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November 14th, 2025 - We welcome back Dr. Anthony Stine of Return to Tradition to catch up on Catholic news from the past week. Then we're joined again by Bp. Athanasius Schneider to discuss his new book "No Greater Love: The True Meaning of Martyrdom". TheStationOfTheCross.com/ACT  

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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,

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Portland Mom FINDS OUT! CRIES LIKE A BI*CH when ICE Agent STOPS HER! FAFO!

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From Trump's renewed peace push to the Vatican's calls for a two-state solution, world leaders are promising “peace and safety.” But what happens next? It's Open Line Friday on The Endtime Show — your calls, your questions, and your perspective on prophecy and current events happening right now.   ⭐️: True Gold Republic: Get The Endtime Show special on precious metals at https://www.endtimegold.com 📱: It's never been easier to understand. Stream Only Source Network and access exclusive content: https://watch.osn.tv/browse 📚: Check out Jerusalem Prophecy College Online for less than $60 per course: https://jerusalemprophecycollege.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

GloRilla surprises her father with a brand-new Jaguar SUV at his retirement party after 29 years with the U.S. Postal Service, a gesture that brought him to tears and set social media ablaze. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The election of Zohran Mamdani is unique on many levels, and none of them good. In June 2025, during an interview on the podcast The Bulwark, Mamdani was asked about the slogan “Globalize the Intifada”. Far from condemning it, he was in favor of it, describing it as a symbolic expression of “a desperate desire for equality and equal rights in standing up for Palestinian human rights.” Considering there are more Jews in New York City than live in Tel Aviv, he's an interesting choice for mayor, wouldn't you say?“Rejoice not thou, whole Palestina, because the rod of him that smote thee is broken: for out of the serpent's root shall come forth a cockatrice, and his fruit shall be a fiery flying serpent.” Isaiah 14:29 (KJB)On this episode of the Prophecy News Podcast, this is Day 2,061 of 15 Days To Flatten The Curve and our end times activity meter is pinning the needle all the way to the right, pushing it to the breaking point. Cries of ‘escape from New York' threaten a mass exodus from the ‘greatest city in the world', as Mamdani comes out swinging in his first interview. He declared war on capitalism, on Republicans, on the rich, and on Donald Trump and all his voters. Speaking of MAGA, Republicans are at each other's throats with infighting, and the government shutdown just might end air travel as we know it. Tucker Carlson is now lowkey promoting white nationalism and antisemitism, and Poland is preparing to fight Russia in WWIII. Join us as we amp up the crazy and show you just how close we are to Flight #777 taking off.

Are they really evil villains or are they misunderstood?We discuss a new gadget being created for spicy foods as well as a tips to fall asleepSometimes you just need a good cry... so schedule one!Antionette is todays player of FM104's ins2grand Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The visibly frail and cognitively impaired President of the United States got on Truth Social to whine about the fact that he had to "work really hard" during his trip to Asia last week. Trump whined that Chuck Schumer called the trip a failure, which it was, and Trump then accused Schumer of treason over those remarks. The whole thing shows what a crybaby Trump really is, as Farron explains. In a little-noticed talk with reporters last week, Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. admitted that he DOES NOT have "sufficient evidence" to back up his claim from September that Tylenol is linked to increased rates of autism. This is a massive departure from the grand press briefing he held with Donald Trump where Trump repeatedly yelled "DON'T TAKE TYLENOL." And the new claim from Kennedy came just one day after the Texas Attorney General announced they were suing the makers of Tylenol based on Kennedy's initial claims. FBI Director Kash Patel was busted recently by a right wing critic of his for using the FBI's private jet to travel out of state to go watch his VERY young girlfriend perform at a country music festival. The worst part, aside from the disturbing age difference between Patel and his girlfriend, is that this isn't even the first time this year that he's used the agency's $60 million plane for a date night - it's not even the second time he's done it this year! A mass purge of people who could tell Donald Trump "no" is underway throughout the federal government in ways that most people don't even realize. From leadership at Homeland Security, to the Department of Defense, to the Department of Justice, and even the Commission of Fine Arts, Trump is getting rid of anyone who might stand in the way of his grand plans. This is exceptionally dangerous for the country, and things are only going to get worse as he replaces people who had consciences with spineless yes men. Text and and let us know your thoughts on today's stories!Subscribe to our YouTube channel to stay up to date on all of Farron's content: https://www.youtube.com/FarronBalancedFollow Farron on social media! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FarronBalanced Twitter: https://twitter.com/farronbalanced Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/farronbalanced TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@farronbalanced?lang=en

