Podcasts about Chester

It's time for the legendary Bruce Willis episodes to begin! Elizabeth's dad roasts Ross and kisses Rachel, Joey feuds with a robot, and Phoebe spies on Monica and Chandler... I mean - Marcia and Chester. We also talk about the origins of the podcast and take a little trip down memory lane, discuss books we wrote as kids, American Girl, and we make a formal request for information from anyone who knows about C.H.E.E.S.E.!!Follow us on social media: Katie - @littlebabykatesChloe - @cuckooforchlochlopuffPodcast- @theywereonabreakpod

Women’s volleyball reporter Michella Chester joins Sarah to discuss what makes undefeated Nebraska so good, the biggest storylines of the NCAA season, and the crowded, complicated pro volleyball landscape. Plus, Swedish success, making good on a “Promise,” and competing for your own award. Again. Watch Alysa Liu's short program from Skate America here Watch the moment between Laufey and Liu here Watch the 11 nominees for “The Marta” and vote for your favorite here Relive Marta’s goal from the 2024 NWSL semifinals here Read about Sabrina's Mrs. Doubtfire prank here Watch Michella’s interview with Harper Murray here Follow Michella on Instagram here Still confused about volleyball rotations? Read Michella's story on the topic here Leave us a voicemail at 872-204-5070 or send us a note at goodgame@wondermedianetwork.com Follow Sarah on social! Bluesky: @sarahspain.com Instagram: @Spain2323 Follow producer Alex Azzi! Bluesky: @byalexazzi.bsky.social Instagram: @AzziArtwork See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Home sellers across the Greater Philadelphia area are wondering whether to list now or wait until 2026. Instead of opinions, we break down real data from Chester, Delaware, Montgomery County, and Philadelphia—months supply, pending sales, competition cycles, and the best timing windows. If you need a personalized plan, schedule a call with our team in the comments.

A wealthy housewife found dead. A husband with everything to lose. And a scandalous relationship put on trial.In 1960, 52-year-old Mary Burge was discovered brutally murdered in her upscale Macon home, a crime that stunned the city and exposed fractures beneath its polished Southern image. When investigators dug deeper, suspicion turned not toward an intruder but toward her husband, Chester Burge, a powerful local businessman with a reputation as a ruthless slumlord. But Chester seemed to have an airtight alibi. The case only grew more explosive when allegations surfaced about Chester's relationship with his male chauffeur, thrusting queer identity into a courtroom and a jury that struggled to separate truth from prejudice, the trial became one of Georgia's most infamous murder mysteries. In this episode, we revisit a story where class, sexuality, and Southern respectability collided in ways the public never saw coming, pulling this LGBTQ+ true crime back into the light.Hosted by Jordi and Brad, Beers With Queers brings chilling crimes, queer stories, and twisted justice to light, all with a cold one in hand.Press play, grab a drink, and join us as we uncover the darkest corners of LGBTQ+ history.

Safety within the Safe Zone is arbitrary at best. If the power dies, so do we. Content warnings for this episode include:  complex family dynamics & interpersonal conflict // apocalypse & societal collapse // darkness and shadow // visions and mind control // substance use // violence // murder // grief & loss // being chased // blackmail // death of family members & loved ones // power dynamics // class inequality // memory loss & dementia // severe injury // needlesAfterlight is performed by Amelia Som as Evlan, Em Carlson as Luce, Gina Susanna as Pen, Sean Depner as Danny, and Si Rutherford as Game Master. The voice of Francis is Jannes Wessels. Special thanks to our campaign artists. Hannah Harder, who did our cover design, and Lesly Oh, who did our character portraits. Editing, sound design and original music by Si Rutherford. For more stories, come follow us everywhere at @blackwaterdnd, and make sure you check out our Main Campaign on Monday nights at 8pm PST at twitch.tv/blackwaterdnd, as well as our library of campaigns on both youtube and your favourite podcast platform. This show is made possible by our sponsors, who really should have reminded us to bring a torch for this journey out into the endless dark. We are grateful to be sponsored by Evil Hat Productions, publishers of Blades in the Dark, along with other incredible titles such as Monster of the Week, Thirsty Sword Lesbians, Scum & Villiany, Girl by Moonlight, and so many more. With compelling mechanics, stunning art, and rich lore for whatever world you choose to bring towards the apocalypse, head on over to evilhat.com to shed some light on new games to bring to your table. This show is also sponsored by Bookwyrm Games, a Canadian tabletop company bringing you the finest in gaming essentials and accessories. Activate your senses with candles, tea, and coffee to help set the scene in your campaign, ensure your party is rolling with stellar dice at a custom table, or leave the adventure to them with their series of Quest Chests and Quest Coins. Whatever you need to bring your table to the next level, Chester the Dragon and the folks at Bookwrym have you covered. Check them out over at bookwyrmgames.com and let them know Blackwater sent you. Finally, we're thankful for our Patrons for joining us on this journey outside the Safe Zone. You too can come join us on patreon, where you can check out behind the scenes info, our talkbacks, exclusive Afterlight content and so much more. Head on over to patreon.com/blackwaterdnd for all the info. See you next time, and keep the lights on!

November 12th - Show 1093 The Chat We discussed Lee's recent weekend trip to Chester and his upcoming apartment booking in York for December. We also noted that December will have only three shows due to the last two shows of December falling on Christmas Eve and New Years [...]

