryfam.com/parenting Never Too Late – Start reading for FREE today and begin restoring your relationship with your adult child: https://visionaryfam.com/nevertoolate Never Too Late Conference – January 10, 2026, in Charleston, SC. Learn more and register at: https://visionaryfam.com/events Connect With Us: We'd love to hear from you! Send your prayer requests or questions to podcast@visionaryfam.com. Our team prays for every message, and we're happy to connect personally by phone or email.

Thank you for listening to this week's sermon from ONE Fellowship, where we are seeking to know Christ and to make Him known to Charleston and beyond. For more information, visit www.ONEFellowship.church

In this episode, we follow the Annabel Lee legend backward: from modern ghost tours to nineteenth-century poetry, from pirate treasure maps to academic footnotes, from Sullivan's Island beaches to a forgotten corner of a graveyard. What emerges is not a simple ghost story, but an obsession—shared by scholars, storytellers, and an entire city convinced that something precious was buried in the South Carolina Lowcountry and must be found.   Edgar Allan Poe's Charleston by  Christopher Byrd Downey   Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle By C.G. Jung   Unburied Treasure: Edgar Allan Poe in the South Carolina Lowcountry Scott Peeples, Michelle Van Parys Southern Cultures, Vol. 22, No. 2   Nevermore! Edgar Allan Poe- The Final Mystery by Julian Wiles   The New York Evening Post   The Charleston News and Courier The Sullivan's Island Edition of The Gold-Bug by Edgar Allan Poe, Frank Durham and Elizabeth Verner Hamilton

Bright City Church gathers Sundays at 9am, 10:45am and 5pm. Join us for pre-service prayer every Sunday at 8:30am. We are located in Charleston, SC.-Learn more about Bright City Church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/⁠-Follow Bright City Church on Instagram for weekly updates: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/brightcitychurch⁠-Fill out this connection card to receive our newsletter and general updates: ⁠https://brightcity.churchcenter.com/people/forms/617531⁠-Give to our church: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/giving⁠-Check out upcoming events: ⁠https://www.brightcity.church/events⁠-At Bright City Church, we believe God sent his Son, Jesus to die for our salvation. We are a community of people who seek to love and sacrificially serve all people according to the heart of the Father.-Follow us on Spotify to receive alerts for new sermon uploads.

Today's guest is Dan Pelosi, the beloved cook, creator, and entertaining expert known for his comforting Italian American dishes, cozy kitchen content, and vibrant community of followers. Over the past few years, Dan has become one of the most recognizable and adored figures in the world of home cooking. He's also the bestselling author of the cookbooks “Let's Party” and “Let's Eat.” Dan joins host Kerry Diamond to talk about his food life, his previous life in fashion retail at places like Gap and Nike, self-care, dating, baby food as an ingredient, his NYT Cooking recipes, the HBO show “Heated Rivalry,” and what he's up to for the holidays. He also shares why he and Ina Garten should never be trapped on a desert island with each other. Order The Cake IssueTickets for our Working Lunch event in Charleston tomorrow, Thursday, December 11th, hereSubscribe to our SubstackJubilee NYC 2026 tickets hereCheck out Cherry Bombe on ShopMyMore on Dan: Instagram, website, “Let's Party” cookbookMore on Kerry: Instagram

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Beneath Charleston's charm lies a history shaped by conflict, punishment, and fear—few places embody that legacy more than the Old Dungeon. For centuries, its stone walls confined pirates, traitors, dissidents, and anyone who fell on the wrong side of power. Some were held briefly. Others never left. And the stories carved into the Dungeon's past are as complex as the city itself: harsh justice, survival, corruption, and the echoes of lives abruptly altered. Today, the Dungeon stands open to the public, part museum, part warning, part memorial. Yet visitors and guides alike report that something within those walls still stirs as if the energy of its long-ago inmates hasn't quieted with time. As if some conflicts remain unresolved. We step inside Charleston's most infamous holding place to examine the lives it touched, the shadows it kept, and the lingering question: when a building has witnessed this much suffering, does the past ever truly let go? #TheGraveTalks #CharlestonDungeon #HistoricHauntings #ParanormalInvestigation #GhostStories #CharlestonHistory #SupernaturalEncounters #HauntedPrison #AmericanHistory #ParanormalPodcast  Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Beneath Charleston's charm lies a history shaped by conflict, punishment, and fear—few places embody that legacy more than the Old Dungeon. For centuries, its stone walls confined pirates, traitors, dissidents, and anyone who fell on the wrong side of power. Some were held briefly. Others never left. And the stories carved into the Dungeon's past are as complex as the city itself: harsh justice, survival, corruption, and the echoes of lives abruptly altered. Today, the Dungeon stands open to the public, part museum, part warning, part memorial. Yet visitors and guides alike report that something within those walls still stirs as if the energy of its long-ago inmates hasn't quieted with time. As if some conflicts remain unresolved. We step inside Charleston's most infamous holding place to examine the lives it touched, the shadows it kept, and the lingering question: when a building has witnessed this much suffering, does the past ever truly let go? This is Part Two of our conversation. #TheGraveTalks #CharlestonDungeon #HistoricHauntings #ParanormalInvestigation #GhostStories #CharlestonHistory #SupernaturalEncounters #HauntedPrison #AmericanHistory #ParanormalPodcast Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

 The Arduous Southern Tour and Charleston's Splendor — Nathaniel Philbrick — In 1791, Washington undertook a grueling three-month, 2,000-mile tour of the American South over "impassable" roads designed to unite the fragmented southern states with the federal government. This journey into "terra incognita" required construction of a custom carriage and immense logistical coordination involving supplies, security, and official ceremonies. In Charleston, Washingtonwas welcomed with extraordinary luxury built entirely upon the institution of slavery and enslaved labor. Philbrickinterweaves his personal research methodology, describing the role of librarians in historical investigation, and recounts climbing the spire of St. Michael's Church. Standing 186 feet in the air where Washington historically stood created a "historical vortex," dramatically bridging the temporal gap between the eighteenth century and contemporary historical consciousness. 1755