Two offerings. Two motivations. Both reveal the condition of the heart. In this message, Pastor Josh continues our study of Genesis as we examine the story of Cain and Abel and how the posture of our heart influences our choice to follow God. When sin cries out, grace cries louder.November 3, 2025

LUKE 19:41-48

Disembodied Cries For HELP From MISSING PEOPLE!Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/missing-persons-mysteries--5624803/support.

Is it wrong to cry out to God? What if being honest with God about your pain is actually a good thing? Many of us hide our sadness and questions from God. We think it means we don't trust Him. But what if the opposite is true? What if telling God exactly how you feel is a powerful way to trust Him?In this episode, we learn how to lament, bringing your real, raw hurts and honest questions to God. It's not a sign of weak faith; it's a powerful act of trust. To read more, click the blog link: https://kuzaapp.com/take-your-cries-to-god/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kuzaappInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/kuzaappTik Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@kuzaapp Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/kuza--3674993/support.

Cherokee Elder CRIES OUT: SOMETHING Is Going On In The North Carolina Mountains Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Steve reacts to New York City's Islamist almost-mayor Zohran Mamdani shedding tears over perceived "Islamophobia" — a stone's throw from Ground Zero. Jack Posobiec of Human Events joins the show to discuss efforts to ensure Charlie Kirk's alleged murderer's trial has cameras in the courtroom and other news of the day. In Hour Two, Fake News or Not reacts to a hodgepodge of items that caught Steve's eye on social media. Finally, Pop Culture Tuesday is Steve's review of the new movie "Black Phone 2." TODAY'S SPONSORS: RELIEF FACTOR: VISIT https://www.relieffactor.com/ OR CALL 800-4-RELIEF CHIRP: https://gochirp.com/pages/steve-deace use promo code STEVE MOXIE PEST SERVICES: Visit https://moxieservices.com/steve/ and use promo code STEVE PATRIOT MOBILE: https://patriotmobile.com/STEVE or call 972-PATRIOT for your FREE MONTH of service Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello music fans! Welcome to episode 22! Sure appreciate you taking some time to check it out!This time out, I spent some time talking with Scotch Swango (guitar/vocals), Jay Druba (drums), and Tyler Roell (bass) from the band November Swim Club. Scotch and I have crossed paths a few times in the last couple of years, and I had the good fortune of seeing them play at show recently at the Turn Table in Broad Ripple in Indianapolis. At that point, I knew we had to make time to sit down for a podcast episode. And it could not have gone better. I had such a great time talking to the guys. I am sure you will enjoy the conversation!So let's get to it! Song clips from their new EP, You Have Been Asleep Since November:...with Cries of Hate (30:16)Self-Defense (43:11)Bands On The RadarInstagram: @bandsontheradarWeb: bandsontheradar.blogFacebook: @bandsontheradarYouTube: @bandsontheradarGmail: bandsontheradar@gmail.com

Strange DISEMBODIED Cries for HELP from MISSING PEOPLEBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/missing-persons-mysteries--5624803/support.

Patrick Bet-David, Tom Ellsworth, Vincent Oshana, and Adam Sosnick unpack Zohran Mamdani crying, Gavin Newsom's 2028 presidential plans, President Trump's rumored third term, and the new 10% tariffs on Canada.------

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Truck Driver CRIES OUT! DO NOT TRAVEL these North Carolina Backroads! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Grace and Lauren commiserate over Brad Marchand's return to Boston for the first time as an opposing player. Lauren provides goalie commentary (shocker), and Grace learns that you can do therapy for your eyes. Don't forget to follow us on Twitter: @BOSBruinsHC, @GRobs_Boston, and @AllGoalsNoMrs. Don't forget to use code THPN on DraftKings! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Cheating Husband Fake Cries To Police About Model Wife's Murder - Until Mistresses Out His Many LiesBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