The Time Riders: Part 6 An Orgy In Imperial Rome. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Another Time Excursion. "How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in plaster, upon which colorful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling away from her voluptuous tits, which could be seen through the mostly diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-colored belt cinched in at her tiny waist, making her bust look even bigger. Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd have thought getting advanced cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?" "Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the whole language thing." "Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How long did they say it usually lasted?" "Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted, merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now." And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and smiled, knowing what had happened. "Hmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica, an solum tibi libet me videre?" Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily. "Well, I know you're happy to see these;” Becky whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her barely-there clothing and exposing her tit to him, the pink nipples begging for his attention. "But;” she said, replacing the clothing and standing up again, "; we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get moving now that you're feeling better." Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded. "All right. So what's the drill again?" "Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do what with you." "So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass, right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling. Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border. Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?" "Okay, what should I expect?" he queried. "I did a little research, looking for who had a reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her so-called dress just right, Mark could see her cunt. "This villa is far enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit." She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him. "So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day." "That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Really great." "Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?" Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like, I promise, it's fine." "Hmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more attractive;” she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Do' you remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?" Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this; Mistress Aurora." "God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember; lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy." She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now let's go get 'em, tiger;” Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet, while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow. They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and nothing else. Their tits bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion. The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and Byzantium. Wealthy indeed. There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians, plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honor, the stunning Aurora of the fabled Horatius family. Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora' still had her clothes on, although only barely. Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honor, requested that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all available to anyone who attended. Mark looked back at the dance now, seeing that it was winding down, with the girls letting out calls that there supposed to represent cranes or herons crying out for mates. That was an invitation for anyone inclined to come and take them once the dance had ended. They all fell still in various poses as the drums and cymbals stopped and the room erupted in applause and cheers for their efforts. Mark smiled as one bronze-skinned beauty on the floor caught his eye. As the dancers dispersed into the crowd, she slowly walked over to him, her deep hazel eyes liquid with passion. Mark greeted her with a cup of wine, offering it to her. "I thank you," she said in a heavy accent, her Latin speech seeming formal. "Tonight is a special night indeed, is it not?" Mark paused for a half second as the tiny chip in his brain listened to what she was saying and translated it for him. Weirder still, it translated what she was saying in her voice, but in English. Her English voice sounded quite amazing to him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed at her body. He thought of how to respond, the translation coming to him readily, in his voice, so that he knew how to sound when he said it. This technology blew his mind, somewhat literally. "Yeah," he replied in Latin, nodding as he clinked his silver goblet against hers. "I am enjoying it. You dance very well." "I have to," she replied, using two hands to bring the goblet up to her lips and sipping from it, as if she'd never had wine before. Hell, maybe she hadn't for all he knew. "If a dancer does not dance well in the Flavius household, demotion to some other task, probably much more horrible, awaits them. I need to be a good dancer, if I am to keep my coveted position." "I'm sure your masters have many coveted positions where you're concerned," Mark quipped, smirking. The girl blushed and giggled, taking another sip of her wine and looked at him. "You are slave to the Mistress Aurora, yes?" Mark nodded: "I am." "What is it like to be her slave?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. Mark was the tallest person in the room, and it wasn't going unnoticed. Becky was certainly the tallest woman, but he'd heard her jest about having German barbarians in her ancestry. Everyone laughed it off, and the party continued. Mark considered for a moment before answering. "Well, I like it a lot. Sure beats the life I was living before I became her slave." "Are you her only slave?" queried the girl, clearly more than a little intrigued. She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that every time he wasn't speaking, Mark's eyes went down to her tits. They weren't as big as Becky's by any means, but they were still very nice, her soft light brown skin capped with darker brown aureoles and pronounced nipples. "Well, no," he lied, thinking on his feet. He hadn't really expected any questions along this line and would have to tell Becky whatever he said, so they could coordinate their stories if the matter came up. "I'm not really any good at counting, but there's always a lot of us around." "What do you do for her?" Shit, better make this simple but good; he thought to himself. "I'm her personal servant. I do all the most personal and intimate things for her. I dress her, I taste her food for her, I bathe her;” "Do you fuck her?" she inquired, looking over the rim of her silver cup as she took another drink, a deeper one this time. So this was the crux question, he realized. He simply nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh," she said in a quiet voice, as if his words were of concern for her. "Do; do her other servants fuck her?" He smirked: "None of the male ones, now that she's got me." She raised her eyebrow at his statement and took another drink. "Is that so?" Mark shook his head for a moment, as if he was remembering something. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude, I didn't ask your name." The girl made a wry face. "My name? Why would anyone ask for my name? I am a slave." Mark shrugged. "Well, so am I. Tell me your name, so I know what I'll be calling out in an hour." The girl almost choked on her wine, but recovered and looked up at him, as if assessing him. Finally she spoke: "Before I became a slave, my name was Nanu." Mark wasn't terribly surprised when the stupid chip in his head found out what the name meant. "So you're Egyptian and your name means 'pretty' or 'cute.'" She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to fathom how he could have possibly known that. "What is your mistress' name in my language?" she asked suspiciously. Mark blinked for a moment. "Khepri nebet." She moved closer to him. "What is your name, slave?" He smiled at her warmly, deciding it was time to move things along. "My name is Bonosus, Nanu, and I am the slave who is going to fuck you." Nanu smiled and reached out a hand to him. Becky panted as she rocked back and forth on her knees, pressing her face into her hostess' hairy cunt, lashing it with her tongue. Behind her, one of Pompeneia's slaves was gripping her hips and plowing his hard cock in and out of Becky, trying to keep up with her lusty pace. He wasn't nearly as large as Mark, nor was he as talented, but he would make her cum, given the environment. Becky was here to fuck in a Roman orgy, and what individual participants might lack in skill, her excitement would certainly make up for. Pompeneia moaned and gripped Becky's hair, loosening it further from its carefully piled arrangement. Becky didn't mind, though, as she expected to look fully disheveled and thoroughly fucked by the time this orgy was over. She'd had several cups of aged wine already and was feeling uninhibited, even for her. She slid two fingers inside her hostess, making her moan and churn her matronly hips while Becky took another stiff drink from her goblet. She then returned her mouth to Pompeneia's snatch, allowing rivulets of the dark wine to flow out over her engorged vulva before sucking on it hungrily, making the patrician woman gasp and groan loudly and thrash about on the lectus she was splayed on. The slave behind her pistoned his hips against her while she ground back against him, taking his cock as deep inside her as she could. She could feel him swelling and knew he was close to cumming, but she didn't mind if she didn't climax yet, because the day was young, and this orgy had barely started. There were so many people left to fuck. Besides, she could always track down her darling Mark if she needed serious attention, after all. The slave grunted and let out a low moan before he began spurting his cum inside her. Becky moaned into Pompeneia's cunt, sending her over the edge and making her cum shamelessly, her fat tits flopping about for all to see. Nobody cared, or if they did, they were delighted by it. There was no judgment at this orgy. As the slave pulled out, Becky clambered on top of Pompeneia and they kissed deeply, wrapping their arms around one another, tongues plunging. Becky finally sat up, smiling and straddling her hostess' hips. She smirked down at the Roman woman and then reached beneath herself, flexing her cunt muscles and teasing out the cum that the slave had just deposited in her. She smeared it all over Pompeneia's thatch and nether lips, before dragging her shaved twat up her lover's body, leaving a glistening and sticky trail of cum along the way. She squirmed and writhed on Pompeneia's tits, smearing them in the slave's essence while trying to get one of the nipples inside her cunt. Finally she wiggled her way up to Pompeneia's mouth, and the older woman gripped Becky's thighs and sucked on her smooth cunt hungrily, coaxing out all the cum she could from her guest. Becky smiled and reached back with one hand to finger Pompeneia's gooey cunt, bringing her to yet another climax, the fourth she'd received from Becky. The teacher had no doubt this woman would remember her very fondly. She finally clambered off Pompeneia and knelt beside her, the two of them kissing tenderly, sharing the cum from the slave between them, followed by Becky licking the residue off her lover's face. They whispered to one another before Becky stood and strutted away, knowing that Pompeneia's eyes were fixated on her glorious, toned ass. It felt good, knowing she was the object of desire for every single person in the entire household. Becky looked around in wonder, surrounded by actual Roman artwork, in a completely intact home with a glorious mosaic tile floor depicting a couple making love and then a hunting scene involving a lion. The plastered walls were painted in bright colors. The furniture, made of wood with brass fittings and comfortable cushions, was currently being put to the test as couples or groups around her fucked and made love in every conceivable position. She gazed down at the silver goblet in her hand, made of beaten silver and decorated with glass prisms and with a poem etched into its circumference. She picked up a small, sticky honey cake from a table, then took a bite from it before smiling wickedly and pressing it to her glorious tits, smearing the sticky honey all over them. As a female slave passed by, Becky took her gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, gently pushing her head down. The slave understood immediately and began kissing her tits, slithering her tongue around to get the gooey sweetness off Becky. The blonde woman was shivering and groaning while already smearing the honey cake against her cunt. Mark was sitting on in a low chair in a side room, holding Nanu by the waist while she bounced up and down on his lap, her arms around his shoulders and her eyes staring down into his. Her greedy cunt swallowed his cock, making her gasp and groan with each motion. Her inner muscles squeezed around him, and while Becky was definitely more skilled, and perhaps even tighter, the fact that he was actually fucking a Roman slave was an incredible thrill. She jammed her lips to his and kissed him feverishly, her fingernails raking over his back as she ground down on him, hissing and panting with lust. He found her to be incredibly exotic, and he realized that it might because he'd never met a true ethnic Egyptian before. As far as he knew, the bloodline of the ancient Egyptians had become extinct. She certainly looked exotic to him, with her deeply tan skin, hazel eyes and straight, coal-black hair. He used his strong arms to help move her up and down, almost spiking her on his cock, and her panting became a delightful yelping. There were loud cries of ecstasy from all over the house, so they paid no attention to anything else. She kissed him again before seizing up and shuddering, groaning loudly. She threw her head back and pressed her cunt down as hard as she could, cumming wildly. Mark kept pumping relentlessly, loving how her snatch clenched around him. Nanu flopped backward, her head now on the floor, arms splayed and her back arched, still pinned to Mark by his cock. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, still trembling. He smiled down at the girl, waiting for her to recover. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he took her arms and gently pulled her up to him. She almost purred and nuzzled against him, still in the throes of a sultry bliss that filled her. Nanu kissed him everywhere she could reach, including his fingertips. "You are an exquisite lover," she murmured, looking deep into his eyes and caressing his face. "No wonder your mistress needs only you for fucking." He smiled back: "I'm just happy that she doesn't mind sharing me, because I am enjoying fucking you too." She went back to kissing him gently, and was whispering things against his skin, but too softly for him to understand. She finally looked back up at him. "But you have not yet cum." Mark shook his head. "Do you fear giving me a child?" Nanu asked. He shook his head again. "Then are you barren?" "Only for this week," he quipped, grinning and enjoying her confusion at his statement. "Don't worry, I'm just conserving my strength. This orgy is a long way from over, and if I cum now, I don't know how long it will take me to recover." "Do you promise to cum in me?" Nanu asked expectantly. "I; I am just a slave, I know, but I like you, Bonosus. I want to feel your cum in me, especially if you cannot give me a child." "I think I can make that promise;” Mark replied, pulling her in for another kiss. Becky shivered as she sat on the stone bench, centered over a hole as she started to pee. She'd already cum at least six times, and she had the distinct feeling the tally would be sixty before the night was out. One woman and one man slave leaned down on either side of her and began sliding and flickering their tongues around her rock-hard nipples, making her moan in delight. She felt her legs being parted and smiled down at a freedwoman who leaned in and tongued her cunt attentively, even here in the cultus, the small, private bathroom of the Flavius family. Becky sighed and cradled the head of the woman licking her cunt, while squirming her tits against the mouths of the two slaves sucking them. The tongue of the woman between her legs sent tingles through her, and she could feel another climax building rapidly. Everything about this setting, this experience, was making her hornier and more sensitive than ever. She wrapped her arms around the necks of the man and woman sucking on her nipples and pulled them in tight, arching her back and groaning very loudly as she came, squirting into the face of the woman licking her cunt. She bucked and writhed on the seat, thankful for the anacept pills she and Mark had taken, since she'd done quite a bit of research on Roman hygiene practices. She stood finally, releasing the two slaves who were sucking on her tits, while the girl between her legs merely knelt back a little and kept her mouth pressed to Becky's cunt, massaging it with her tongue. Becky smiled down at her dreamily and winked before pulling her to her feet. They kissed deeply and then she led her out of the room, followed by the slaves. "Go and find my manservant for me," Becky instructed. "Bring him to me and I'll let him fuck you. He is a wonderful lover." The woman hurried off, while Becky found a couch and reclined, her legs spread wide. She let the male slave lap at her gooey cunt while she made out with the female. She felt so deliciously depraved in this setting, like she could let everything go and act like a harlot without consequence. Which she could. The freedwoman returned some minutes later (Becky barely remembered having sent her at this point), with Mark following. He was delightfully naked, his cock glistening with lubrication. He was holding the hand of a dark-skinned and dark-haired girl, who was clearly a slave and following behind him. The girl gaped at Becky in awe. "Hey, Becks," Mark said cheerfully in English, almost laughing as the chip in his noggin tried to translate what he was saying into Latin. "Enjoying yourself?" "Hmm, you have no idea, baby," the blonde woman purred, stretching her arms over her head so that her glorious tits thrust up toward the ceiling. "I see you've found yourself a pretty little playmate. She was one of the dancers from earlier, right?" "Yeah, I wanna see if I can somehow get all eight to fuck me at once," Mark replied, grinning. "That'll beat my record by at least a factor of; wait; you, Alexandra and her servant Lisette all at once; divided into eight;” "Don't strain yourself, Einstein," Becky said dryly. "Just suffice to say that fucking eight Roman slave-dancers at once will be more than anyone else you know will ever accomplish." "Except you, I'm betting," Mark pointed out, smirking. "Is that a challenge, young man?" Becky asked, raising her eyebrow. "What'll we wager?" he queried. He had no particular confidence that he could outfuck his Physics teacher, because she had proven to be quite a sex fiend, but he was more than willing to try, here in Imperial Rome. "Tell you what;” Becky suggested, sitting up on the couch at looking up at him, smiling lightly. "If I win, you have to let the man of my choice here in this orgy fuck you in the ass." Mark was very still, a shiver of dread going up his spine. He swallowed, waiting to hear what else she had to say. "But, if you manage to fuck more girls at one time than I take of male and female lovers at one time, I'll buy your cute little girlfriend from our host and make her ours, okay?" Mark could barely process what he was hearing. He turned his head and stared at Nanu, weighing the price of 'owning' her versus having his ass plowed by some random Roman dude. The perils of time travel. But he'd already been shot and survived, right? "You're on, Becks," he said finally. "Ya' only live once, right?" "That's the spirit," she cooed, winking at him. "Tu solum vivis unum tempus! As long as you save some of that splendid stamina and cum of yours for me. So, are you going to introduce me to your little friend?" Mark nodded and pulled the Egyptian girl forward. She seemed rather intimidated. "Becks, this is Nanu. She's Egyptian." Becky smiled kindly and patted her soft lap. Nanu let go of Mark's hand and eased herself carefully onto the blonde goddess' lap, sitting sideways. Becky put her arms around the girl's waist and looked her up and down. "Hmm, very nice, Mark;” Becky said quietly before pulling Nanu gently into her and kissing her warmly. To her credit, the slave girl did not resist at all, but melted into the kiss, moaning in pleasure. She squirmed around until she was straddling Becky, her legs hitched behind her back, and their tits squashed together. Mark stood closer and watched eagerly as their tongues tangled and they began caressing and fondling one another. Nanu shivered under Becky's divine touch, and he knew she was incredibly aroused already. Their kiss became sloppy, and they slid their tongues around one another's faces, leaving them glistening and sticky. Becky took Nanu's bottom lip in her mouth, sucking it in. The slave shivered again and let out a tiny whimper, before pulling back from the kiss and touching her fingers to the lip. She examined the fingers, noticing a trace of blood. "Yes, I bit your lip," Becky whispered to her only loud enough for Nanu and Mark to hear. "By making you bleed from our kiss, I have stated my intent to own you, Nanu. Would you like that?" Nanu's eyes widened and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good," Becky said, reaching between them and cupping the Egyptian girl's tit, giving it a gentle feel. "Now all my naughty little Bonosus has to do is manage to fuck all eight of you dancing girls at once in order to make that happen. You might want to help him a little;” She allowed the slave girl to stand and gave her a gentle pat on the rear. Nanu stood in front of Mark for a moment, looking up at him, and then hurried off. He then heard Becky giggling. "Goodness, Mark, how hard did you fuck her to make her fall that much in love with you already?" the blonde asked, her beautiful blue eyes glinting with mirth. Mark tried not to frown. "I didn't have to fuck her that hard, thank you. I've fucked you a lot harder on countless occasions." "And you'll have to fuck me much harder still to make me fall in love with you, handsome," she cooed, reaching out and stroking his cock gently. "It's time for my surprise. Have you put the little speaker things all around?" Mark nodded: "The switch to activate them and the music is in the little satchel we brought. I'll be ready." Becky smiled and stood up, moving close to Mark so that their bodies were pressing and his cock was nestled against her slick cunt, and already hardening from the contact. She smiled and traced a finger along his swelling cock while looking up into his eyes. "I'm glad to be here, Mark," she said softly, knowing that many sets of eyes were on them, and quite envious of them both. "But I'm mostly glad to be here sharing this with you. I couldn't have asked for a better time travel partner." They kissed tenderly for a moment before Becky pulled back and winked. "I'm gonna go get dressed; be ready for me." She scampered off, and he watched her magnificent ass wiggle away from him. He noticed he wasn't the only one staring. He wandered around and made sure that all the 'speakers' were strategically placed around the room for Becky's performance. They looked and felt like rocks, to be honest, so he had no idea how they worked. All he knew was that he'd tested them, and they did. Hell, they even had the music they were meant to play stored in them! Future-tech was really something. He remembered how they'd found a chrono-merchant, right in his hometown, in a secluded store he'd never noticed before. Chester had pointed them to the merchant in question, and he was happy to help them. Most of his time was spent helping customers from the far future, who happened to be visiting Mark and Becky's era, so having some locals was a refreshing change for him. The student and teacher had expressed their wish to go back to Imperial Rome and attend a real orgy. The man smiled slyly and showed them a range of items he thought they might need; clothing, currency, subtle but advanced medications to protect themselves; All it cost Mark was his collection of six vintage Star Wars Pez dispensers. Apparently, originals were big collector's items in the future. "Remind me to come back to you with my dad's Micronauts and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots!" Mark had laughed. Mark felt well-prepared for this trip, and he had to admit, he was enjoying himself. He drank from his wine while standing in front of a patrician woman, who was sitting naked on a couch and slurping hungrily back and forth on his cock. He gazed around, noting the sumptuous array of foods laid out in vast quantities for the event; it was very hard for many of the slaves to restrain themselves from eating greedily, since this type of generosity was almost unknown to them. Loaves of bread, honey-cakes, dates, figs, stuffed dormice, varieties of pulses, apricots, various fish, cheeses, boar meat, olives, and caviar, which he'd heard the hostess Pompeneia brag to Becky about being sent straight from Persia. He'd never tried caviar before, and he was surprised that he actually liked it. He blinked as he felt the patrician woman pull her mouth off his throbbing cock, which she had brought back to an impressive hardness. She had then bent over the couch, in full view of everyone in the room, and shamelessly reached back and spread her ass cheeks, exposing her puckered knot and asking him to fuck her ass. Mark bit his lip, wondering what to do; Becky wouldn't be much longer in getting ready, but slaves were obliged to satisfy all favors required of them by the legitimate guests, especially the higher-ranking patricians. He couldn't say no. He stepped up and took hold of her wobbly ass cheeks, steadying his cock against her. She moaned in anticipation of him entering her. He reached down and ran his hand up and down her sloppy cunt for several seconds, and used that lubrication to prepare her ass, sticking his index finger inside her and twisting it around. The woman groaned loudly, and he realized that she was making a show of it, announcing that she was the one getting fucked by this tall, handsome and mysterious Spanish slave of Lady Aurora's. Apparently he was something of a commodity. He would fuck her ass fast and hard, making her cum, so that he could return to his assignment from Becky. He took hold of his cock and pressed the head against her little star, pushing it through. She grunted and let out a moan. Lots of people were watching, including more than a few slaves. Slowly and firmly, Mark slid his turgid phallus deep inside her, making her cry out so loudly that he was certain she could be heard outside the villa, despite all the other carnal happenings around them. Here goes nothing; He gripped her hips and leaned over her, pressing her down into the couch as she wailed again. He began pumping in and out strongly, plowing deep inside her. Clearly she was no stranger to this, because she wasn't nearly as tight as Becky. He fucked her ass in a steady rhythm, watching as his own pulsing shaft slid in and out of her. She gasped and yelped, putting on a show for those watching. Her hands kept her ass cheeks pulled wide, so everyone could see how deep inside her Mark was. Then he took the initiative. Everyone gasped as he let go of her hips and gripped both of her wrists, pulling back toward himself and arching her spine, even as he pressed forward into her more strongly with each stroke. The woman seemed to choke on her breath, shaking and looking back at him in shock. Her face was variously flushed and pale, depending on where one looked. Her eyes seemed bleary, as if she was on the verge of tears. Her erect nipples declared her arousal as her tits protruded far in front of her back-stretched arms. He rode her as though she was a bridled horse, only her two arm were the reins. The full floppy tits shook wildly with his aggressive pounding, grinding, fucking of her asshole. But she didn't object to his aggression or dominance. "Do you think Mistress Horatia lets him take her that way?" he heard one woman ask another as she gazed on in rapt wonder. "If she does, she's a lucky cunt, she is;” whispered the other woman in response. And still he plunged his cock deep inside her ass, making the woman squeal and churn beneath him, struggling to move, but pinned by his superior strength. He could tell that the other women (and most likely some men) were jealous, because they were beginning to talk shit about her quietly. "Qualem muleirculam!" whispered a man gazing one in envy. That seemed a little harsh; Mark wasn't sure she was actually a bimbo. A shameless slut, sure. But wasn't everyone here today? "Pedica meo!" she gasped, squeezing her ass around him. "Pedica meo!" Mark fucked her faster and stronger still, driving his cock deep into her bowels, until she sounded like she was having a severe asthma attack. She wheezed and struggled, but he held her immobilized. She could not escape this exquisite torture unless he let her. He could feel her tightening, though, and he knew she wouldn't last long; exactly what he wanted. He would make sure she got the show she desired. His hips began pistoning rapidly, but with even more strength. The woman's eyes rolled into her head and her mouth dropped open. Her entire body shuddered in a long wave, and she screeched, battered by endless waves of pleasure as the orgasm crashed over her. She clenched her teeth and writhed, as if trying to escape, but she had already completely surrendered to her blissful fate. Mark dropped her wrists and now gripped her long, kinky brown hair, yanking on it to pull her up. She gasped at the unexpected but glorious sting and found herself pulled up and back against him. His hips still pumped against her ass cheeks, sliding his cock deep within, while his strong hands began to grope and almost maul her flushed, sweaty body. Helpless before him, she allowed the violation readily, whimpering and in tears. "Es scortum obscenus vilis," he growled in her ear before biting it and making her writhe in need. "You are a vile, dirty little whore, aren't you?" "Etiam!" she gasped, as his hand gripped her chin and turned her face forcefully to look into his eyes. "Yes, I am a vile, dirty whore! Fuck me in my shame!" He fucked her until she was almost limp, and finally slid out of her ass, the abused knot pulling back along with his shaft obscenely, a fact noted and commented on by anyone close enough to see. She collapsed forward over the couch again, trembling, but saying nothing. Mark turned his body and caught the gaze of another woman, who hustled over, knelt and began sucking on his cock without question. He waited while she cleaned him dutifully before noticing Becky standing by a dark corner, watching in amusement. She raised an eyebrow and he nodded. Without further ado, he subtly retrieved the remote for the things that were supposed to be speakers, and held his arms up, beckoning everyone to gather in. As the naked crowd moved in, the host and hostess came and stood near him, smiling pleasantly. Pompeneia explained that they were now to be entertained by the guest of honor, who would be dancing for them all. As if on cue with her words, slaves around the room modified the intensity of the flames coming from the braziers that illuminated the room, making it dimmer and more sensual, except for an area in the central expanse. Mark subtly pressed a button on a tiny remote he was hiding in his hand. Music emanated from around the room from the concealed speakers. He'd remembered what the T E A agents had told him about anachronistic technologies and how they would rarely work in times or eras they were not known in, but he seemed to be getting away with it so far. It occurred to him that this meant the technologies he and Becky were using were not to be discovered. Yet. He smiled as Becky seemed to shift and ripple into view, because of the flickering brazier flames. The music, he knew, would be like nothing these people had ever heard before. True, it wasn't metal, but the arrangements and instruments would be alien. Not to mention the Phil Spector-esque 'Wall of Sound' involved. Becky had told him the song was called 'Gypsy', and she now spread her arms over the head, as diaphanous strips of translucent material curled sensuously around her lovely form, and gems glittered on her forehead and navel. Gold anklets tinkled on her feet. Mark had never seen 'Lord of the Dance' before, but watching Becky, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. As wind instruments began playing while drums and strings kept a backbeat, Becky snaked and twirled around the circular space in time with the music. Everyone watched her, rapt. Mark's eyes flicked over and he saw Nanu looking on from farther back in the room, standing atop a bench to get a better view. Her eyes were wide with awe. People were still whispering as they watched; for a patrician woman to dance this way, or even know how to dance this way, was scandalous, and they loved every second of her performance. The music grew louder and more intense as the wall of sound, a concept these people couldn't even readily grasp, filled the venereum. Becky continued her cavorting, her tits bouncing about beneath the outfit she was wearing. It was more of a tease than anything, because it concealed pretty much nothing. When she kicked high, she showed her cunt to everyone. She seemingly didn't care, or was enjoying it. Probably the latter, knowing her as he did now. The music reached a crescendo and then stopped, with Becky collapsing to a sitting position, curled in on herself. The crowd clapped, cheered and catcalled enthusiastically. Seconds later, another musical piece began, this one in a style probably more familiar to the onlookers. Mark knew it was from the soundtrack of the movie 'Alexander'. It opened with tinkling chimes and what sounded like hooting bird calls. Becky slowly rose to her feet, holding an elaborate pose. Then what sounded like four hammers striking an anvil rang across the space, followed by a frenetic drum beat. Becky broke into a wild dance, spinning and prancing about with abandon. The crowd watched spellbound as the music echoed around the room. Becky's blue eyes flashed with excitement, knowing that the revelers were enchanted by her. There was no one in this room who was not sexually enthralled with her at this very moment. Even Mark, who knew her pretty much better that anyone on this planet, at any point in history, was watching her in quiet awe. It made her wet, thinking of what he'd do to her later after watching this. As she whirled in a circle close to the crowd, she took hold of a male dancer slave, and then another, leading them in the exotic and magnetic dance she now performed. Both men were naked, and she snaked her body against them, rapidly bringing them to hardness. The crowd cheered as she flung aside the strips of fabric that concealed her body, until she was as naked as the slaves. Everyone watched in astonishment as she dropped to her knees between the two men and began hungrily sucking on their cocks, each one in turn, then finally putting them both in her mouth at once, her cheeks bulging obscenely. "In the name of Suadela," breathed Pompeneia, standing next to Mark and staring dumbly. "Your mistress is the most magnificent whore I have ever seen, Bonosus." "Yeah, she's something, all right;” Mark agreed, blown away by his teacher's depravity. He thought about how much she'd been looking forward to behaving so luridly, without the consequences of biology or moral censure. She was time-travelling, for crying out loud; could there have been a better excuse? No, if he was allowed to fuck as many women as he wanted, even all at once, Becky had the right to do whatever the Hell suited her. It was a damned fool who held her to a different standard just because she was a woman. Guys who thought like that never got women as amazing as Becky. Loser incels; The music was finally ending, and he discreetly shut off the speakers with his tiny remote. Seconds later, he felt a dainty hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at Pompeneia, who smiled at him wickedly and cocked her head, indicating she should follow him. Mark took a deep breath and gently touched the nearly-invisible tab he'd put under his armpit, thankful for the vasopressin it was releasing into his system; "Heaven," Becky thought dreamily as she rode up and down slowly, the slave cock throbbing as it slid in and out of her ass. He was lying beneath her while she faced down his legs, his strong hands massaging her toned cheeks. His legs were spread to make way for another slave who knelt in front of her, thrusting back and forth to spear his rod in and out of her cunt. She groaned around the cock that was in her mouth, the freedman who owned it standing next to her beautiful face and letting her suck him. On either side, her hands were pumping vigorously on the cocks of two more slaves. "God," she thought, "I haven't done anything this wild since Frosh Week in my sophomore year. I've missed it so;” Five men at once. No regrets, no consequences. She almost giggled as she wondered where else she might fit another. Then two hands reached around from behind and began groping her ample tits, making her moan around the cock she was sucking on. Another slave had moved up behind her and settled down onto the face of the man beneath her. His hands groped her while the slave below him did something to his ass. Becky didn't care what they did to one another; she just wanted to feel as many men on her as possible. She shuddered as her nipples were pinched and she bobbed back and forth faster on the cock in her mouth, expertly swirling her tongue around the head and the shaft. Her hands twisted gently on the skin of the cocks she was holding, while she squeezed the ones inside her. She could feel them bumping against one another, separated only by a thin membrane between her cunt and ass. She gasped and almost wheezed, because they were striking deep inside her at different angles. The slave fucking her cunt was moving at an almost horizontal angle, while the one in her ass pushed straight up. It was almost; disorienting in a way. She gently pulled the two slaves she was jerking even closer, so that she could touch their cocks together, sliding them against one another. The slave behind her with his hands on her tits moved them, shifting them to her trim stomach as she pointed the two throbbing cocks at her tits, her hands stroking them rapidly. The slaves both moaned and shuddered as they spurted their cum across the expanse of her bosom, glazing the silken skin. Seconds later, she felt the cock in her mouth throb and swell, pumping a pearly offering down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, enthralled to be living her wild days all over again. Becky cried out and shook as an orgasm blossomed through her, just the first of many she planned to have in this particular tryst. Slaves leaned in and began lapping at the cum on her tits, tongues sliding along the skin or swirling around the nipples, occasionally biting and tugging on them. She leaned back, moving the man behind her to the side as she lay on the Nubian slave beneath her, still pumping in and out of her ass. She reached up and pulled the man fucking her cunt down by the shoulders, bringing him close and kissing him, their tongues rolling and wrestling about. They were both spearing up inside her now, their thrusts beginning to sync as she groaned shamelessly, filled with an exquisite wet heat. The climax that followed seconds later rocked her to her core, but she powered through it, determined to have as many more as possible. Now she let the two men fuck her while she took another hard cock in her mouth, stretching her neck back and relaxing her throat, letting it slide back and forth inside her. She gripped the hips of the man fucking her face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the unadulterated ecstasy flowing through her, needing more men to pleasure her; Mark was sitting back lazily in the shallow pool that dominated the palaestra of the Flavian villa. He gazed around at the ornate courtyard, surrounded by columns and burgeoning with ornamental plants and trees. Exotic animals like peacocks could be seen strutting across the grass; at least, they could where none of the orgy's attendees were making merry. He sighed as a dancer girl knelt behind him and massaged his shoulders, while two others were curled up against his sides, cooing and kissing his skin. Nanu, meanwhile, was sitting in his lap, facing out and moving up and down slowly on his cock, taking it deep inside herself, her fingers flexing against his supple thighs. She turned her head to look back at him, her hazel eyes glassy with pleasure. More of her fellow dancers crowded in, until he felt himself totally enveloped in wanton slave flesh. They kissed and nipped at his skin, giggling and whispering to one another. Mark knew he was supposed to be a slave, but he seemed to be getting better treatment than a lot of the guests who weren't slaves. He imagined it was because he was the manservant of the guest of honor, but he still felt like a king at the moment. One girl dangled rich grapes in front of his mouth and he bit several off, chewing and swallowing casually. Another then brought a cup of wine to his lips and he drank from it before she leaned in and kissed him, allowing the wine to flow back and forth between their mouths. As she pulled back from the kiss, she allowed the wine to spill out of her mouth, trickling down her neck and tits. Two other girls immediately leaned in and began licking the sweet offering from her skin. Nearby, on a well-cushioned couch, Lady Pompeneia was lying on her side, quite naked, moaning as her husband propped one of her legs in the air and knelt between them, sawing his cock in and out of his wife. She drank from her goblet and watched her slaves attend to Bonosus. She closed her eyes and rubbed one of her tits as she remembered what it had felt like to have his big, sturdy cock fucking her less than an hour ago, feeling his thick, warm cum pump deep inside her. She wondered how wonderful it must be to own a servant with these incredible qualities and envied Lady Aurora. She entertained the absurd notion of trying to buy him from her, but was reasonably certain that even the emperor himself wasn't rich enough to purchase the slave outright. She'd content herself with becoming friends with Lady Aurora Horatia and perhaps then having access to Bonosus' fine obelisk of endless erotic pleasures. She watched as Nanu, churning on Bonosus' lap, shuddered, arched her back and cried out, cumming hard. Two of the other dancers were sucking her tits and she seemed in ecstasy. Not that Pompeneia blamed her; Nanu was rather tiny, and that magnificent cock had to be battering the bottom of her lungs. The Egyptian girl sagged, and one of the other dancers gently pulled her off and over to the side. Nanu was immediately replaced by another girl, who straddled Bonosus' lap, facing him and sinking down with a loud sigh. Pompeneia herself shuddered and gripped her tit tightly as a little orgasm shivered through her, while her husband moaned and pushed tight against her, cumming in her. Standing nearby, a slave helped ease his master's cock out of Pompeneia and sucked it clean. The mistress of the house sighed and caressed herself, enjoying every moment of this day. What a splendid orgy this was proving to be. She sat up slowly and looked around, seeing people in ecstasy all around her; not far away, one of the guests had a servant girl pressed up against a column, and was fucking her eagerly. She was pumping her hips against him and gasping in delight. On the emerald grass nearby, two women were laying side-by-side, arms wrapped around one another while they sucked hungrily on each other's pussies. One of her slender, boyish manservants was getting fucked in the ass by a patrician man named Pontifex, and her slave was mewling loudly. She heard laughing and joyous talk as Lady Aurora entered the palaestra, completely naked and surrounded by slaves and guests, all basking in her glorious sensuality. She sauntered over to the pool and eased herself down into it, sighing and relaxing in the cool water. Pompeneia smirked; after all the endless fucking the Lady had been doing, she was surprised there weren't clouds of steam emanating from around Aurora, as the water touched her skin. She was possibly the only person in the villa to have fucked more than her servant Bonosus. Pompeneia smiled and eased herself down onto the couch, beckoning over a slave-girl to service her. "Well, Mark, I see you've won our little wager," Becky observed, smiling at him while two slaves massaged her shoulders. She parted her legs to allow a servant girl to massage her cunt, or occasionally go under the water to kiss and nibble at it. "I managed six lovers at once. You seem to have eight." "Only if we fudge," he admitted, looking around the dancer who churned on his cock, trying to keep her moaning down so he could talk. "I can reasonably do four; one on my cock, one on my mouth, and one in each hand. I; am not gonna take any in my ass, after all." "Well, at the very least you can tie me," Becky pointed out, smirking at him. "Think and try again. You won't even need to move." Mark frowned for a moment, and then gave his teacher's words some thought; he perked up after a few moments, and then nodded. He told the girl he was fucking to lean back slightly. As she did so, he beckoned another to come and stand upright between them. The slave-girl did so, and Mark started lapping at her wet twat while the girl impaled on his cock began kissing and tonguing her ass. He paused and instructed four more to kneel by his hands. They did as asked readily. He faced them in to one another in pairs, bodies squashed close together. He then pushed his four fingers on each hand into one of them, while wiggling his thumb into the other. They all moaned, because Mark had decent-sized hands and fingers (in any day and age), and began kissing and swallowing one another's tongues hungrily. "See?" Becky giggled. "Six for six, you've matched me now." "Uh-uh!" he called out, his voice muffled by the slippery twat of the slave-girl on his mouth. "Watch this!" The women all whined in protest as Mark stood up, especially the one who had been fucking him, but he assured them that this would take only a moment before all was right with the world. He got out of the water and lay down on the grass, his frame stretched out and his throbbing cock on display, pointing at the cerulean sky overhead. His arms were spread wide and his legs slightly parted. Mark quickly brought the six girls back to their original positions, with the girl who had been using his mouth now facing down his body, to kiss and play with the one bouncing up and down on his cock. The two sets of girls resumed their places on his fingers and thumbs, kissing each other eagerly again, enjoying this strange game. He began wiggling his still-wet toes, and the last two slave-dancers caught on quickly; they took hold of his ankles and lowered their gooey pussies down onto his feet, taking them inside their slippery tunnels and moaning loudly. "Octo!" Mark yelled triumphantly from beneath the cunt squirming on his face. Becky laughed in sheer delight, clapping in support of her student's ingenuity. Others looking on laughed and applauded also. A crowd was gathering around him, but everyone made sure that Lady Aurora, who had moved to the spot just vacated by her servant, could see easily. She knelt on the low, tiled bench below the water, her elbows on the grass, the endless soft blades tickling her tits as she watched. She wiggled her shapely ass, and a slave dutifully moved up behind her and slid his cock deep inside her while she gazed on. Mark was enjoying himself; never had he guessed he would have been fucking eight girls at once, not to mention Roman slave-dancers, two of whom he was pretty sure were sisters. He wiggled his fingers, thumbs and toes, he flickered and snaked his tongue inside the girl above him, and he pushed up and down with his hips, spearing deep inside the slave-girl, who cried out in rapture as his cock split her wet cunt wide open. She arched her back and cried out loudly, cumming hard. She slumped off to the side and was quickly replaced by Nanu, who was eager for more. She churned and writhed on him, occasionally looking over at Lady Aurora, who smiled and winked at her. He could feel them all squirming and trembling now, and pushed himself harder, sending them all over the edge; several moaned loudly while the one on his face kissed Nanu deeply as they both screamed, rocked by their orgasms. The girl riding his tongue fell off to the side, shaking and holding her cunt as she moaned in pleasure. He looked over at his teacher. "Becks," he panted, his face glistening with cum and flush with need. "I'm gonna cum, but I want it to be in you. Please;” Without a moment's hesitation, Becky stood, the crystalline water cascading off her glorious body. She clambered out and all the slave-girls moved aside readily, even Nanu, who dutifully knelt beside Lady Aurora as she straddled her manservant. "Thanks for waiting for me, Mark," Becky whispered as she teased her slippery cunt lips along his cock while resting her hands on his shoulders and looking down at him. "It means so much to me." "Means everything to me too, Becks," he replied, nodding. "Wanna give 'em a show, show 'em how we do it in the twenty-first century?" The blonde beauty smiled wickedly, and without another word, shoved herself down hard on her student's cock, making them both moan loudly as he pushed deep inside her. Everyone watched in awe as the two began fucking madly, Becky thrashing her hips back and forth while he pumped up and down rapidly inside her, battering her cervix with each thrust. His hands found her bouncing tits and squeezed them, making her cry out, her fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders. Pompeneia and her husband Master Flavius stood right beside them, watching in fascination. Nanu was caressing and massaging Lady Aurora's flanks and ass while she fucked Bonosus, her deep hazel eyes staring longingly at them. Becky rode Mark harder and harder, his throbbing cock stretching her cunt deliciously, making her want to scream. She held on though, squeezing around Mark, thrilled to know that everyone's eyes were on them, watching them fuck with wild abandon. With every thrust she squeezed her ass cheeks tight, feeling Mark shudder below her. Mark was panting and grunting as he fough

Carotid artery disease management has come a long way. From the days when every stroke meant an endarterectomy to a modern era defined by precision, evidence, and evolving technology. With advances in medical therapy and newer techniques like TCAR, the vascular surgeon has even more to consider when choosing the best treatment for carotid disease. Join us as we break down the major landmark trials NASCET, CREST and the Asymptomatic Carotid trials, and discuss how their findings shape our clinical decisions in practice today. Hosts: ·      Christian Hadeed -PGY 4 General Surgery, Brookdale Hospital Medical Center ·      Paul Haser -Division Chief, Vascular Surgery, Brookdale Hospital Medical Center ·      Andrew Harrington, Vascular surgery, Brookdale Hospital Medical Center ·      Lucio Flores, Vascular surgery, Brookdale Hospital Medical Center Learning Objectives: · Review the key findings and clinical implications of the NASCET, ACST, and CREST trials. · Discuss patient selection for carotid endarterectomy (CEA) vs carotid artery stenting (CAS). · Understand how age, calcification, and aortic arch anatomy affect stenting outcomes or choice between stent and CEA. · Identify how advances in medical therapy have influenced management of asymptomatic disease.  · Discuss appropriate screening/ follow up plans for patients who do not meet criteria for intervention References: -       North American Symptomatic Carotid Endarterectomy Trial Collaborators. (1991). Beneficial effect of carotid endarterectomy in symptomatic patients with high-grade carotid stenosis. The New England Journal of Medicine, 325(7), 445–453. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/1852179/ -       Brott, T. G., Hobson, R. W. II, Howard, G., Roubin, G. S., Clark, W. M., Brooks, W., ... & Howard, V. J. (2010). Stenting versus endarterectomy for treatment of carotid-artery stenosis. The New England Journal of Medicine, 363(1), 11–23. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/20505173/ -       Halliday, A., Mansfield, A., Marro, J., Peto, C., Peto, R., Potter, J., & Thomas, D.; MRC Asymptomatic Carotid Surgery Trial (ACST) Collaborative Group. (2004). Prevention of disabling and fatal strokes by successful carotid endarterectomy in patients without recent neurological symptoms: Randomized controlled trial. The Lancet, 363(9420), 1491–1502. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15135594/ -       Halliday, A., Bulbulia, R., Bonati, L. H., Chester, J., Cradduck-Bamford, A., Peto, R., & Pan, H., & the ACST-2 Collaborative Group. (2021). Second asymptomatic carotid surgery trial (ACST-2): A randomised comparison of carotid artery stenting versus carotid endarterectomy. The Lancet, 398(10305), 1065-1073. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(21)01910-3 Please visit https://behindtheknife.org to access other high-yield surgical education podcasts, videos and more.   If you liked this episode, check out our recent episodes here: https://behindtheknife.org/listen Behind the Knife Premium: General Surgery Oral Board Review Course: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/general-surgery-oral-board-review Trauma Surgery Video Atlas: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/trauma-surgery-video-atlas Dominate Surgery: A High-Yield Guide to Your Surgery Clerkship: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/dominate-surgery-a-high-yield-guide-to-your-surgery-clerkship Dominate Surgery for APPs: A High-Yield Guide to Your Surgery Rotation: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/dominate-surgery-for-apps-a-high-yield-guide-to-your-surgery-rotation Vascular Surgery Oral Board Review Course: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/vascular-surgery-oral-board-audio-review Colorectal Surgery Oral Board Review Course: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/colorectal-surgery-oral-board-audio-review Surgical Oncology Oral Board Review Course: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/surgical-oncology-oral-board-audio-review Cardiothoracic Oral Board Review Course: https://behindtheknife.org/premium/cardiothoracic-surgery-oral-board-audio-review Download our App: Apple App Store: https://apps.apple.com/us/app/behind-the-knife/id1672420049 Android/Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.btk.app&hl=en_US

The Time Riders: Part 5 A Labyrinth Palace. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the city was not silent. Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to state his business. Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for. He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well. Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be a hero. He passed through another gate that got him closer to the palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him admittance to the palace. Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded one of them. His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could, trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de Treville. Let me through." "Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know. Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does that sound good to you?" The two men looked at one another warily; the visitor was certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help Gawking as he stared at the palace around him; its splendor was beyond anything he had imagined. Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple, along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for his teacher. Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace, bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for. She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette, often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen, while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same. Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for. A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd, along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the hallway and sauntered toward him lazily. "Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly, giving him a lopsided smile. "You must' be off-duty by now." "No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at her. "Go away, slut." "C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun. Don' you like fun?" "Duty is not meant to be fun." "But these are fun," she drawled, as she stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the front of her bodice and exposing her perky tits to the man, whose eyes went wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need;” He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her tits pressed to his chest, her hips flat to his crotch. "Take me into that room and fuck me;” she breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to feel you inside me;” The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded readily and turned around to open the door. The parlor behind was empty, the perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them. Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation, because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to waste. He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise. Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and peered inside. Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way. She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut quietly before heading down the hall again. He turned a corner and then headed up some stairs, leading up to the next floor, which was apparently where Becky was being kept. He was so busy thinking about what he needed to do next that he blundered right into two guards, who grunted and then glared at him angrily. "Stupid shit!" the one man he had smacked into spat. "Watch where you are; who are you?" Mark went wide-eyed, not having expected them. His mouth seemed to work, but no sounds came forth. They blocked his ascent and continued to glare at him. "Who; are; you?" the man demanded again. Mark regained control of his voice and tried to speak. "My name is; my name is Benat;” Fuck, he'd forgotten his last name. "My name is Benat DeFlepard," he managed to say. "I am from Sully and I have' "What sort of name is DeFlepard?" snarled the one guard. "I have sealed orders," Mark interrupted, not liking where this was going. "From the Cardinal!" "Is that so?" sneered the man. "Let's see them!" Mark handed him the sealed missive scroll. The man examined it and frowned. "This is the king's seal," he growled. "What is the meaning of this?” Before the man could finish his query, Mark punched him in the face and then pulled his crème-colored tabard over his head and threw him down the stairs. The guard cursed loudly as he rolled at least two floors. Mark was too late to stop the other man from drawing his short rapier, but managed to grapple onto him, keeping himself from being run through. Mark might have been taller, but the guard was a veteran of many wars, strong and cunning. It wasn't long before he had Mark's back pressed against the wall, both men fighting for balance on the stairs. "Little shit!" he shouted, trying to press the edge of his blade against Mark's throat and slit it. They tussled, and Mark managed to wedge his arm between his neck and the rapier, feeling the sickening cold pain of the keen edge creasing his forearm. His free hand, however, snaked down to the pistol on his belt, twisting the leather until the muzzle pointed down; The stairwell echoed with a thunderous crack as Mark pulled the trigger and discharged the weapon, the iron ball punching a hole in the guard's boot and then his foot. The man groaned and staggered, releasing Mark. His ears ringing, Mark managed to shove the man down the stairs, following his comrade. He shook his head and began sprinting up the stairs, knowing the whole palace would be coming down on his head any second now. Alexandra was concealed in a secret closet in a parlor not far from the queen's quarters, listening carefully. She was wearing the red uniform of the Cardinal's personal guard, her impressive bust flattened and pulled tight with linen straps. Her golden hair was held in a ponytail while a black mask concealed her facial features. Her rapier sat on her hip and three customized pistols were concealed around her person, along with several knives balanced for throwing. She heard the discharge of a firearm, followed by shouts of alarm and fright. She hung her head and sighed. She'd been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but there seemed to be nothing for it. She would see her obligation met. Alexandra crossed herself and exited the hidden space, heading toward the Cardinal's quarters, determined to cause a distraction for Mark as he went in the opposite direction to rescue Rebecca. It was all in God's hands now. All she could hope was that Mark had remembered what his name was. Mark raced down the hallway, ignoring people who poked their heads out of various rooms and parlors to see what all the commotion was, before closing their doors and locking them in panic at the sight of him. He had his sword in one hand, his pistol in the other. Having discharged his shot already and having no idea how to readily and safely reload the damn thing, the pistol was mostly for intimidation purposes at this point. Thankfully, if he pointed it at people, they tended to make themselves scarce. A guard rushed around the corner, his halberd in hand, but Mark smashed the ornate swept hilt of his rapier into his mouth, which dissolved in a welter of blood, lips and gum before he burbled and fell over. Mark kept running. He shoulder-blocked his way past another guard, but then found himself confronted by a small group of angry servant girls, who kept swearing in French and throwing bread rolls and potatoes at him. Covering his head, he sprinted past them, resisting the urge to take a swipe at the uppity wenches. There was the room! He raced up to it and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Given the amount of noise and commotion he was causing, he shouldn't have been surprised. He stepped back and then slammed the heel of his sturdy boot into the door with all his might, knocking it out of its frame and falling to the floor. He rushed inside, looking around for his teacher, but she was nowhere in sight. That's when the heavy vase smashed into the back of his head. He was on his face on the floor, reality swimming around him. He heard someone hissing at him as he was handled roughly by his neck and his tunic. He was turned onto his back and someone was straddling him now, their supple legs on either side of his throat and their heavy skirt bunched up between their legs, allowing him to goggle up at his assaulter. "Becky! Stop! Stop, I; Ow! Jesus! Quit Hitting Me! It's Me, Mark!" The flurry of fists halted and then there was a pause thick with confusion. He felt his cheeks being gripped tightly, immobilizing his face and then his neck pulled up so that whoever was sitting on him could look at him. "Mark?" Becky exclaimed in disbelief. "Mark! Oh my God!" She began smothering him with feverish kisses, still straddling him. Still dizzy, he was in no particular shape to stop her, in spite of the fact the whole palace was on its way to kill him. His eyes finally managed to focus, and he looked up at her. "I've missed you too, Becks, but can you let me up, please?" Becky blinked and then jumped off him hastily, helping him to his feet. She still seemed stunned to see him, not that he blamed her. "How?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and wet with emotion. "You; you were." "Dead? Yeah, kinda." "The how are you here?" she asked, trembling. He shrugged. "To quote Neil De Grasse-Tyson, science, bitches." "Oh, it doesn't matter," she exhaled, crushing herself to him and hugging tight, her body shaking with raw emotion. "You're back, Mark. You came back for me;” He smiled and hugged her back, his hand on the back of her head. "Well sure I did. You're my time-travelling partner, aren't you? Can't leave you here with these smelly savages." She laugh-choked back a sob and look up at him, her eyes leaking tears onto her scarlet cheeks. "And we're gonna get out of here and; Becks, are you, like, really drunk?" Her expression of delight warped into a scowl at his query and she pushed herself away from him. "Well what do you expect? I only spent the past month trying to kill myself with alcohol while you were taking your unscheduled nap, you jerk!" "I'm sorry," he faltered, knowing that this couldn't possibly be the right time to make her angry, on so many levels. "Let me get you out of here and then I'll explain everything." "Hang on;” she huffed, stomping over to a table and grabbing her bottle of wine, tilting her head back and taking a stiff pull from it gulping loudly. Mark made a wan face and fidgeted, acutely aware of the time they were losing. "Becks, no offense, but I'm pretty sure every guard in Paris is looking for me right now, and I' "Sounds like more of a you problem than a me problem," she grunted, attempting to drain the bottle with several loud glucks. "Nobody was trying to kill me while I was here." "No, you seem to have that covered;” he said dryly. She shot him a nasty look, but didn't stop drinking. "Look, we need to go," he insisted. "Pretty sure Alexandra's risking her neck to make sure I can' "Alexandra?" Becky interrupted, stopping drinking to look at him pointedly. "The gorgeous blonde I want to fuck?" "I; sure," Mark replied, trying to keep up. "Pretty sure she and Lisette are' "Who's Lisette?" Becky asked suspiciously, lurching toward him. She was quite a bit drunker than he'd initially thought. "It doesn't matter," he declared, determined to get moving before Richelieu arrested and shot his ass again. "We need to get' Mark winced in fear as she surged toward him, the bottle raised over her head. She flew by him and smashed the bottle down on the head of a guard who had barged into the room. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went to sleep. "Weren't you drunk moments ago?" Mark asked in disbelief. "Looks like you're the one who need rescuing." Becky shot back. "You were half a second away from having an exit wound the size of an airport runway in your chest just now." Another guard sprang around the corner. Becky, who was closest to the door, kicked him savagely between the legs. The man staggered to a stop and stiffened, but didn't fall over, the impact of her foot cushioned by the many layers of baroque skirt she was wearing, not to mention the dainty, padded slipper. As the man gaped at her, she kicked him between the legs again, but her skirt interfered, softening the blow to the place where he merely doubled over from the ache. Becky snarled angrily, lunged in, grabbed him by the neck and DDT him, almost as smoothly as ‘Jake the Snake' did to fellow pro wrestlers. This time he stayed down. "Jerk!" she muttered, glaring at the man. Without a second thought, she used a knife on the man's belt to tear layers of skirt away, leaving herself clad only in the bodice and skimpy underwear, with garters holding up the silk stockings she wore. She knelt on the unconscious man's back and pulled his boots off, replacing her slippers with the sturdier footwear. She then stripped his rapier and pistol from his person before turning to look at Mark. "You ready now?" she asked pointedly, standing there in what basically amounted to negligee and musketeer boots, while holding a rapier and a wheellock pistol. He gaped at her for a moment, unable to say anything. "You have no idea how stupidly sexy you look right now, Becks." Mark managed to say. "I'll believe it when Alexandra says it to me," she sniffed, turning and heading out the door. "Let's go, hero." Mark sighed and trotted after her, leaving the two men lying on the floor in a spreading pool of wine and broken shards of glass. Lisette made sure the guard was arranged comfortably in the plush chair, snoring, his breeches still around his ankles, his soft cock oozing cum all over his balls. She shook her head in exasperation as she rearranged her skirts; no sooner had the man cum than he yawned and began to fall asleep. She'd been nowhere close to climaxing when he'd finished. Typical male. At least the boy from the future liked to make sure she came first, even if he was a naïve school boy. She left the door open, to make sure his shame was on display and then hurried down the hallway, holding her skirt up and allowing herself to run. The palace was ringing with shouts of alarm, anger and panic. Everything seemed to be going as planned, whatever that entailed. She just trusted that Mistress knew what she was doing. Guards from various regiments were racing around now, getting one another's way and shouting orders angrily. She passed through them virtually unnoticed, merely a servant girl looking for shelter. She made a beeline right for the queen's royal apartments, and she was stopped by no one, since she was known to the guards and stuff. She nodded hastily as she passed two guards outside the ornate doors and headed inside the boudoir. Anne of Austria looked up from a book to see Lisette scurry in, closing the door behind herself and then pressing her ear to the door, ignoring everyone else in the room. She then saw the queen, blinked, curtseyed hastily, and went back to eavesdropping on the frenzy of activity outside. The monarch shook her head wearily and went back to reading her book. "You may not pass through here!" shouted the house guard, blocking Alexandra's passage forward. She had identified herself as a member of the Cardinal's guard, using her well-practiced man's voice to give credit to her guise. Thought he believed her, the man remained unmoved, barring her way. "I told you, I need to reach the Cardinal!" she insisted, knowing full well he would not let her through. "That is no concern of mine," he said coldly, glaring at her, his hand on his sword, ready to draw it. "Find another way to reach your Cardinal, because if you come another step closer, I will run you through." "So be it!" she growled as she lunged in, her own rapier flashing in her hand. The man drew his weapon and thrust at her, but she parried and then drove the point of her blade through the shoulder of his sword arm, pinning him against the wall. He groaned as his sword fell to the ground, but then her foot slammed into his face while she pulled her rapier from his shoulder. He was unconscious, but he would live. She had no cause to kill these men. She ran down the hallway, listening all the while to the commotion that echoed through the Louvre. A young guard barred her progress at a juncture in the hallways, and before he was even ready, she struck him across the head with the basket of her rapier, knocking him out. Alexandra continued along the corridor, but then saw several guards rushing into the other end of the hall, outside of an ornate door that led to the king's royal apartments. Upon seeing her, the six men pointed their muskets at her, three kneeling while the other three stood behind. A series of barks shook the area as she ducked around a corner hastily, avoiding their barrage. She could hear them shouting orders to reload. She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. Idiots. Before they had reloaded, she had pulled a small device made of two pieces of flint out of her pocket, along with a tiny clay pot out of the other. From the hole in the top of the pot hung a thin strip of rigid paper. She held the pot by its flat bottom and snapped the flint pieces against one another, producing sparks that caught on the paper and began to burn. As the flame made its way down the paper wick, she counted slowly and calmly before leaning around the corner, tossing the pot, which skated on its flat bottom along the floor toward the guards who opposed her. She then ducked back, waiting grimly. There were shouts and the sound of boots stampeding, but then an unreal hissing shriek and a bright, flaring white light as the magnesium powder inside the container ignited. Cries of pain followed. Ten seconds later, the light died, and she rounded the corner and strode down the hallway. Four of the six guards had fled before the grenade went off, while two were writhing on the ground, clutching at their eyes from the flash blindness. She stepped between them and kicked in the door toward the king's apartments before turning around and walking away, knowing that this would create additional confusion as they sought to find the assassin in the red tabard who sought to slay the Sun King. There was more chaos to sow. Mark and Becky sprinted down the hall, ignoring the pell-mell going on around them. Inevitably, though, they were confronted by a soldier of the Cardinal, one that Mark recognized. It was the captain who had shot him. Marks teeth clenched as he rushed forward, ready to run the sonofabitch through, but Becky was faster. She threw herself into a skid, sliding along the polished floor, hurtling straight toward the man. He gaped at her in disbelief, but by then, she had slammed her foot into his crotch, doubling him over with a grunt of unreal pain. With a roar, she surged to her feet, grabbed the man around the middle from behind and yanked him over backwards, suplexing his family jewels with zest. Mark had by now skidded to a halt and watched in disbelief while his teacher stood over the supine officer and kicked him in the ribs. "Bastard!" she raged. "Teach you to kill my students!" She knelt and yanked his head up, making sure his eyes were open as she pointed at Mark, her voice dripping with vitriol. "See that? He's alive! You can't even kill something right! Your life means nothing! Nothing!" She smacked his head off the tile floor and gathered up her weapons before looking at Mark, composing herself now. "Sorry," she said with a flush of embarrassment. "You probably wanted him, didn't you? I thought you were dead, so if I ever saw him again, I'd have to avenge you." Mark shrugged. "No harm done. Except to him, and I don't really' Mark stopped talking and stared down the hallway behind Becky. Three men in flamboyant uniforms, trimmed in blue and white like himself were now approaching them. One had a grim, patrician air and about him, the second a handsome boyish charm, while the third towered over the others by a head and shoulders, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "That can't be good;” he thought. Becky didn't even blink. Without turning around, she pointed her pistol backwards over her shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bark of the shot echoed around the palace and the giant staggered backward, eyes wide in shock, before he fell over like a redwood. The other two gaped at her in astonishment as she turned around to glower at them. They hastily took hold of their downed friend and hauled him out of sight, their duty to the king forgotten. "That's right, ladies, run!" Becky called out, her chest heaving. "How's it feel to get beat up by a girl?" "You are so sexy right now, Becks." Mark chuckled, approaching her. She turned back to face him; covered with gunpowder smudges, scratches and the occasional bruise, she'd never looked more attractive to him. Heedless of their surroundings, she threw herself against him and kissed him shamelessly. His hands found her ass and squeezed as he returned the kiss and she moaned into his mouth. If there'd been a rhino horn on his crotch, he'd have been impaled on it. She broke the kiss and looked at him hungrily, her eyes shouldering with desire. "I'm so glad you're not dead, Mark," she breathed. "I can't wait to prove it to you when we get the fuck out of here." Mark took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, breaking into a run. They weren't out of danger yet. "What're you laughing about?" she asked, scowling while she allowed him to lead her through the palace. "I think that was Porthos you shot," he said almost cheerfully. "Becks, you ganked Porthos." "Oh, I did not," she hissed, trying to not feel disgust at her student's lack of historical knowledge and basic temporal mechanics. "Porthos doesn't die until 1670. So if that guy dies, it wasn't Porthos. If it was Porthos, he isn't dead. Read a book, Mark." "Ha, you said bookmark!" he laughed as he pulled her around a corner and down another hallway, trying to reach the point Alexandra had designated. "Uh!" Becky groused. "Why was I so damn happy that you lived? I swear, Mark, I; Ack!" They both whirled in panic and threw themselves back around the corner as a withering hail of musket fire peppered the plaster of the walls where they'd been standing mere seconds before. They scrambled to their feet and began running back the way they'd come, determined to not die in some baroque version of Bullet Hell from the Matrix. "Fucking shit!" Mark yelped, yanking her around another corner as more soldiers appeared and filled the hall with musket balls. "This sucks!" "Ya' think?" she hissed as they kept running, their options becoming increasingly limited. "I'm in this too, Mister Spotlight!" "Yeah, well at least you don't have the Goblin City Battle music from the Labyrinth soundtrack stuck in your head while they chase us around and try to kill us!" "I do now, you fucker! Thanks a lot!" Becky raged. A lone house guard skidded to a stop near them and prepared to fire. Mark flung his pistol at the man, striking him in the head before knocking him aside as they continued down the corridor. "What did you throw your gun away for, dumbass?" she exclaimed, wondering if blood loss after getting shot had permanently damaged Mark's brain. She hoped he could still get it up, if they made it out of here. "It had no ammo in it." Mark grunted, trying to get his bearings, thinking back to the plans of the palace Alexandra had shown him. "Why were you carrying around an empty pistol?" Becky asked in disbelief. "Intimidation purposes? Were you gonna hold it sideways when you pointed it at people, hope you looked all gangster?" "I plugged a guy on my way to find you, okay?" he sighed as they kept running. "The first shot fired that started this whole mess, it was me shooting some jackoff in the foot as I tried to find you." Becky skidded to a stop, halting Mark's flight as well. She looked into his eyes and then hugged him in relief. "Thank you, Mark," she said quietly. "You came for me, after you nearly died, and we both could today. You're very brave." When she ended the hug, Mark found she had put her own pistol in his hands. He frowned in confusion. "Why'd you give me your pistol?" he asked. "Because let's face it, I'm a lot more likely to snag another one than you are," she sighed. "Let's go, I'm done with the Sun King's France." Out of breath, they settled for trotting down a hallway, surrounded by the echoing sounds of chaos. Things had gotten so confused that the guards were all fighting one another now, thinking the enemy in their midst. Panting, the pair stopped suddenly as they came to a major intersection of hallways. Not far away, a confused brawl consisting of house guard and the Cardinal's guard blocked their passage. Upon their appearance, though, both sides paused in their fight and stared at them. Then a captain raised a call to kill them. Without even thinking, Mark pointed his pistol at the huge iron chandelier over the soldier's heads and fired. The plaster ceiling broke as the iron ball struck at and the chandelier plummeted, crashing into the dozens of men before while clouds of plaster dust filled the hall. "I can't believe that worked!" Mark laughed as they ran down another venue. "Yes, it was very impressive, Gene Kelly," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "Next, you'll be swinging from the damn chandeliers or using your knife to ride down tapestries." Soldiers surged around the corner, charging into the couple. Mark shouted in fury as they tried to skewer him while they attempted to wrestle Becky to the ground. He dodged a blade and slashed his foe across the arm before leaping back to try and give himself room. He looked around in a panic and saw Becky kicking a soldier in the nuts before punching another in the face, her eyes flashing with fury. Someone slammed into him from behind and he tumbled forward, scrambling to gain his feet. More bodies joined the fracas and he realized that they were not only trying to kill him but fighting one another as well. It was difficult to breathe. There were too many bodies smothering him. He gasped in panic and strained to find room for himself. His shaking hand gripped a sword and she shoved it forward indiscriminately, feeling something soft give before him. He focused all his effort on crawling forward, finally emerging from the churning pile of men, locked in combat. He dragged himself along the floor but then grunted in pain as something speared into his thigh from above and behind. He turned to look, his eyes watering in pain, seeing a man in red, glaring at him, raising his rapier for another strike. Then a sword point burst through the man's chest from behind. His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground. The man who had killed him was already moving on to another target. Exhausted and dull with pain, Mark dragged himself to a wall and slumped against it, looking around for Becky, but she was nowhere to be seen. No. Not again. He ignored the maelstrom of violence and pushed himself to his feet, limping down a hallway, sword held loosely in his hand as he went to find his teacher. Alexandra strode down the hall with purpose, her senses keen for trouble. She had caused as much trouble as she could, all the while keeping the fray well away from the queen's quarters. She regretted that men would die today, due to their poor judgement, but she understood that the girl Rebecca could not remain here in Paris. A deep foreboding warned her that almost any price was worth paying to see her safely away. Sparring with D'Artagnan. She stopped as a lone figure came into view, blocking her way down the corridor. He wore the blue of the king's mousquetaires, his young face etched with determination. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier while he observed her. "So," he began, tilting his head. "You must be the cause of all this mayhem, oui?" "I am not who you seek." Alexandra said plainly. "I do not truck with liars and I do not appreciate being lied to!" the young man snapped. "I would have your name before I run you through in the king's. Are you an agent of Buckingham?" "No." "Charles of Spain?" "I have no time for this," Alexandra said testily, putting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "Move aside and let me complete my task, musketeer!" "Then it is death you crave!" he hissed, his rapier flashing in his hand now. "I shall happily give it to you in the queen's honor!" Alexandra drew her blade as her foe rushed forward. She parried his initial thrust and then counter-thrust, which he swatted aside. A flurry of thrusts and ripostes followed, the two warriors measuring one another, vying for advantage in the narrow hallway. Steel rang and flashed. Alexandra's sword point tore a vent in one of her foe's sleeves, and she followed up with a swipe at his eyes, but he dodged away nimbly. He lunged in with the speed of a striking serpent and she caught his blade on hers before it pierced her stomach, turning it aside. They pressed blade-to-blade, moving around one another in a slow, deadly circle, their eyes locked. He danced away again as a main-gauche flashed in her hand, nearly shearing his throat open. He spun around her next attack, and when he was facing her again, a pistol had appeared in his free hand. At point blank range, he pulled the trigger. The thunderous bark of the firearm rattled her teeth as she bent backwards, the bullet passing harmlessly overhead. Alexandra somersaulted backward gracefully, coming to her feet with her rapier guarding against a follow-up attack. A lot of bemusement crossed his face. "Very pretty, good sir," he said. "But it will not save you." He darted in again and another furious exchange of swordplay followed. His blade kissed the top of her thigh, leaving a shining crimson thread on her skin. She paid him in kind with a nick across his cheek, followed by cutting the red plume from his hat. He was nearly as fast as she was, and his recklessness made him dangerously unpredictable, even to one as skilled and experienced as Alexandra. Their blades grated as they strained against one another, teeth clenched and eyes flashing in fury. With a cry of effort, she shoved with all her might and threw him back. He kept his feet and remained on guard, irritated by his foe's grit and skill. "D'Artagnan!" shouted Athos as he and Aramis dragged the unconscious Porthos across the hallway behind the combatants, disappearing from sight. This distracted the Musketeer, who turned to look behind himself in confusion and then disbelief. He glanced back at his foe and then sighed, sheathing his blade. "Until next time, enemy mine;” he said, before darting around the corner to catch up with his comrades. Alexandra waited some seconds after he was gone and then sagged against the wall, sighing heavily. She rubbed her face for a moment before returning her rapier to its sheathe and continuing on. She had to find Mark and Rebecca. The door to the room swung open and Mark staggered inside, panting in pain. His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and it was maddeningly sticky. He had lost his sword while searching for Becky, but it mattered little if he couldn't find her. He tumbled into a sitting position, propping himself up on his hands and trying to breathe. Everything hurt now, and it was getting to the place where he couldn't move. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy. With extreme effort, he managed to tear one of his sleeves off, and tied it around his leg, hoping it would act as a tourniquet and perhaps staunch the bleeding. It stung like fucking Hell and to his distress did nothing ease his pain. He sat there panting, when a solemn figure in red moved slowly by the door. There was a pause and then the person came back into view, peering at Mark quizzically. Clad in red robes and a little red skull cap, his tight, lemony features creased in recognition and then disbelief. "I know you," the Cardinal murmured, his eyes never leaving Mark. "Yes, you are the boy from the field, the one who claimed to be a Spanish noble and had the pretty girl with him." He stepped closer, still scrutinizing Mark, who tried to move backwards, his body screaming in protest. "But you died," the elderly man stated. "My captain shot you. You died in that field. What witchcraft is this?" Annoyance flashed in the Cardinal's eyes now. "So, you are the cause of all this tumult. The girl I was to give to the queen, she is missing and now I know why." He pulled a pistol from within the voluminous folds of his red robes and cocked it before pointing the muzzle down at Mark's face. "I think it is time I dealt with this problem myself, once and for all." Too hurt and exhausted to fight back, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; "I Kick You In The Nuts, Richelieu!" shrilled a voice from the doorway behind the Cardinal, the shout followed by a sickening thump as a musketeer's boot appeared beneath Richelieu's groin. The man stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then his eyes crossed, and he bit his lower lip as his skin turned a sickly shade of green. While Richelieu slumped forward and then fell on his side, trembling and holding the family jewels, Mark goggled up at Becky, who stood indignantly in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring down at His Eminence. "Asshole;” she muttered as she stepped over the Cardinal and came over to Mark, who was shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Her eyes welled with emotion as she knelt next to him. "Oh, Mark," she said in a gentle voice. "Look at you, you got stabbed, baby. I'm so sorry;” "I'll be alright," he managed to say as she hugged him to her. "At least you still look amazing, no matter how badly your ass has been kicked." Becky's laugh choked back her sob and she smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Smart-ass," she murmured. "C'mon, let me bind your boo-boo properly and then we'll get out of here, before everyone in Paris is dead." She fixed his makeshift tourniquet and then helped him stand. Once he was upright, he took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I think I can walk, I was just in need of a breather, ya' know?" She giggled. "How the Hell are we gonna explain a rapier wound through your thigh when you get home?" "With any luck, Chester will have a little something' to fix me right up." Mark replied. "Let's go. If we are where I think we are, then our ride isn't that far away." They walked cautiously down several smaller hallways, avoiding any and all encounters. They chaos seemed to have abated, at least for now. Alexandra had predicted that if fighting broke out, there was be lots of confused violence, followed by the various guard companies withdrawing to their assigned wings of the palace, to directly protect their charges, such as the king, queen and cardinal. "Bet the Cardinal's guards are gonna be upset," Mark chuckled. "He's nowhere near his quarters, and they let him get kicked in the freaking balls." Becky giggled as she walked alongside him, her arm through his. "You have no idea how good that felt, Mark. A girl could get used to that. Maybe we should visit Berlin, see if I can kick Hitler in the nuts." "One grand adventure at a time, teach;” he said wearily, causing her to laugh. But her mirth was brought up short when a solitary figure appeared in front of them, wearing red and clad in a black mask, a rapier and several pistols on their belt. Becky scowled, getting ready to step in front of her student, when Mark seemed to sigh in relief. "I am glad to see you are both well," said the person, walking forward, pulling their golden hair out of its ponytail and removing the mask. Becky's heart leapt as she came face-to-face with Lady Alexandra once more. "Thank the Lord." She stepped in and embraced them both, all three of them trembling at being reunited. Alexandra finally smiled at her friends and nodded. "We must still get you out of here, before the guards return to some sense of normalcy. Mark, do you still have the place name I gave to you?" Mark smiled wearily. "I; it's in the little pocket in my pants here, but it's probably pretty red and unreadable by now." "It's a good thing, then, that I wrote a copy, non?" Alexandra lilted, pulling a small piece of vellum out from beneath the sash she wore and handing it to Becky. "Go to this place," the noblewoman instructed. "By carriage, it should not take more than three days. It is a sanctum I use on occasion and it will be safe. Lisette and I will find you there a day or two after you arrive." She then handed two small, round jars into Becky's palm as well. "Use these to salve your wounds, until I arrive. I promise you, they will work." "How can we thank you?" Becky asked, staring at Alexandra, enchanted. The French woman smiled and then pulled Becky to her, kissing her deeply and passionately. Becky shuddered and moaned, her arms wrapping around Alexandra and returning the kiss passionately. Mark smiled as he watched the blondes make out for almost a minute before Alexandra reluctantly pulled away. "We need to stop, or we will be fucking right here in the halls of the palace," she breathed, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a finger. "We will see one another soon, and celebrate then." She turned to Mark and smiled before leaning in and kissing him gently. "You are a brave man, my friend. Never doubt it, no matter what travails Heaven provides." She walked them through several secret passages now, until they emerged into a small courtyard, under the cover of night. Standing nearby, a non-descript carriage awaited them. Alexandra wrapped Becky in a cloak and then spoke to the driver while the clambered inside. His instructions were clear, and he would not deviate from them. Becky and Mark looked out a small window, smiling and waving at Alexandra, who held up her hand to bid them farewell. The carriage exited the Louvre via a small gate where the guards asked no questions, and then they were on their way through Paris. Mark sank back into the surprisingly plush seat and sighed heavily. "Try not to get kidnapped again, Becks," he said lazily. "I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take." "But being rescued by you is one of my favorite reasons to use tawdry sex as a thank you," she protested, turning to smile at him and tracing a fingernail up and down his chest. "You wouldn't deprive me of that joy, would you, hero?" "Perish the thought, teach;” he chuckled tiredly. A time to recuperate. Mark had Lisette pinned beneath him and rocked back and forth on top of her, his cock plunging in and out of her molten cunt, while she groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have this boy's tool inside her again. Her legs were wrapped around his strong waist and her hips moved in time with his, taking him in as deep as she could. Lisette rarely kissed anyone who wasn't her mistress, but in this case, she was making a willing exception. Their tongues tangled wetly as they fucked, exploring one another. The tingling heat was overtaking her, and she knew it would not be long now. She crossed her ankles behind him and she bit at the skin of his chest, shuddering in delight. Mark arched his back, pushing as deep inside her as he could, before shaking and allowing himself release. Her wanton cunt gripped his cock while he came deep inside her, his whole being awash with unreal pleasure. They moaned through a frenzied kiss and then sagged together, spent and sated, at least for now. Moans, pants and sighs of bliss attracted Mark and Lisette's attention and they looked off their side; also on the huge bed with them, Becky and Alexandra were sitting together, with their arms and legs wrapped around one another, kissing hungrily as they squirmed their slick pussies together. Their matching golden hair was damp with the sweat of their exertions, skin slick and shining. The greedy smacking and sucking sounds their slits made as they mingled made the four lovers shiver in delight. Alexandra and Becky were groping and fondling one another with unreal need, their nails leaving red marks and their fingers gripping tight enough to leave welts. Neither relented, though, desperate to cum together. The moans became groans and they were panting as they gyrated their hips, churning rhythmically in a sensual dance of bliss. They pulled tighter against one another, clenching their teeth and craning their necks as they peaked, then crying out and pressing their molten, gooey pussies as they came. More feverish kissing punctuated the climax and the finally both collapsed backward, chests heaving, their legs still scissored together. Steam seemed to be rising from their bodies, skin flushed pink. The four lovers lay silent for some minutes, just basking in their shared bliss. Mark finally pulled himself out of Lisette and then knelt over her face, allowing the dark-haired girl to slide his cock into her mouth, cleaning their mingled cum from his cock, which she did with great delight. Becky and Alexandra finally clasped wrists and pulled themselves up into a sitting position, hugging tiredly, but not willing to relinquish their most intimate contact. They kissed deeply and contentedly, fondling one another's tits. Lisette looked over at them and giggled. Alexandra looked over at her servant, her eyebrow raised. "What is so funny, girl?" Lisette turned on her side and rested her head on her hand while Mark spooned in behind her. "I was just thinking, Mistress; you and Miss Rebecca look so much alike. What if you are her ancestor?" Becky and Alexandra both thought about that, looked at one another for a moment, shrugged and began kissing again, their tongues tangling loudly. "And if that was the case, think about what we discussed the other day," she continued, smirking mischievously. "You said you had wondered what it would be like to Monsieur Mark's child, yes? Wouldn't that also make him Miss Rebecca's ancestor?" Mark burst out laughing while Becky choked on her shock, interrupting the kiss she had been so enjoying. She looked at Lisette in disbelief. Alexandra just sighed and shook her head, used to her servant's twisted humor. The moment of metaphysical terror passed for Becky and they all cuddled together in the center of the bed, kissing tenderly and caressing. Alexandra had told Becky all about Mark's efforts to find her and reach her, what he had undergone and risked. Becky's eyes shone as she looked at Mark at promised to make sure he was properly thanked until the end of time. "I wish you could stay," Alexandra almost moped, regretting that she had to give her new friends up. "I enjoy your company, and I am not ashamed to say I love you both." "Feeling's mutual, Alexa," Becky lilted, tracing a fingernail across her generous tit. "But maybe we needn't end our association. If we designate a consistent place, when you know you are available, you can leave a message there. Mark and I will check for messages, and when we see one, we can visit you at the appointed time. No conflicts or dangers presented, as long as we're all certain of the clear lines of communication." "I like that idea," Alexandra said, grinning. "And I have a gift for you both." She climbed off the bed and went to retrieve something. She returned shortly with two bottles, which she presented to them. "A new type of wine, invented in my native region of Champagne," she said, kneeling on the bed as they examined the bottles. "Twice fermented and sweet on the tongue, not unlike my darling Rebecca." Becky blushed and Mark grinned. "You'll be glad to know that in our time, champagne is one of the most expensive and sought-after drinks in the world, used in every important celebration." "That does please me, Mark." Alexandra said, nodding her head and deciding to not chide him this time about telling her the future. "And now that I think of it, literally, I've got a present for you, Alexa." Mark mused, getting off the bed. The three women watched as he walked into a large closet, rummaging around loudly. When he returned, he was holding what appeared to be several unusual books, which he handed to Alexandra. "What are these?" she asked, puzzled. "Well, the graphic novel is a pictorial history of Wonder Woman, who you may recall I told you a little bit about," he explained, sitting on the bed again. "And the other three books are all written by a man named Alexander Dumas and are fictional works about the Three Musketeers. I figured they'd be humorous reading for you." She looked up at him incredulously. "But; why were they in my closet here in my chalet?" He grinned again. "Well, just a moment ago, I decided to give them to you. So in a few days, I'm gonna gather them up, bring them here to just before Becky and I arrive, and bury 'em in your closet, where I know they are. That way, I don't run into any of us. And clearly it worked." Becky made a wry face. "Ya' know, I'd say you're getting the hang of this whole temporal travel thing, but I'm pretty sure you're only getting the hang of abusing it." Mark smirked at her and pinched her nipple, making her shiver and bite her lip. He then looked back at Alexandra. "And when you're done with 'em, you can just leave 'em in our drop-off spot and Becks and I'll pick them up. That way, there's no anachronistic copies of nineteenth-century novels or twentieth-century comic books lying around to be discovered by archaeologists." "I take back what I said just now, you're gonna get us all clock-hammered right out of existence." Becky sighed, causing her lovers to laugh. Mark and Becky lay side-by-side in her bed and holdings hands, back in their own time and generally none the worse for wear. They'd learned some valuable lessons and had made some important contacts along the way. "Do' you really think Alexandra's my ancestor?" Becky mused, looking at her bedroom ceiling. Mark shrugged. "You sure look a lot alike, and you're both Hell on wheels. I'm still amused by the notion of me being your great-great-great-whatever grandfather." She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle the notion of fucking and falling in love with my great-whatever grandmother, but the notion of you as my whatever grandfather gives me the jibblies. Just promise me you won't impregnate Alexa and make that come true, Mark." He chuckled. "I promise. I have no idea how trans-temporal alimony or visitation rights even work." Becky giggled and turned in to face him, cuddling close. "So, who're you gonna save me from next, hero?" she purred, nipping at his earlobe and making him shiver. "Oh, God, Becks, can we start out with some really ferocious kindergartners from the Roaring Twenties taking you hostage? I can probably handle that right about now." She giggled again and crawled on top of him, staring down into his eyes and kissing his nose while she squirmed her tits against him. "Take me to New York in the Twenties and I'll show you how liberated a flapper girl I can be," she whispered. "Deal?" "Deal." Mark replied, pulling her down and kissing her soulfully. Count Mark and Becky in! I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This! Finally home. Mark sat at his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed potatoes for dinner, one of his favorites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all. "I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavor is so; special." Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places." "Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is flavor." "Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change." "Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right." "Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you." "As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?" "Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Ya' know, open my mind more and my legs less?" "Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!" "Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to have been The Mark Show around here recently,

Text HOG-POD with your thoughts on this episode. This episode, part 2,  we are joined by Steve Link, the Director of the Welsh Dragon H.O.G® Chapter based in Cardiff, to hear about the upcoming Tri-Chapter Winter Ball.  This event is open to all and is organised a year in turn, by Welsh Dragon, Bridgwater and Rolling Hills Chapter. We are also joined by Mark McManus, a member of the Belfast Chapter who shares his love for Ruby, a gorgeous Sportster 48 but sadly let go to make room for a Road King Special and a Sportster 883. This involved Kenny riding pillion on a the Sportster 48 from Belfast to Chester, through the night in the freezing cold and eventually biblical rain.Resources and LinksSycamore Uppingham HD - https://www.sycamoremotorcycles.co.uk/harley-davidsonManchester Chapter - https://mancuniumchapter.co.uk/Chester Chapter - https://www.devalegionhog.co.uk/Tri Chapter Winter Ball Welsh Dragon, Bridgwater and Rolling Hills - https://www.welshdragonhog.com/  or winterball@welshdragonhog.com 

That baby formula recall — the one linked to reports of infant botulism — has been expanded. Chester is actively trying to keep Philly from taking its trash there. Wendy's announced its plans to close a number of stores. Also, this Costco wants to be the first in Pennsylvania to sell booze. 

The Time Riders: Part 4 A daring attempt to rescue Becky from Cardinal Richelieu. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. “Your Becky sounds like a very strong woman." Lady Alexandra reflected when Mark told of their conflicts in the time journey to old France. "Actually," Mark said, blushing again. "She reminds me of you, or you remind me of her. You actually look quite a bit alike." She smiled sweetly and reached forward to touch his knee. "High praise for me indeed, then. Am I right in assuming that she speaks French since you do not?" Mark nodded. "Then she should be safe inside the Louvre, which is where my mistress the queen is currently staying," Alexandra concluded. "So his Eminence is playing another little game, to make my mistress feel bad by bringing beautiful women into her service? We shall see to this, Mark, I promise you." "Thanks," he said. "I really, really appreciate this. You have no idea." "She must be very special to you." Alexandra said slyly. "Well, we're not in love, or anything," he said hastily, wishing he didn't have to keep explaining this. "But yeah, I guess you could say we're fond of one another, and she's the only person I time travel with." "Were I you," Alexandra said, sitting back now and taking another sip of one while crossing one leg over the other. "I would try to keep it that way. It has been explained to me, and it seems perfectly logical, that things just get more complicated when you involve other people or try to do too many things?" "You don't look at all like you're from this time," Mark admitted. "Are you actually from the Sun King's France?" She nodded. "That I am, to a noble family of ancient lineage, going even back to the reign of Charlemagne. But in service to my queen, I take very good care of myself and am in the peak of health." "No kidding," Mark breathed, earning a smirk from Alexandra. "Chester said you're good with a sword?" She shrugged in a non-committal manner. "Suffice to say that I am not afraid to take on Les Troi Inseparables." Mark assumed that she meant Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "D'Artagnan too?" She laughed, a beautiful, crystalline sound. "Aye, even the irascible Gascon. Nor do I cringe before the Duke of Buckingham, who is said to be the greatest swordsman in Christendom, barring possibly my brother." "No recognition for you?" She shook her head. "I dare not, my service to the queen would be compromised. I am not driven by fame, Mark, but devotion and duty. Secrecy is all that allows me to continue in my task." "You're like Wonder Woman." Mark laughed. She looked at him and tilted her head. "Comment?" "A fictional heroine from my own time," he said, waving it off. "She's powerful, she's brilliant, she can fight, she can fly, she's compassionate. They've been writing and drawing stories about her for about seventy years now." "It sounds fun," she sighed. "But I do not wish to be ensnared in these time troubles, and I do everything I can to avoid them. The less I know, the better. Protecting my queen is enough." He nodded. "I promise to try and not add to your troubles in this, and I'm sorry." "You needn't be," she said easily, draining her glass. "The debt I owe Chester for this is many years old, I am surprised that he has not called it in before now, to be honest. How long has Becky been at the Louvre?" Mark thought about that. "Uh; a week to get to the palace from where we were; then three weeks; and then it took me a week to get here, so best guess is four weeks." Alexandra nodded and considered. "The initial intense scrutiny she would have been under will be relaxing after a month. They are no doubt still training her, but she sounds very bright, so they will be eager to move her into the court." Mark nodded. "Alright, what do we do? Run in with pistols blazing and swords unsheathed?" She paused in her ruminations and looked at him for a moment before shaking her head slowly, saying nothing. She poured herself another glass of wine and nocked it back before sighing and returning to her thoughts. "Uh, may I ask a question?" Mark said somewhat meekly. Alexandra looked at him and waited. "If; you're one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting," Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Shouldn't you have at least seen or have heard of Becky by now? I gotta admit, she's like you, she's really hard to miss." The French woman smiled prettily. "I have been away some two months now on a delicate errand for my queen, one that took me south to Spain." "Pretending I was from Spain got me shot." Mark grumbled. Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "Ah, tu hablas español?" "Nope," Mark said, holding up his hands. "Not goin' through this again. So, what do we do, Miss; uh, Miss;” "Just call me Alexandra, cher," she said easily. "And if we become friends, you may call me Alexa." He nodded. "Okay, Alexandra. What is our plan?" "I shall think on that," she replied. "We will not be doing anything until at least tomorrow, I assure you. I only returned this morning and even the queen does not know I am back yet. That being said, you will be my guest here in my private apartments." "Uh, okay," he said. "That doesn't sound too bad, I guess." "It is convenient, for one thing, but another is perhaps a bit more personal and selfish on my part," Alexandra added. "Be honest with me, Mark." "Okay." "Would your Becky be hurt or jealous if you and I were to fuck?" she asked plainly. Mark thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. "She'd probably think there was something wrong with me if I didn't; to be honest. Besides, if she thinks I'm dead, what's the harm?" "Bien," the woman stated, nodding and standing. "Tonight, you and I shall, oh, what is that English saying; ride below the crupper." "Never heard that, but I'm in," he said, chuckling. "And do not worry, unlike most people of this day and age, I bathe daily, so you should not find my closeness offensive." Alexandra added. "I'm pretty sure you could smell like a federal stimulus pork bill and I wouldn't notice," he laughed. "Don't you have quarters at the Louvre?" She nodded. "Oui, but my mistress allows me to stay here when possible, since I am closer to the people of Paris this way. I can look out my window, see them and remind myself of my duty to them." "You're pretty complicated for a noblewoman." Mark admitted. "History doesn't think much of your class of people." "A deserved indictment, no doubt," she sighed. "Alors, I did not keep you here to bore you with such ephemera, I intend to pleasure you before making you risk your life again in the days ahead." The French Art of Feminine Disrobing. He watched from his chair as she slowly turned around and began the French art of feminine disrobing. She began by removing the rather poufy blouse she was wearing, revealing her shapely back. She was beautiful, but now he could see the lines of athleticism in her shoulders and torso, and still somehow with the affectation of being delicate and womanly. Alexandra then lifted one leg and removed her short boot deftly, then reversed her pose as she removed the other boot. Her feet were surprisingly dainty, but they seemed to be planted firmly on the floor. Undoing the tie of her breeches, she wiggled them down over her lovely hips, exposing her incredible behind. She bent over to push the article of clothing down the rest of her statuesque legs and in spite of the dim light, he could almost see her cunt just below those temping cheeks. She stood up straight and stepped elegantly out of the pool of her breeches, putting her hands over her bust as she turned her head to smile at him coyly. As he watched, she slowly came around so she was facing him now. If Mark's jaw could have literally fallen off, it would have. In the flickering candlelight, she was bewitching to behold. Her skin was creamy and flawless, fair and yearning to be kissed. Her womanly hips carried strength, melting into her glorious legs. Her snatch was hairless, something he didn't associate at all with the period; especially the French. "So, do you like what you see?" she purred, enjoying his reaction. He nodded dumbly and she allowed her hands to fall away from her tits, revealing them. Large and perfectly shaped, sitting high no doubt because of her strong back and shoulders, and crowned with small, pink nipples that made his mouth water. "Now perhaps it is time for you to show me the man I will enjoy?" Alexandra said softly, smiling. "Stand up and let me see you, Mark." He couldn't do a thing about his hard-on, so he didn't even bother trying to conceal it. Still sitting, he removed his boots and socks before standing. Without any of the grace displayed by his anticipated new lover, Mark fumbled off his shirt, revealing his chest. He wasn't overly muscular, of course, but he had more than enough tone and definition because of the sports he'd played. She smiled and just watched quietly. He undid the tie of his breeches and bent over to pull them off. When he stood back up, his cock sprang to full attention, wobbling in front of him slightly. Alexandra nodded, apparently in approval. "Men of days to come seem to be gifted." Alexandra stated in a sultry voice as she stepped forward, moving toward him. “Or, perhaps today, for you; my dear Alexandra?” Mark flirted in a manner even he found uncharacteristically competent. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest as the blonde goddess stepped closer and closer to him. She was then standing directly in front of him, her glorious pelvic mound almost touching the tip of his pulsing erection. He thought he might cum right on the spot. Her elegant hand slowly reached out to take hold of his turgid shaft, the fingers wrapping around gently and giving him the lightest of squeezes. "And now," she said in a whisper. "We shall' The lock on the door clunked before it flew open and in stepped a young woman with wavy dark hair and eyes, apparently not noticing the activity within. "I am back, mistress," the girl chirped as she shut the door and locked it again. She seemed cheerful and energetic, her green dress twirling about her prettily. "I bought some wine and also the soap packets that you; oh! My apologies, mistress, I did not know you were busy!" "Do not worry, Lisette," Alexandra said easily, clearly not at all surprised to see the girl while Mark just gaped. Her hand was still on his cock and stroking gently as she acknowledged the newcomer. "You're just in time to share dessert with me;” Cirrhosis Of The Louvre Mark blinked as he stared at the young woman who had just sauntered in. About his age, she was rather short, but cute in a quirky kind of way, with wavy dark hair that reached her jawline and cheerful brown eyes, over which she wore small round spectacles. Her green dress looked like elegant and well-maintained peasant wear. She seemed rather surprised to see him as well. "A new playmate, mistress?" she asked in French, clearly not surprised to see Lady Alexandra naked on her knees and stroking Mark's cock. "For now," Alexandra said easily, smiling at her servant. "He actually is an associate of Monsieur Edgeworth and needs our help." "Oh, not that pain-in-the-ass again," muttered the girl named Lisette as she walked into the dimly-lit room, clearly put off by the mention of Chester Edgeworth. Her accent was distinctly different from Lady Alexandra's, more coarse and unsophisticated, even to Mark's untrained ears. His translator device was having trouble keeping up. "Like our lives are not difficult enough." "Perhaps, but we have time for some fun, I am happy to say." Alexandra pointed out, not at all bothered by her servant's mutterings. "You will be delighted to know that in helping this young man, we will be putting the spurs to the Red Duke." "Well, there's that at least," Lisette admitted, dropping the linen bags she had been carrying and coming toward them, beginning to shed her dress and underthings without batting an eye. "This one is tall, Mistress. And he has a blank expression about him. English? A colonial?" "Close enough, my love," Alexandra giggled, watching as her beloved servant removed the last vestiges of her modesty, standing naked before them now, except for her spectacles. Her tits were small, her figure trim, but rounded in a youthful way; and devoid of fat excess fat, but not skinny. Living and fighting alongside her Mistress meant Lisette had no time for being indolent. She was probably also the best marksman outside of the Sun King's army with a caliver. "He is indeed from the colonies." "And probably from some other time, if he's involved with Edgeworth, but I have learned not to care," the brunette sighed as she joined Alexandra in kneeling in front of Mark. "Very well, let's fuck this one, before he gets killed, or unavailable like the others." "Wait, what?" Mark asked, his eyes widening and his erection threatening to retreat into his abdomen and his translator bud did its job. "Ignore her," Alexandra said easily, smirking at her companion. "She is just being salty about a boy she liked to fuck down at the market, no longer being available." "He die of dysentery or something?" Mark asked. Alexandra shrugged. "No, he got married." "I'm still going to fuck him the next time I see him;” Lisette said sullenly. "Oh, sorry," Mark said, somewhat embarrassed. "I guess I'm in the habit of assuming that you're the only person in this time I'm ever gonna meet who isn't riddled with a pox or sexual disease." "A fair assumption, my friend;” the blonde woman cooed as she began kissing along the length of his veiny, rippled shaft and making him shiver. The fireplace kept the room warm and also gave it an amber glow that was so comforting and conducive to their current activities. Lisette nestled in closer, smiling and fondling his sac gently while watching her mistress pleasure their new plaything. "He is large, Mistress," she mused, smiling slyly. "Nearly the size of Buckingham, I think." "Umm, the men of days to come do indeed seem to be gifted," Alexandra murmured as she tilted his hard cock up and traced the tip of her tongue along the vein on the underside. "Mark here is no exception, it would seem." Lisette's surprisingly well-kept fingernails grazed along his thighs while she edged inward, wanting to be closer to her mistress. Alexandra now swirled her tongue around his throbbing head before putting it inside her warm, wet mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him before slowly sliding in his length in one slow, steady motion. Mark shuddered in pleasure, feeling her tongue swirling around his length, even as she kept her mouth on him. His fingers found their way into her lush, golden hair, kneading at her scalp, and steadying himself while she began to bob back and forth expertly. In the back of his mind, he realized that she was as good as any girl from his own time at sucking cock. He shouldn't have been surprised, but sex seemed to be the one human endeavor that didn't really progress as time moved forward. People were either good at it, or weren't, and the best techniques had probably been around for thousands of years, needing no refinement. Alexandra was living proof of that theory. Lisette moved in and began kissing her mistress' neck and collarbone, her hands now wondering and caressing the noblewoman's body with a practiced ease. Alexandra continued to suck on Mark's cock readily, not at all distracted by her servant's touch, but rather excited by it. She squirmed as her cunt grew moist, yearning to feel this man's tool inside her. Alexandra's strong lips held his glans and her tongue rolled around his purple tip. Lisette's mouth now joined Alexandra's in sliding up and down the sided of his length before they kissed around his cock tip, tongues flickering and sliding wetly as they moaned. His hands were on the back of their heads and he shivered again, lost in the unreal sensations. He felt the brunette girl take over sucking on him, while her blonde mistress nipped at the skin of his waist. "Umm, he has a big tool, mistress," purred Lisette before bobbing along his shaft again. "A pity he will not be available to us regularly." "I think my friend is pleased with you, Mark," Alexandra said, smiling up at him slyly. "Do you wish to fuck us both?" "That; sounds great;” he grunted, closing his eyes and concentrating on not cumming so damn quickly. These two were a wicked tag team. "But what if one of you;” "Fear not, cher, we will not," Alexandra assured him. "I am classically trained, including in Roman medicines and can prevent unexpected complications from arising. Or our bellies." Mark didn't know exactly what 'Roman medicines' had to do with contraception, but she was the expert in this time, so he'd take her word for it. From what he'd read, the alternative in this era was a condom made of linen, which wasn't even meant to prevent pregnancy so much as inhibit pleasure. Hell with that. "Are you any good with that tongue, man of the New World?" she asked now, smiling at him wickedly. "Becky seemed to think so." Mark replied, trembling as he fought to hold on. He would welcome a chance to lick cunt if it would keep him from embarrassing himself before he had properly fucked either of them. "Then Lisette will continue to see you your needs down below, while I become acquainted with your face." Alexandra breathed. Mark sighed as Lisette stopped sucking on his cock long enough to retrieve several large, plush pillows and lay them on the floor near the fireplace. He was almost in a daze as the blonde noblewoman led him to the scarlet and gold oreillers, plump with down and feathers, and then rested him on top of them. Without more ado, she nestled over his face, looking down his body, allowing him to examine her while Lisette knelt between his legs and resumed wrapping her lips around his cock loudly. He marveled at her shining, slippery cunt, so tempting in the flickering orange light of the hearth. He had now fucked a few French girls in this time period, along with Becky, and they were all completely natural, often unusually hairy between their legs. This glorious woman, however, kept her twat completely smooth, a total aberration from the norm. Lisette was almost shaven clean, which he could only assume was at her mistress' behest. He could see Alexandra's tiny, pink clit just peeking out from under its hood, begging for attention. The wet, exquisite heat of Lisette's mouth made his belly groan. He pulled the blonde down onto his waiting mouth, needing to distract himself. His tongue snaked between her wet nether lips and inside her. Alexandra sighed shamelessly and squirmed on his mouth while fondling her opulent tits. His fingers gripped her thighs tightly, flexing into her delicate flesh. She was not kidding about taking care of herself compared to her contemporaries. Her scent and her taste reminded him of Becky more than anything. He pushed his tongue deeper inside her, massaging her walls and core and making her gasp and shudder in delight. She pulled at her nipples as she rocked back on forth on Mark's mouth, enthralled by how skilled he was proving to be at pleasuring her orally. He was quite possibly as good as Lisette, which was no small feat in her opinion. Her calves pressed in around his ears, her pert derriere bumping against his face. Mark's tongue flickered inside her and he buzzed his lips on her, sending jolts through her whole body. "Mistress, he is ready for you," Lisette said, pulling her mouth off his cock and looking up at her lady while pumping her tiny hand along his shaft. "Would you like to fuck him now?" "Non, ma couer," breathed Alexandra, her body now showing a sheen of sweat. "You may fuck him first. I assure you he will bring you bliss. I am fine where I am for now." Lisette nodded and moved to straddle Mark's hips, facing her mistress. She took hold of his cock, biting her lip as she toyed it against her cuntlips and clit. Finally, she pushed down, taking the head inside herself. She sighed while Mark shuddered as he penetrated hervery tight cunt. She then groaned loudly as she sank down, taking him all the way inside herself. She was very tight and Mark made an incoherent sound into Alexandra's twat, making her gasp and shudder violently, cumming suddenly. She leaned forward and grappled onto Lisette, kissing her greedily as she came. Mark could feel her wetness soaking his face, the heady aroma enthralling him. Enveloped in a type of pleasure he had probably never experienced before, even with Becky, he simply fought to control himself, lashing Alexandra's inside with his tongue while Lisette squirmed up and down on his cock, fucking him. Her cunt flexed and clenched expertly around him. He made a guess about the blonde noblewoman above him and took hold of her ass cheeks, pulling them apart before sliding a thumb through her puckered knot. Alexandra wailed in unexpected delight at the intrusion inside her back passage, pressing down and back against his hands and face. She rocked wantonly, genuinely thankful for the meddlesome Chester Edgeworth on this occasion. Mark showed no signs of relenting in his carnal assault. Whatever courtesies men of days to come were taught about a woman's pleasure, she envied the recipients. "Uh, mistress," whimpered Lisette as she squirmed, leaning backward while pumping her cunt on his cock. Alexandra could see the burgeoning shaft splitting her servant-girl's puffy cuntlips wide, glistening now with her wet desire as she squeezed around him. "Mistress, he's going to make me cum!" "Then cum, my dearest," Alexandra cooed, eager to see her beloved Lisette in the throes of unbridled passion. "And then I shall fuck him and we can cum; all of us, non?" The mere mention of cumming with her mistress made Lisette moan loudly, gyrating on Mark's cock with wild abandon. She was fairly bouncing as the liquid heat washed through her, followed by the unreal tingles of la petit mort. She leaned forward and kissed her mistress passionately, her cunt clamping around Mark like a silken vise as she came. "And now you, mistress!" she panted as she regained control of her body, sliding off Mark's throbbing tool to make room for the blonde woman. Somewhat reluctantly, Alexandra pulled her gooey cunt away from Mark's mouth, shivering as his finger popped out of her ass. She leaned down his body sensually, leaning over to take his cock in her mouth, moaning in pleasure as she tasted Lisette's cum on his rigid staff. Her head rose back up and her mouth left his coc,k and she smiled back at him while she stroked his length. "Perhaps you could take me from behind, my friend? It has been some time since I have felt it done properly." Mark nodded and clambered up to his feet, moving around while Alexandra arranged Lisette, lying the brown-haired girl on her back. She then sank down onto her, their arms wrapping around one another and they kissed deeply and passionately, the mere sight of it driving Mark wild. They were so total in their devotion that he wondered if they were in love. Lisette then moved around deftly, so that her mouth was beneath her mistress' dripping cunt, while the blonde woman hovered over her servant, on her hands and knees. Mark stood behind Alexandra and settled onto his knees. Lisette confidently reached up and took hold of Mark's pulsing cock, guiding him closer, until he was holding Alexandra by the hips. She placed the knob of his cock against her mistress' cunt lips, teasing it up and down for a few moments. Alexandra's response was to sigh and kiss her servant's cunt lovingly, making her shiver. Mark pursed his lips as Lisette finally guided him inside the aristocrat's snatch, with a slow, steady push. Already wet and ready, Alexandra's cunt yielded before him easily, but he soon groaned as he realized that further in she was as tight, if not tighter, than her servant, who was considerably smaller in frame. Alexandra moaned into Lisette's cunt while Mark trembled at the exquisite, wet heat. Once he had sunk in right up to the hilt, he paused for several moments, adjusting to the wicked sensation. He already understood he was no match for this woman's sexual prowess, and he was thankful for her indulgence. Once he was inside her, Lisette released him and wrapped her hands around her mistress' thighs, holding them firmly while she began kissing devotedly at her cuntlips, clit. Mark's visible shaft and balls bounced upon her forhead. Clearly she intended to facilitate their mutual climax and make sure they both experienced as much pleasure as they could handle. Knowing not to wait any longer and to simply take cues from Lisette, Mark made sure he had a firm grip and began pushing back and forth inside Alexandra, using long, slow, and deliberate thrusts to begin. The blonde moaned in appreciation of his efforts. "Hmm, you are very skilled with your phallus, my friend," she sighed, smiling back at him before returning to kissing Lisette's cunt and sliding a slender finger inside her. "You do not just fuck, like so many men of this day, but you know how to make love. Your Becky is a lucky girl." "Thanks;” he managed to say, praying for endurance as he felt her rhythmically squeeze herself around him with every thrust, even while she pleasured her servant girl. This woman was a succubus. Hadn't she said she was an agent of Anne of Austria? She'd be formidable indeed. And if she was one tenth as good with a sword or pistol as she was at fucking. Alexandra giggled at his inability to speak in full sentences, resolving to go easy on him and simply enjoy herself. A small allowance, perhaps, since she was obligated to help him. She pushed back slightly until her ass cheeks met his hips and her wet cuntlips pressed against his skin, enveloping his cock entirely. Beneath her, Lisette kissed and slid her tongue all over them, lost in a dutiful reverie. She realized Mark could take guidance and instruction without words, if she made her intentions known. She made him fuck her a little faster now by not only moving back and forth, but by squeezing him inside her more quickly, a technique she had taken years to perfect, but always to advantage. Soon, he was sliding in and out of her rhythmically, almost pulling his cockhead out of her before pushing all the way back in. Given his ample length, this was a wicked delight for her; fucking his cock was even better than sitting on his long eager tongue! Lisette was not only pleasuring them, but helping to regulate their coupling, something she could now do instinctively. Her devotion to her mistress was total. If Alexandra was fucking a man, Lisette was not jealous (usually), but simply played her part in making sure everyone enjoyed the experience as much as possible. They were practiced lovers who knew one another's needs and desires completely, and Lisette now fulfilled her role in the tryst with sublime skill. Mark shuddered as he felt Lisette's fingers massaging beneath him, along his balls and even his taint. To his surprise, it served to help distract him from the unreal pleasure if being deep inside Alexandra, allowing him to last longer than he had any business hoping to. He began pushing in and out a little harder, asserting himself and making the blonde goddess moan in pleasure. Soon, Mark was slapping his hips against her ass cheeks loudly, increasing the tempo to the place where Lisette couldn't readily use her dainty fingers on him. She instead continued lapping at her mistress' clit and massaging the split lips as he fucked her. Lisette trembled as Alexandra pushed two fingers deep inside her now, finding her pleasure points with unfailing skill while she sucked on her servant's clit, moaning around it. Alexandra squirmed back against Mark lustily and onto Lisette's mouth, panting in delight. "Oui!" she gasped, gyrating her pelvis expertly, the rings of her cunt muscles rippling along Mark's throbbing cock. "Right there! So good!" Mark was finding his body trembling, the familiar tingle starting to well up within him. His thrusts were faster but less controlled now, his hips performing an almost shoving and scooping motion as he dug inside the French noblewoman. Lisette was massaging her Mistress' cunt eagerly, delighting in the mingling taste of desire on her two lovers. She watched as Mark's glistening shaft slid back and forth, pulling wetly at Alexandra's nether lips. "Gonna cum!" he grunted, stiffening, trying to hold on while making sure that was what she wanted. "Yes!" Alexandra purred, her body flushing with warmth at his words. She heard him groan and press as hard as he could against her. She obliged by pushed back against him and squeezing for all she was worth. She sighed loudly, sliding her fingers as deeply into Lisette as she could, shivering in pleasure as her orgasm blossomed through her. Her wanton cunt fluttered around Mark's cock as she felt it pulsing and spurting his pearly cum deep inside her. They heaved and ground against one another for nearly a minute until Mark sagged back on his haunches, while Alexandra slowly laid forward, his cock sliding out of her with a wet pop. She rested her tits now on top of Lisette, who busied herself by tilting her head up between her mistress' legs, kissing her cunt and then lapping at it hungrily, her tongue finding the creamy globules of Mark's cum inside her, thrilling to the tangy taste. Alexandra sighed in contentment, her eyes closed, squirming gently. Not long had passed before the dutiful girl had cleaned her mistress thoroughly, ending her task with loving kisses of devotion. Alexandra rolled gently off to the side while Lisette got on her hands and knees, moving over to between Mark's legs, He was serenely staring at the rafters and trying to catch his breath. Without waiting for any particular permission (not that any was forthcoming or needed), she took hold of his still-swollen but softening cock and laved it with her mouth, once again thrilling to the taste of his cum mixed with her mistress'. She cleaned him off readily, loving how responsive he was to her touch. Finally, Alexandra rose to her feet and came to stand beside them. She pulled Lisette to her feet and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl, kissing her deeply and lovingly. Lisette melted into her embrace, submitting completely and with reverence. The kiss finally ended, and the patrician smiled down at Mark before offering her hand to help him up. "I found Lisette in Provence maybe three years ago, trapped in a tiny chapel and being disgraced by a priest. I ran him through with my blade and took her under my wing." "Mistress has had my undying devotion and unconditional love since then." Lisette added in very thick English, the first sounds of it she had offered. The phrase sounded almost practiced or rehearsed to Mark's ears, then he realized it probably was. Alexandra had taught Lisette what to say about herself once she had initiated a beginning statement she'd recognize. It was how they protected her in English, because it demonstrated the depth to which they were devoted to one another; Alexandra would kill a man of God for Lisette, and there was nothing in creation she would not do for her mistress. "I believe it," Mark replied, nodding. "I'm glad she saved you, Lisette, and Alexandra's lucky to have you." Lisette was taken off-guard by what Mark had said once her blonde mistress had translated for her, and she blushed and looked at the floor. It occurred to Mark that she probably wasn't used to anyone aside from Alexandra expressing any concern about her life or safety. She was just another peasant, after all. "Let us clean ourselves lightly and then prepare for a light meal and then bed, shall we?" Lady D'assaut suggested. "Mark, I do not know if you are a man of faith or not, but Lisette and I usually have about an hour of devotional time just before we turn in. You may join us or do as you please, as long as you're respectfully quiet." Mark nodded and joined the pair in going to another room that was clearly dedicated to bathing, something he doubted was all that common in this time and place. Lady Alexandra really was out of the ordinary. He watched with interest as Lisette helped her mistress into the large, round wooden tub, under which a contained fire was glowing. Easily big enough for the three of them (no doubt by design, he thought), he allowed himself to be helped in before the two women began washing him, giggling as they used tiny packets of powdered soap and their bodies to make sure he was clean all over. "Normally, to come across water like this is rare and expensive," Alexandra explained as she knelt patiently and looked at him while Lisette squeezed her tits into her mistress magnificent orbs, lathering her. "But this particular building has an underground stream running below it, so retrieving water from a well in the courtyard is comparatively simple. And I do love to be clean." "I can get behind that." Mark agreed. "Maybe in the morning." Alexandra quipped readily, winking at him. They finished bathing and then Lisette dutifully dried them both off. Linen shifts were provided and then Mark sat with his host in the study while Lisette prepared a light meal for them all. He'd never eaten a pigeon before, but it was surprisingly good. Small nibs of sweetened chocolate comprised dessert, and of course there was the wine. Once they had finished, Alexandra and her companion excused themselves and went into another small room to say their devotionals for maybe an hour. Then they invited Mark to come and sleep with them in Alexandra's massive, plush bed, covered in crimson sheets threaded with gold. Everyone removed their linen shifts and clambered into bed. Alexandra and Lisette kissed one another and then Mark goodnight. In spite of having two naked women nestled into his sides, he slept surprisingly well. A Louvre Incarceration. The moon was a bright white orb overhead as Rebecca looked out the window from her stately bedroom. A tear glistened on her cheek, as it had every night since her abduction and arrival in Paris. Not only was she stuck here, in the Sun King's France, with no method of returning home, but she was the unwilling 'guest' of Cardinal Richelieu, who was seeing her trained to serve Queen Anne. Worse still, and what truly broke her heart, Mark was dead. Killed by the Cardinal's men and no doubt still lying in that fateful field, his body ravaged by scavengers. She bit her lip as tears started to roll down her face, willing herself not to break into sobs that everyone on this floor of the palace would hear. She buried her face in her hands and surrendered to the grief, shuddering as she wept, not caring about the moon framing her in rays of silvery light. She was so alone. Mark had to exercise patience that morning, since they were eating a leisurely breakfast and casually discussing matters. But the matters were nothing of import, at least not from his point of view; they were not improvising plans to save Becky, which was foremost on his mind. Alexandra was well aware of the agitation just under his calm surface and she finally sought to allay it. She smiled and put a hand on top of his as she sat next to him at the table. "My friend," she said gently in her impeccable English. "Worry not for your Rebecca." "How can you say that?" he asked, trying to keep any exasperation out of his voice. "It's all that really matters to me, not that I'm not grateful, of course. But I feel; I feel like we are dawdling." "I understand," she allowed, smiling her beautiful smile that would drive the clouds away. "But I assure you, she is in no immediate danger, now that she is in the Louvre. And as you have already noted, she has been there for a month. We cannot simply rush in and storm the palace, because we would be risking her life, along with many others, not the least of which is my queen, Anne." He sighed and nodded. "But you are helping me rescue her, right? As in, we free her from the palace and she and I can get away, find my time machine and go home?" She smirked and nodded. Maybe she didn't blame him for his suspicions. "Yes, Mark. That is the only end here. I cannot remain indebted to our mutual associate Chester Edgeworth, especially not since this is one of his temporal matters. I want nothing to do with them, so leaving; oh, what is the term; 'loose ends', if you will, does not suit me. It pains me to say so, since I like you, but with any luck, I will never see you again once we have rescued your Rebecca." She smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Please trust me. And exercise patience. I already have a plan in mind, I just need more information from the palace." "Oh, okay," he said finally, hoping he wasn't being unreasonable. "Just out of sorts, I guess. Not a lot of experience with the Baroque Period." She tilted her head slightly and smirked. "Baroque Period? Is that what people in your time refer to this era as?" Mark shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno why." "In my language, baroque refers to an oddly-shaped pearl," she mused. "You might have a better understanding of my time and history than I do, in retrospect." "I doubt it," he chuckled, put at ease once again by her gracious manner. "I never really had much of a head for history. Might actually be pretty skewed, since everything I know comes from movies and novels written by people from your future." "I don't know what a 'movie' is, but I think it's best I not either," she mentioned, stroking his wrist. "Once Lisette has finished serving dejeuner, she will proceed to the palace to see what she can find out. While it is known that I am back in Paris, I do not want to appear just yet for my royal duties. Maybe later today or tomorrow. While the Cardinal cannot absolutely confirm that I am more than a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, I wish to not give him any reason to start looking." "Fair enough," Mark allowed. "So, what'll we do until then?" "While I could indeed provide endless hours of pleasant discourse for you, I think that would not be the best idea, since you are a man of tomorrow." Alexandra pointed out. "And, to be honest, I am rather smitten with your lovely cock at the moment. So, I was thinking that we might continue to fuck one another until it is time for us to undertake your mission." Mark laughed. "Yeah, I'm good with that. "Becky would think I had gone totally stupid if I didn't agree to kill time that way." "I do not know her yet and I think I love her," Alexandra mused, smirking. Her sapphire eyes glittered with delight. "We shall make the most of our time together." They went back to eating their breakfast, prepared by Lisette, and if Mark found the fare unusual, he certainly couldn't complain about the taste. Sausages, hearty bread, along with some vegetables and a broth. A new delicacy to the Sun King's France, Chantilly cream, rounded out the meal, and she promised him that later they would share of bottle of a very special new type of wine, from the region of Champagne. Lisette had dressed and excused herself, heading off to the Louvre to find out information for her Mistress. This left Mark alone with Alexandra, and if he was feeling any awkwardness, she certainly wasn't. She smiled and shed her clothes, exposing her glorious body. She took him by the hand and led him back to her bedroom, smiling at him. "Not to seem indelicate, Mark, but; have you ever fucked a girl in her behind before?" she asked. He nodded. "Done it with Becky more than a few times recently. And yeah, I'd really like to fuck yours." She smiled, pleased with his response. "Excellent, it has been a while for me, at least since a man has done it to me." "Lisette certainly has her uses." Mark chuckled. "More than you can ever know, my friend," she agreed as she stood in front of him and helped remove his clothing. She was close enough that her tits pressed to his chest, her hips touched his and her cunt was nestled against his cock, which was beginning to swell. She looked up into his eyes, her own glinting with desire. "I look forward to feeling you in my ass, Mark." She put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He was thrilled by her assertiveness, even if she wasn't being dominant. His own hands rested on her hips before starting to wander around her divine form, finally finding her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging them, making Alexandra moan. "What I am starting to appreciate about you men of the future is that you enjoy lovemaking and carnal activity for its own sake," she purred, one of her hands now sliding down to find his cock and stroking it. "You seem free of the confines of the church's strictures, proscribing pleasure through sexual activity." "Not much point in doing it if you don't enjoy it," he agreed, shivering as her nipples poked against his chest while she squirmed her tits around. She bit his lower lip and tugged back on it, wiggling her ass cheeks against his hands. "And you seem to enjoy it a lot for someone from this time." She broke their kiss to look up at him again, her eyes flashing with her growing to fuck. Her hand was fondling his cock, which was now rigid and pulsing. "In my service to the queen, sex is often a weapon I employ. I am required to be proficient in its use to defend her and the realm." "Lucky me," he breathed as she knelt in front of him, dragging her opulent tits down his torso before arriving at his phallus. He shuddered as she began kissing his cockhead before slowly sliding him into her mouth and down her throat. "Uh, God. Beck; I mean, Alexandra." She giggled and pulled her mouth off his cock to look up at him in amusement, her hands still stroking. "Our techniques are that similar? It took much training for me to be this good, if the women of your time are this competent with ease, then I am jealous." She buried his cock in her mouth again, bobbing back and forth lustily and making him shiver and grasp at her golden locks. Her own hand snaked down between her legs and began playing with her increasingly wet cunt, teasing it. She knew they had at least a few hours before Lisette's return and she intended to make the most of them. Mark groaned and fought to control himself, little or no match for her exquisite technique. He knew he'd have to fuck her soon, or he'd be cumming in her mouth. And he was really looking forward to fucking her ass, as she intended. "Hmm," she purred, popping her mouth off of his cock and smiling slyly while sliding her tongue up the underside as she held it up. "Would you care for a chance to reciprocate, lover?" He nodded, and she stood before pulling him onto the bed. She laid him on his back and then crawled over him, facing down his body. She didn't suck on him again, so much as she toyed with his cock to keep him hard, while allowing him to kiss and lick her slick, pliant snatch. Mark buried his tongue inside her and Alexandra moaned loudly, pumping his cock. Mark slid his tongue in and out of her, marveling at her taste. He also began teasing her little knot, slipping the tip of his finger into her ass, making her groan shamelessly. She wriggled back against him, her glorious behind swaying above his face while her cunt pressed to his mouth. His finger pushed further inside her ass, wiggling about, exploring her. He gently added another and she keen as his fingers stretched her knot, preparing her for his cock. She was gasping now, her body incredibly warm and her skin flush with desire. She lunged his cock back into her mouth again, bobbing up and down hungrily. She pulled herself off his tongue and fingers, squirming down his body until she was straddling his cock. She eagerly slid his throbbing cock inside her cunt, causing him to stiffen and arch his back. She rode up and down lustily on him, while reaching back and pulling her ass cheeks apart. Mark took the hint and began fingering her puckered hole again, making sure it stayed limber and ready to receive him when she was ready. He shuddered as she squeezed herself around him, rippling her cunt wickedly until they were both sweating and shaking. Then she looked back at him and he nodded. She pulled off his cock and spun herself around, now facing him. She put on hand on his chest to steady herself, while the other reached back and took hold of his tool, helping to guide it to her quivering notch. Her felt it press against her ring, slippery with her cunt juices and then popping through readily. Alexandra sighed as she slowly but steadily settled down, taking him inside her back passage. Within seconds, he was buried to the hilt inside her. They both sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of their union. Alexandra began slowly moving up and down, Mark's cock sliding inside her ass. She pulled up until only the head was inside her, then sank back down, taking him all the way back in. Mark's hands moved up to her opulent tits and began caressing and squeezing them. She murmured in pleasure at his touch and clenched her cheeks, squeezing him tightly inside herself. "Yes, I will certainly miss this," she breathed, her eyes closed. "You are so deep inside me." He pushed his hips up and down in rhythm with her movements, his fingers now rolling around her nipples, pinching and tugging on them, the sting sending taboo thrills lancing through her. Her fingernails pressed against the skin of his chest before she leaned down and kissed him heatedly, their tongues tangling. The change in the angle of penetration meant she rocked back and forth along his length now. His hands moved down to cup her ass cheeks again, massaging them in circles and pulling them apart, making her whimper in delight. Their bodies churned and writhed against one another heatedly, mingling in pleasure. Their kissing became more fevered as tingling warmth enveloped them both. Then panted through the kiss, with Mark bracing his legs to thrust himself up deeper inside her while she braced her hands outside his shoulders and pushed back against him, burying his cock deeper in her ass than ever. Sweat shone on their skin as she pulled back from the kiss and started down into his eyes. Mark shook uncontrollably and groaned loudly, pushing up with all his might. Alexandra sighed and sat up tall, sinking onto him as he began pumping his cum into her ass. Her knot clenched greedily, throbbing around him as he filled her tight confines with his essence. She massaged her cunt frantically, her fingers flying over her clit. She bathed his groin with her cum. Colors swirled behind her eyes as the climax permeated her being. She couldn't remember the last time a man had made her cum so hard. Not since; She shuddered and collapsed on top of Mark, trembling. He lay beneath her, his hands tiredly coming to rest on her lower back. They lay in exhausted bliss together, unwilling to move. His cock throbbed in her ass, which gripped him possessively, unwilling to relinquish his prize. He showed no sign of softening, which she was thankful for, since she was deliciously pinned to him. A full hour-hour passed before they stirred. She smiled down at him before kissing him again. She rocked on his stiff cock before slowly pulling off and then laying on her side, pressed to him. She kissed his jaw, whispering words of gratefulness to him. She felt the need to do so, since there was a distinct possibility that these might be his last days alive, given the danger they would face in rescuing Rebecca. Alexandra had sworn to try and help him, and she would do everything she could, so long as it did not compromise her service to the queen. She couldn't tell him exactly how much planning and detail this required as a result, since letting the silly boy know the extreme danger he was about to face might make him balk at a crucial moment and then death was inevitable. She could only hope that his excellent physical health and desperation would see him through. It was all they had. Lisette would be back soon, and it would time to plan their mission. God help us all. Rebecca sat in her chair at the small desk of her bedroom, scowling as she drained her glass of red wine, the fourth she'd had in the past hour. She knew she was drunk, but she was too sullen and angry to feel it. She'd done little except drink since she'd been brought to the Louvre. Except for when she was heading to bed, she was rarely alone, surrounded by women who dressed her as a lady of the court and attempted to train her in her duties. She proved predictably reticent, although she had stopped punching her handlers over the last week or so. It wasn't their fault, after all. A few of them seemed worried about her well-being if she continued to prove so difficult, but Becky was mostly beyond caring. What did she have to look forward to, now? Life amongst these backward, stymphian midgets? She had a distinct feeling she was better off dead. She sighed and opened another bottle, pouring her fifth glass of the evening. Oblivion in wine was all she looked forward to. "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to meet you;” lilted an attractive voice from her door. Facing away from the entrance to her room, Becky looked up into the mirror on the wall, and saw a striking silhouette standing in the entranceway. A tall woman in a burgeoning gown stood there, apparently waiting for permission to enter. Slowly she turned around, hoping her eyes weren't too bleary with wine and grief. She rose from her chair and stood quietly, holding her hands primly in front of herself. She dipped her knees slightly in a curtsey, just in case this was Anne of Austria. The figure came into the room slowly, approaching her. The lamps and candle finally illumined her, and Becky's breath was taken away; the woman was stunning! Golden blonde hair spilled down her back, while her sapphire eyes gleamed with a sensual intelligence. Her face was classically beautiful and her impressive bust sat high inside her dress, the cleavage prominently displayed, as was typical of the court. Becky felt a tingle inside herself as she approached. "You are Rebecca, oui?" the woman asked, her voice glorious in Becky's ears. She stopped in front her and smiled dazzlingly before returning the curtsey. "I am Alexandra D'assaut, one of her majesty's ladies. I am pleased to finally meet you." "I; it is a pleasure to meet you, too, my lady." Becky said falteringly. This woman was more beautiful than she thought possible for someone of this era. "I know you are new to the palace, and it is rumored that the circumstances of your arrival were less than ideal," continued Alexandra. "You are even more beautiful than I have been told, Rebecca, and I sense a great sadness in you." She stepped even closer to Becky, who bit her lip and swallowed slightly. Their tits were almost touching, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. "But I say to you now, my friend, despair not and take heart," Alexandra said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if what she was saying was a secret meant only for Rebecca. "The days to come will give you hope." Becky didn't know what this woman meant, but she wanted to believe her. The ache in her heart lessened slightly. They stared into one another's blue eyes quietly, lost in what they saw. And then Alexandra leaned in and pressed her lips to Becky's, kissing her gently. Becky did not retreat from the kiss, although it was a second or two before she could react. She then moaned slightly and returned the kiss. The two women moved closer, tits pressing as they held one another by the arms and continued to kiss. Becky trembled, thrilling to the intimacy they shared. Alexandra pulled back from the kiss, a tempting strand of desire hanging between their lips. They both breathed as they stared, but she finally smiled and delicately used her finger to wipe the strand from their lips. "You will see me again soon, my friend," she cooed, her fingers gently caressing Becky's cheek. "I look forward to our reacquaintance." She backed up two steps and curtseyed gracefully, compelling Becky to hastily do the same, before she turned and glided out of the room, like a vision. Becky unsteadily sat back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh. Her heart was still pounding, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than heartache. Becky turned back to her bottle, trying to distract herself from the unexpected throb in her loins. "Your majesty." Alexandra said reverently, her curtsey deep and formal. "I have come to speak with you about a matter of some concern." Sitting in an ornate chair in the lavish boudoir, Anne of Austria, probably the most famous woman in Christendom, smiled at her trusted servant. "You have only just returned from Spain, my dearest Alexandra, and you have yet another matter to bring before me?" Alexandra nodded humbly, her hands in her lap. "Yes, my queen. Though it pains me to do so, I must beg a boon and ask you to trust me." "My trust in you is implicit, Alexandra D'Assaut, and needs no confirmation. Has it ever?" the queen intoned, gesturing for Alexandra to approach her, while waving for her attendants to live them alone. The two women curtseyed and exited quickly. Alexandra knelt in front of Anne and put her hand on the queen's knee in supplication, not looking up. "Your majesty, a beautiful young woman has recently been added to your retinue, and is set to enter your service within the next few weeks." Anne smiled and nodded. "I have not met her, but I am told she is quite possibly the only woman in France who rivals you in beauty. Her name is Rebecca, oui?" "Just so, my queen." Alexandra confirmed. "Do you wish for her to serve directly under you as a lady of the court?" Anne asked, knowing full well that Alexandra also enjoyed the company of woman, not merely men. "She is indeed breathtaking to behold, my queen, but no, that is not my request of you. The girl, Rebecca, do you know how she was brought to Paris?" Anne considered. "The rumor is that she was found by the Cardinal, who was convinced she would make a magnificent addition to my household. She did not come willingly, initially, and has proven somewhat intractable since." Alexandra nodded. "It is as you say, your majesty. But I know something about this woman that not even the Cardinal knows or can begin to guess at." The queen frowned slightly. "She is not a danger to us, is she?" "Not as such, no," Alexandra admitted. "But please accept my word on faith that we have no right to her and must not keep her." Anne tilted her head. "Is she secretly a member of a royal family?"

Are primitive, tribal people still living in the United States in modernity? Are feral people or “wild men” living in the shadows of Texas?  Chester Moore and Lyle Blackburn investigate chilling reports from Trinity Bay to the Big Thicket. What's really lurking in the wild woods of Texas? In this gripping new episode of Dark Outdoors, host Chester Moore teams up with Lyle Blackburn to explore disturbing reports of feral humans, primitive tribes, and mysterious wild men said to roam the deep wilderness of Texas. From the windswept marshes of Trinity Bay near Galveston to the shadowy trails of the Big Thicket National Preserve, Chester and Lyle uncover forgotten tales, firsthand accounts, and investigative research that point to off-grid people living outside the norms of society—some possibly for generations.

The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell.  The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is.  Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <

In this first opening episode of Season Ten (TEN?!), host Andrew welcomes family historian, author, RootsTech and TEDx speaker, former CEO of the Society of Genealogists and now the CEO of the Black Cultural Archives - Dr. Wanda Wyporska.THE LIFE STORY - THEODORE JOSEPH PAUL Wanda has chosen to tell the Life Story of her Great Grandfather, Theodore Joseph Paul, who was born in East Stonehouse, Devon in 1888. While she never met him, her grandmother would regularly speak of her father, and this therefore gives Wanda a fondness and curiosity of his life.Theodore was sent off, without his family, at the age of 12, where Wanda has found him at the Royal Greenwich Hospital School in Greenwich, London.Wanda is soon able to trace him through Naval records - of which there are plenty - and she can see that he travelled the world with them, but was drawn back to the UK, where he also became a member of the Freemasons.In 1912, he marries Nellie Mabel Turpin... sparking off a family rumour that the infamous highwayman Dick Turpin was also a relative. Theodore and Nellie start their family which includes Wanda's grandmother.Despite travelling the world with the Navy, there's something that keeps drawing him back to the city of Chester in Cheshire, UK.THE BRICK WALL - RICHARD HOLMES and SARAH NANNY ROGERS We're looking for clues in Barbados to help Wanda solve her Brick Wall, as she looks for the origins of her 3x Gt Grandparents Richard Holmes and Sarah Nanny Rogers.Richard appears to have been born in 1797 and died in 1849, It is believed that Sarah was a freed woman who owned slaves, but in this period, Wanda explains a few scenarios that may have meant that Sarah had enslaved people and Wanda hopes to unravel this story one day.Sarah marries Richard Holmes on 28th September 1844 in Christ Church, Barbados, but Wanda would love to know the origins of Sarah Nanny Rogers.If you think that you can help Wanda with a research clue or idea, then you can contact her via her Twitter account, or alternatively, you can send us a message and we'll pass it along to her.In the meantime.... while Wanda accepts Andrew's offer of help, she's struck by a sense of déjà vu....- - -Episode CreditsAndrew Martin - Host and ProducerDr. Wanda Wyporska - GuestFind your genealogy course from Pharos Tutors today.Support the showThank you for listening! You can sign up to our email newsletter for the latest and behind the scenes news. You can find us on Twitter @FamilyHistPod, Facebook, Instagram, and BlueSky. If you liked this episode please subscribe for free, or leave a rating or review, or consider giving us a 'tip' to keep the show funded.

The Dumb and Deadly Ghost vs. Very Strong Pig by Chester by 826 Valencia

Joe Pope is joined by Dickie Worton and Tom Jolley as they look at hot properties in the National League from Conn-Clarke to Abdulmalik. Boreham Wood's good form continues and Rob Worrall caught up with Wood's captain Callum Reynolds to talk about their good start to the season. Tom looks at Altrincham's improved recent form plus a round up of the North and South as Chester gain a valuable win and Farnborough upset the form book. Produced by Leo Audio Productions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Author, inventor, and co-writer of the iconic Star Trek episode “The Tholian Web,” Chester L. Richards continues his acclaimed Treks Beyond the Great Potato memoir series with "The Trek Continues: More Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist," releasing worldwide October 7, 2025.In this second volume, Richards expands on the journey he began in From the Potato to Star Trek and Beyond, blending pulse-pounding adventure with poignant reflections on life, love, and loss. From near-death experiences with crocodiles in Africa to a white-knuckle flight back home in California, The Trek Continues dives deep into the real-life escapades of a man who helped imagine the universe onscreen—and then went out and lived it.Richards shares what it meant to survive, to grieve, and to grow. Central to the memoir is his late wife Sarah, a brilliant and spirited presence readers first glimpsed in Book 1. Responding to fan letters asking to learn more about her, Richards infuses this new collection with her voice, her stories, and the extraordinary impact she had on his life. There are also stories of eccentric animals (including cats, a dog named Hector, and a horse—almost), scientific breakthroughs in aerospace and on earth, close calls with Neolithic tribes, and the unexpected wisdom of failure.“Every story is a letter of love to Sarah,” Richards writes. “Each stand on its own. Each is an adventure. And each is true.”Known for his witty, self-deprecating style and cinematic detail, Richards proves again that memoir can be both thrilling and intimate. A scientist by training and adventurer by instinct, he invites  readers to see life not as a linear path—but as a series of treks, each one worth telling.“Adventure starts when your gut clenches and you do it anyway,” says Richards. “That's when you find out who you really are.”The Trek Continues: More Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist is published by Pawpress. The book is now available in paperback, hardcover, and eBook for pre-order on Amazon. Advanced review copies may be requested through NetGalley.    Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/arroe-collins-like-it-s-live--4113802/support.

Cam, Kam, and Josh welcome Chester and Eric to the pod as they discuss attending New York Comic Con this year. Josh was on the scene conducting interviews and experiencing the Con as PRESS instead of a regular attendee. #blerdlines

How do you go from writing a Star Trek episode to launching rockets, facing crocodiles, and eventually healing through writing? Chester L. Richards returns to the show to share moments from his second memoir, The Trek Continues: More Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist. This lively interview explores how a vivid dream led to a Star Trek script, setting him on a lifelong path filled with science, danger, love, and self-discovery. Chester takes us behind the scenes of his early writing journey, reveals the high-stakes world of aerospace engineering, and shares stories of rafting down wild rivers and facing wild animals. But it's not just about adventure. At the center of his story is Sarah, his late partner and creative muse. Her memory continues to inspire his work and helped him through the most difficult chapter of his life. From humorous mishaps to moments of deep emotion, Chester explains how writing helped him rediscover joy. He also reflects on the importance of failure, how it shaped his career, and why it's never too late to write your own story. This is a conversation about creativity, courage, and the human spirit. Chester's journey shows that the real final frontier might just be the stories we choose to tell. #StarTrek #Memoir #RocketScience #AuthorInterview #BooksThatMakeYou #ChesterLRichards

Chester and Jonathan are joined this week by Matthew Colpitts, the City of Auburn's newest Emergency Manager! Matthew is a few months into the job and is already in the weeds of making sure the city is well-prepared for any and all disasters. Most accutely, the upcoming fall/winter seasons, namely any heavy rain, wind or snowstorms! Perhaps you remember the past two weekends, when we had atmospheric rivers in the Puget Sound region? Well, Matthew helped us prepare and manage that weather event and had it gotten partiuclarly ugly, would have helped manage the crisis and the clean up. His job doesn't stop there, either -- he's preparing us for the "Really Big One," the lahars from Mt. Rainier's eventual meltdown, and so much more.  Stick around to see if Matthew can Best the Chest on emergency preparedness trivia (hint: yes, probably, right? rightttt?????). 

Chester Dawes is the COO and CFO at Palistar Capital, an alternative asset manager focused on investing in the future of mission critical digital infrastructure. Launching and growing a private equity firm is not easy. I enjoyed sitting down with Chester to discuss how his experience going from ‘big four' accounting to industrial to private equity gave him a sense on how to navigate large and small firms from an operational perspective.     We discuss a wide range of topics from using Six Sigma for operational improvement, when to bring in the HR function, standing up affiliates to provide operational leverage, and how the cadence and requirements of portfolio company data has changed over time.   Learn More Follow Capital Allocators at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@tseides⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Subscribe to the ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠mailing list⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Access transcript with ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Premium Membership⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Editing and post-production work for this episode was provided by The Podcast Consultant (⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://thepodcastconsultant.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠)

Rachel and Chester feel time ticking away as they try to figure out where the missing students went. Luckily Edmund, a Dunnmoore student is brave enough to help out our detectives while also being their intern for the night.  This academy may be more haunted than they had originally thought.

FA Cup First Round weekend is always a magical one. But with a Kouassi double and a Brophy top-corner finish as the cherry on the cake, United made sure to snuff out as much magic as possible and avoided the dreaded banana skin with the visit of Chester. Swindle was our man on the ground, joined by Jordan for the pod to talk through getting in the hat for the next round. Subscribe to the Coconut Tier to get:

This week, the girls are recapping their Halloween-themed Los Angeles tour stop — and yes, Jasper and Chester made their grand return, joined by the one and only Tiffany (Tyson French) to bring the drama and seduction to the stage. They share all the behind-the-scenes chaos, from painful SFX makeup and a halftime mixup to the dreamy TEZZA photo booth that stole the show. Plus, they chat about what's coming up for the rest of October and how they're keeping the spooky vibes alive through the end of the month.// WHAT WE ARE WEARING/MENTIONING // https://shopmy.us/shop/whatwesaidpodcast SHOP OUR MERCH: https://shop.dearmedia.com/collections/what-we-said !!! FOLLOW US !!!INSTA: @WHATWESAID, @JACIMARIESMITH, @CHELSEYJADECURTISTIKTOK: @CHELSEYJADECURTIS, @JACIMARIESMITHYOUTUBE: WATCH WHAT WE SAID, CHELSEY JADE, JACI MARIE// SPONSORS // Vivrelle: Go to www.vivrelle.com and apply for a membership today using code WHATWESAID for your first month of membership FREE - the code will also allow you to skip the vivrelle waitlist.Factor: Eat smart at FactorMeals.com/whatwesaid50off and use code whatwesaid50off to get 50% off your first box, plus Free Breakfast for 1 Year. Gruns: Visit gruns.co and use code WHATWESAID at checkout for up to 52% off your first order. Fabletics: Go to fabletics.com/WHATWESAID and sign up as a VIP and get 88% off everything.DripDrop: Go to dripdrop.com and use promo code WHATWESAID for 20% off your first order.Please note that this episode may contain paid endorsements and advertisements for products and services. Individuals on the show may have a direct or indirect financial interest in products or services referred to in this episode.Produced by Dear Media.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The first dose of cup fever for United this season, and hopefully not the last. In a certified throwback to years gone by, Chester come to town, and despite struggling in their league campaign so far this season, we all know about the famous magic of this cup. Swindle and Jordan are joined by Neil to help preview the game.Subscribe to the Coconut Tier to get:

We're not asking what you're going to DO with/to the clown... we'll just help you find one. 

Halloween is creeping up, and the girls are out this week — which means Chester and Jasper are back to take over the mic

Just two fabulous ladies Tracey in Manchester and Ange in Chester and one quiz!

As the mental resonance between Notus and Model-101 builds in strength, the fundamental friction between their unlike minds manifests as an incarnation of that which opposes each of them in turn. A hideously twisted form of Joseph Miller has come to mete out vengeance upon both psychonauts. And while the Hidden House, as well as the ritual space within it, is as safe as can be managed, there are some who may pass whatever thresholds they may wish... Music: Three Chain Links - Magic Hour Hiroki Matsui - My Voice is Dark Ambient Kyu Sawamura - HATE Scottyknows6 - Drumception 2017 Derrick Billups - Let's Go Master White Bat Audio - Bloodlust Kai Engel - Snowfall Buckley - Beyond these Walls Dark Fantasy Studio - Faeries Dark Fantasy Studio - The Edge of Nightmare Kai Engel - Sopor Director's Note: The ORPHEUS Protocol is supported by our generous backers on Patreon: Visit http://www.patreon.com/orpheusprotocol for details. If you enjoy The ORPHEUS Protocol, please consider dropping us a review on iTunes. This is the best way for us to reach a broader audience. The ORPHEUS Protocol releases Monday, provided no community medical emergencies have taken Rob too much away from their desk.

Who killed Dr. Clawson? Chester Canby is convicted of the crime; after the prosecutor accuses him of having "shifty eyes" and of "looking like a murderer." "The silent voice of Dr. Clawson cries out to the jury for "just retribution."Original air date: March 18, 1944

Original Air Date: April 02, 1961Host: Andrew RhynesShow: GunsmokePhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• William Conrad (Matt Dillion)• Parley Baer (Chester)• Georgia Ellis (Kitty)• Howard McNear (Doc) Special Guests:• Harry Bartell• Vic Perrin• Ralph Moody• Jack Moyles Writers:• Vic Perrin• Harry Bartell Editorial Supervisor:• John Meston Producer:• Norman Macdonnell Music:• Rex Koury For more great...

This week on Toon'd In!, Jim Cummings welcomes the endlessly talented and unmistakably animated Jason Marsden! From voicing Max Goof in A Goofy Movie to Speedy in Teen Titans and Chester in Fairly OddParents, Jason's voice has been a constant companion to generations of animation fans—and now, he's bringing that same charm and charisma to the podcast booth.In this lively and nostalgia-packed episode, Jason takes us behind the mic to explore his journey from child actor to voiceover veteran, sharing how he found his place in the world of cartoons, live-action, and everything in between. He opens up about navigating Hollywood, the evolution of the voice acting industry, and what it's like to grow up alongside the characters he voices.Jim and Jason dig into decades of friendship, the changing landscape of fandom, and how voice actors are finally stepping into the spotlight. With unforgettable stories from recording sessions, convention floors, and the wacky world of ‘toon life, this episode is a heartfelt celebration of staying playful, staying passionate, and staying true to your voice.

Johnny Potoky & Oreo Brewer join me in this retrospect/tribute on the divisive yet influential music group LINKIN PARK   Talking Points Include: *How this band and Nine Inch Nails both become healing music *We critique the sexist trolls & people who were never going to accept any new Linkin Park material as being the main problem *How people love to hate ANYTHING they do even though they're not fans & how the group got a better ethical character compared to other garbage rock bands *The dark realities of Chester Bennington and question why it takes famous people to bring this up in our own personal conversations *How these music artists influence our personal author & music video creating experiences *We also talk about who was the ACTUAL owner of the band *How shitty Chester's song was (when he has no business being on social media in the first place) *And the debate on music artists finding a new music style Vs. losing their true sense of comradery.     SONGS/CLIPS USED: Zane Lowe 2023 Interview (Meteora Album 20th Anniversary) "Cure for the Itch" and "Blackbirds" by Linkin Park    

On today's episode, Jillian and Kyle welcome back the voice of the Philadelphia Union, Dave Leno, to recap the club's regular season and preview the 2025 MLS Cup Playoffs. They discuss key themes from the Union's season, potential playoff matchups, and their overall thoughts on the squad heading into the postseason.Make sure to subscribe or follow, and please interact with us; we love to hear from you!Make sure to check out our appearance on Fox 29's Brotherly Love FC: https://www.youtube.com/live/nDu3c7GUZn0?si=aNZHDpXn6GnZ2o3V• Twitter: @totwag• Facebook/Instagram: theoneteamweagreeon (all one word)• We are now on all major podcasting platforms and on YouTube.• Check out our website: www.theoneteamweagreeon.com#DOOP #SOCCER #MLS #MLSOCCER #PHILLY #PHILADELPHIAUNION

Chester and Jonathan are joined by Kjerstin Lange, the City of Auburn's fitness coordinator! Somehow she'd avoided coming onto the show for over two years but don't worry, we finally caught her. In addition to leading all of Auburn's fitness, she also oversees several large-scale events, including, of course, the Halloween Harvest Festival and Trunk or Treat! It's coming up this Saturday at Les Gove Park, so tune in to learn why you (and your kids, duh) should check it out. Stick around to hear about why you should also check out our low-cost fitness options, and why it's never been a better time to bike in Auburn.

10-21-25 KRQE's Jared Chester joins TEAM Talk as Lobos gear up for Utah State

The most beautiful city in the world, according to the golden ratio, is Chester. Yes, Chester! The one in England's north west! We've had the greatest mathematicians use the golden ratio and this is what it spat out!What do you think is the most beautiful city in the world?

The worst of the worst content from one of WWE's greatest years ever. Simon Miller presents the 10 Worst WWE Moments Of 2000...ENJOY!Follow us on Twitter:@SimonMiller316@WhatCultureWWEFor more awesome content, check out: whatculture.com/wwe Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Sometimes the most powerful lessons in justice come from the most unexpected places. In this episode of Zone 7, Sheryl McCollum joins retired FBI agent Scott Duffey and retired NYPD Sergeant Joseph Giacalone for the first-ever Wildlife CSI Academy at Pennsylvania's Lake Tobias Wildlife Park. Surrounded by giraffes, kangaroos, and a sloth named Chewy, they reflect on how working beside endangered animals reshaped their understanding of empathy, preparation, and teamwork. This heartfelt conversation reminds us that sometimes the best lessons in justice come from the wild. Guest Bio and Links: Joseph Giacalone is a retired NYPD Sergeant (SDS) and former Commanding Officer of the Bronx Cold Case Squad. He serves as an adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and is the author of The Criminal Investigative Function: A Guide for New Investigators and The Cold Case Handbook. Giacalone also hosts True Crime with the Sarge and is a frequent media commentator on criminal investigations. Scott Duffey is a retired FBI Supervisory Special Agent who served more than two decades in the Bureau's Baltimore Division, including the Wilmington Resident Agency and the Delaware Violent Crimes Task Force. He now directs the Criminal Justice Institute at Wilmington University and continues to teach interview and interrogation techniques to law-enforcement professionals. Duffey also provides on-air crime analysis for FOX, CNN, and NewsNation Highlights: (0:00) Sheryl welcomes Scott Duffey and Joseph Giacalone to Zone 7 (1:00) A zoo like no other: first impressions of Lake Tobias Wildlife Park and the unique setting for CSI training (5:00) Television fact vs. Fiction: Joseph explains how collaboration really happens (5:45) Honoring Jane Goodall: fighting poaching through education, enforcement, and compassion (8:45) From cocktails to classrooms: The Hamptons Whodunit conversation that sparked the Wildlife CSI Academy (11:45) Animal cameos that stole the spotlight: Chester the kangaroo and Chewy the sloth (12:45) Finding common ground: why humor, empathy, and humanity are essential in every interview (16:00) "Hope is not a plan.” Joseph’s reminder that preparation beats wishful thinking every time (23:15) Wild encounters on safari: from bison to black panthers (25:15) Scott’s new friend: the monkey that steals cell phones (26:00) Joseph’s “Wine and Crime” talk on cold cases and community advocacy (31:30) Closing thoughts, Jane Goodall, and justice for all creatures Enjoying Zone 7? Leave a rating and review. Your feedback helps others find the show and supports our mission to educate, engage, and inspire. --- Sheryl “Mac” McCollum is an Emmy Award-winning CSI, a writer for CrimeOnline, forensic and crime scene expert for Crime Stories with Nancy Grace, and co-author of the textbook Cold Case: Pathways to Justice. She is the founder and director of the Cold Case Investigative Research Institute, a national collaboration that advances techniques for solving cold cases and assists families and law enforcement with unsolved homicides, missing persons, and kidnappings. Social Links: Email: coldcase2004@gmail.com Twitter: @ColdCaseTips Facebook: @sheryl.mccollum Instagram: @officialzone7podcast See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode of Cubs Out Loud, the guys welcome back a familiar face to the show: Chester aka Shutter! Shutter returns to school the cubs on what it means to be a furry. From the simple definition to a brief deep dive into the culture & more, listen as the guys learn more about … Continue reading COL802: Furries 101 →

Many communities face an uneven food landscape: plenty of cheap junk food, but few places to buy fresh, healthy food. This pattern—often called “food apartheid”—doesn't happen by accident; it grows from redlining, unfair rules, and corporate control. The impacts are steep: higher rates of type 2 diabetes, kidney failure, and learning problems in Black, Latino, and Indigenous communities, along with unsafe conditions for farmworkers. These harms have a long history, and government subsidies and convincing marketing keep ultraprocessed foods on top. However, we take practical steps to make change including investing in regenerative and community farms, protecting and fairly paying farmworkers, and enforcing civil-rights laws so public dollars support real food, healthy soil, and communities that thrive. In this episode, Leah Penniman, Dr. Rupa Marya, Raj Patel, Karen Washington, and I discuss why food injustices exist and how we can create regenerative food systems to serve everyone. Leah Penniman is a Black Kreyol educator, farmer/peyizan, author, and food justice activist from Soul Fire Farm in Grafton, NY. She co-founded Soul Fire Farm in 2010 with the mission to end racism in the food system and reclaim our ancestral connection to land. As co-Executive Director, Leah is part of a team that facilitates powerful food sovereignty programs - including farmer training for Black & Brown people, a subsidized farm food distribution program for communities living under food apartheid, and domestic and international organizing toward equity in the food system. Leah has been farming since 1996, holds an MA in Education and a BA in Environmental Science from Clark University, and is a Manye (Queen Mother) in Vodun.  Dr. Rupa Marya is a physician, activist, mother, and composer. She is an Associate Professor of Medicine at the University of California, San Francisco where she practices and teaches Internal Medicine. Her research examines the health impacts of social systems, from agriculture to policing. She is a co-founder of the Do No Harm Coalition, a collective of health workers committed to addressing disease through structural change. At the invitation of Lakota health leaders, she is currently helping to set up the Mni Wiconi Health Clinic and Farm at Standing Rock in order to decolonize medicine and food.  Raj Patel is a Research Professor at the University of Texas at Austin's Lyndon B Johnson School of Public Affairs, a professor in the University's department of nutrition, and a Research Associate at Rhodes University, South Africa. He is the author of Stuffed and Starved, the New York Times bestselling The Value of Nothing, co-author of A History of the World in Seven Cheap Things. A James Beard Leadership Award winner, he is the co-director of the award-winning documentary about climate change and the food system, The Ants & The Grasshopper.  Karen is a farmer, activist, and food advocate. She is the Co-owner and Farmer at Rise & Root Farm in Chester, New York. In 2010, Karen Co-Founded Black Urban Growers (BUGS), an organization supporting growers in both urban and rural settings. In 2012, Ebony magazine voted her one of the 100 most influential African Americans in the country, and in 2014 Karen was the recipient of the James Beard Leadership Award. Karen serves on the boards of the New York Botanical Gardens, SoulFire Farm, the Mary Mitchell Center, Why Hunger, and Farm School NYC. This episode is brought to you by BIOptimizers. Head to bioptimizers.com/hyman and use code HYMAN to save 15%. Full-length episodes can be found here:Why Food Is A Social Justice Issue Food Justice: Why Our Bodies And Our Society Are Inflamed A Way Out Of Food Racism And Poverty

Before a body is ever opened, a medical examiner must consider what dangers might be waiting inside: fentanyl, tuberculosis or even a hidden needle. This week on Pathology with Dr. Priya, a Zone 7 series, Sheryl McCollum and Dr. Priya Banerjee share stories from their recent visit to Lake Tobias Wildlife Park. There, they took part in Wildlife CSI training, a hands-on blend of forensic education and animal encounters, including time with Chester, a baby kangaroo who quickly won everyone over. From there, the conversation shifts to the serious risks medical examiners face every day. From bloodborne pathogens and drug exposure to unstable death scenes and unpredictable infections, Dr. Priya offers a closer look at the hidden hazards behind every autopsy. Highlights (0:00) Welcome to Pathology with Dr. Priya: A Zone 7 series—Sheryl and Dr. Priya open the episode with highlights from the Wildlife CSI training at Lake Tobias Wildlife Park (3:15) Embracing lifelong learning, from seasoned investigators to students in the field (4:45 Honoring Dr. Jane Goodall and recognizing how wildlife crime intersects with forensic science (6:30) The hidden dangers of autopsy work: COVID, drug exposure, and unknown infections (8:30) Safety in the morgue: scalpel slips, needle sticks, and the rise of pandemic-era protocols (12:30) Fentanyl, MRSA, TB, and the health risks involved in cases with limited medical histories or unidentified individuals (17:00) Environmental hazards at the death scene, from fire damage and rough terrain to unpredictable animals (22:15) Morgue myths, pet protection, and why even the smallest details can carry big dangers About the Hosts Dr. Priya Banerjee is a board-certified forensic pathologist with extensive experience in death investigation, clinical forensics, and courtroom testimony. A graduate of Johns Hopkins, she served for over a decade as Rhode Island’s state medical examiner and now runs a private forensic pathology practice. Her work includes military deaths, NSA cases, and high-profile investigations. Dr. Priya has also been featured as a forensic expert on platforms such as CrimeOnline and Crime Stories with Nancy Grace. She is a dedicated educator, animal lover, and proud mom. Website: anchorforensicpathology.comTwitter/X: @Autopsy_MD Sheryl McCollum is an Emmy Award–winning CSI, a writer for CrimeOnline, and the Forensic and Crime Scene Expert for Crime Stories with Nancy Grace. She works as a CSI for a metro Atlanta Police Department and is the co-author of the textbook Cold Case: Pathways to Justice. Sheryl is also the founder and director of the Cold Case Investigative Research Institute (CCIRI), a nationally recognized nonprofit that brings together universities, law enforcement, and experts to help solve unsolved homicides, missing persons cases, and kidnappings. Email: coldcase2004@gmail.comTwitter/X: @ColdCaseTipsFacebook: @sheryl.mccollumInstagram: @officialzone7podcast

Rhett Bordeaux attempts an unprecedented fusion of psychic and arcane feats to merge the minds of Notus Fredericks and Model-101, attempting to free the Expression's mind from its creator, once and for all. Music: Three Chain Links - Magic Hour Xenojam - Towards Death Kevin MacLeod - Birch Run Kandinsky - Night Crawl Three Chain Links - It's all too much Sleep Rivers - Festival of Fire Spirits Dark Fantasy Studio - Dungeon of Shadows Josh Woodward - Follow the Road (Instrumental) Scott Buckley - Pathfinder Peritune - Firmament2_Calm VITNE - HSay Goodbye J.C. Vogt - A Lonesome Hero Alexander Nakrada - Sovereign Kai Engel - Delirium Kai Engel - A Neon Flesh Hiroki Matsui - My Voice is Dark Ambient Zander Noriega - Dragged Through Hellfire Director's Note: The ORPHEUS Protocol is supported by our generous backers on Patreon: Visit http://www.patreon.com/orpheusprotocol for details. If you enjoy The ORPHEUS Protocol, please consider dropping us a review on iTunes. This is the best way for us to reach a broader audience. The ORPHEUS Protocol releases Monday, provided no community medical emergencies have taken Rob too much away from their desk. 

1. Nimitz Takes Command at Pearl Harbor: Manager vs. Fighter AUTHOR: Professor Craig Symonds BOOK TITLE: Nimitz at War: Command Leadership from Pearl Harbor to Tokyo Bay Chester Nimitz arrived at Pearl Harbor by seaplane on Christmas 1941 to take over a wrecked command, tasked with bringing stability and recovery. He was chosen by FDR and Secretary Knox, who knew him personally from his time as Bureau Chief of Naval Personnel. Admiral Ernest King, however, was initially skeptical, viewing Nimitz as a "fixer" or manager, doubting his toughness. Nimitz, despite private anxieties, maintained a calm, confident presence for his staff. A key irony is that Nimitz had previously suggested a more senior officer (Kimmel) take the Pacific Fleet command, saving himself from being the victim of the Japanese attack. The Navy's internal "brown shoes" (aviators) versus "black shoes" rivalry is also introduced. 1890 USS NAHUNT

Keev and Alex make sleepy week 6 picks, then two days later Beet Rose joins the pod to preview the ALCS and NLCS and opine on Chester's Cy Young, Hank Aaron and MVP award ballots. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

For centuries, the legend of King Arthur has ignited imaginations, blurring the line between history and myth while sparking endless fascination and debate. Now, join us for an exclusive conversation with Mark Olly, a world-renowned historian and archaeologist whose 45 years of research into Arthurian lore reveal groundbreaking insights that challenge long-held assumptions about Britain's most enduring hero. As the acclaimed author of The Polychronicon of Merlin, Joseph, and Arthur, Mark presents compelling evidence suggesting the legend may be rooted in truth. An internationally celebrated author, TV producer, and presenter of the hit series Lost Treasures, he also lectures at Wilmslow Guild and the University of Chester, leads his own archaeological unit, and heads MythCo, a company specializing in DVD production and historical props. Based in Cheshire, UK, this multifaceted scholar, broadcaster, musician, and artist brings his passion and expertise to offer a fresh, captivating perspective on the timeless saga of Merlin, Joseph, and King Arthur—a riveting exploration of one of history's greatest and most enduring legends.The Polychronicon Of Merlin, Joseph & Arthur:  https://amzn.eu/d/8sauzmDWe are thrilled to announce the official launch of Let's Get Freaky merchandise! Our collection includes hoodies, t-shirts, mugs, stickers, and more. Explore the full range at http://tee.pub/lic/aQprv54kktw. Do you have a paranormal or extraordinary experience to share? We'd love to hear from you! Contact us to be a guest on the Let's Get Freaky podcast. Email us at letsgetfreakypodcast@mail.com or reach out via social media on Facebook, Instagram, X, TikTok, or YouTube at @tcletsgetfreakypodcast. Connect with us at https://linktr.ee/letsgetfreaky.

A unique community in Chester in northern England, brings multiple generations together to encourage learning and connection. We explore how young children in the onsite nursery benefit from the time, attention and vocabulary skills offered by the older adults. Meanwhile the retirement home residents can benefit from increased social activity and a sense of purpose. We also speak to an intergenerational expert in Spain about the growing evidence that backs this new societal approach.Presenter: Myra Anubi Producer: Claire Bates Editor: Jon Bithrey Sound mix: Andrew Mills(Image: Younger and older mingle at the Belong retirement village, Chester, UK, BBC)

An overwhelming military force descends on Ishmael, Faolan, Stasya, Walter, and Mitch, as the world remembers that a place called Chester, Illinois exists. Music: Three Chain Links - Magic Hour Peter Rudenko - 5:00 AM Scott Buckley - The Fury Natus - Cure Alexander Nakarada - Foam Rubber Headlighter- At the Crime Scene Neuron Spectre - Full Moon Overdrive (2018 mix) Alexander Nakarada - Headless Horseman Josh Woodward - She Dreams in Blue (Instrumental Version) City-Hunter - UNATCO - Orange Edition White Bat Audio - Journey Into the Black Myuu - Cornered Kai Engel - At the End Everyone Dies Alexander Nakarada - Nomadic Sunset (2019) Matty M - Make Chugging Great Again! Director's Note: The ORPHEUS Protocol is supported by our generous backers on Patreon: Visit http://www.patreon.com/orpheusprotocol for details. If you enjoy The ORPHEUS Protocol, please consider dropping us a review on iTunes. This is the best way for us to reach a broader audience. The ORPHEUS Protocol releases Monday, provided no community medical emergencies have taken Rob too much away from their desk.