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Felicia is joined by Jeanmarie Vargas to discuss the concept of inherent depression through Lars von Trier's Melancholia (2011). We chat about Lars von Trier's desire to break down his own battles with depression through these characters, along with the importance of Wagner in his work. Send us your thoughts on the episode by sending us a message on any of our social platforms or by email: seeingfacesinmovies@gmail.com Listen to our previous episode: The Piano Teacher (Michael Haneke 2001) Follow Jeanmarie here: Movie Friends Podcast - That's Messed Up Series on Patreon: https://www.moviefriendspodcast.com/ Spotify:@MovieFriendsPodcast Apple Podcasts: @MovieFriendsPodcast Twitter: @jeanmarievargas Sources: https://thereveal.substack.com/p/melancholia-at-10-a-decade-of-waiting https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20210512-is-melancholia-the-greatest-film-about-depression-ever-made https://flipscreened.com/2021/05/04/melancholia-2011-and-how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love-the-planet/ https://charlieceratops.medium.com/the-devastating-beauty-of-melancholia-2011-fb898b41ec85 http://www.cinemablography.org/the-existential-philosophy-of-melancholia.html https://disobedientsounds.com/2021/04/29/melancholia-and-the-infinite-sadness/ https://www.sensesofcinema.com/2024/film-and-the-nonhuman/is-the-earth-fucked-lars-von-triers-melancholia-2011-albrecht-durers-melencolia-1-1514/ https://www.sensesofcinema.com/2011/feature-articles/the-lonely-planet-lars-von-triers-melancholia/ Outro Song: Credits (Tristan and Isolde) by Richard Wagner and City Of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra Films Mentioned: The Piano Teacher (Michael Haneke 2001) Antichrist (Lars von Trier 2009) Nymphomaniac (Lars von Trier 2013) Dimension (Lars von Trier 2010) The Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky 1975) Cries and Whispers (Ingmar Bergman 1972)

Faith That Cries Out | Luke 18:1-8 Sermon | Persistent Prayer & Trusting GodStruggling with unanswered prayers? This powerful sermon on Luke 18:1-8 explores Jesus' parable of the persistent widow and unjust judge, revealing what true faith looks like when God seems silent. Learn how to pray without losing heart, trust God's perfect timing, and find confidence in Christ's intercession.This Lutheran sermon unpacks the Gospel message of God's faithfulness, showing how persistent prayer flows from God's mercy, not our worthiness. Discover biblical encouragement for when heaven feels closed, explore the Law-Gospel distinction in Scripture, and understand how Christ sustains our faith through Word and Sacrament.Perfect for Christians seeking deeper understanding of prayer, faith during trials, and trusting God's promises. Whether you're facing delayed answers, spiritual discouragement, or want to grow in your prayer life, this expository preaching will strengthen your walk with Christ.Support this ministry: https://buymeacoffee.com/whitegandalph buymeacoffee.com/whitegandalphTopics covered: Persistent prayer, unanswered prayers, trusting God, Luke 18 sermon, parable of the widow, faith in trials, Lutheran preaching, Gospel encouragement, Christ's intercession, biblical prayer teaching#ChristianSermon #Luke18 #PrayerLife #BiblicalPreaching #LutheranTheologyLuke 18 sermon,persistent prayer,unanswered prayer,trusting God,faith in trials,parable of the widow,unjust judge parable,Lutheran sermon,Gospel preaching,Christ intercession,biblical encouragement,prayer life,losing heart,God's faithfulness,expository preaching,ESV sermon,Sunday sermon,Christian faith,spiritual growth,prayer teaching,Law and Gospel,reformed preaching,Protestant sermon,faith and perseverance

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Have you heard of the TV show Bridge of Lies? Jim-Jim tells us about it and Zeinab MAJORLY misunderstandsCrossy tells us about Pharrells signatureZeinab has good news for people that like horror movies but hate exercisingKaren is todays player of FM104's ins2grand Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, recorded Sun., October 12, 2025. Based on Luke 17:11-19. Pastor Johnold Strey. Website: crownoflifehubertus.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crownoflifehubertus/ Written transcriptions: https://johnoldstrey.wordpress.com/

Christine's parents learn to reconnect and explore. By Liminally Spaced. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.This story is a derivative of Sex Ed. Lessons, a 21-part tale at Explicit Novels podcast. Cathy could barely take the sensations coursing through her body. While she hadn't felt Sam's tongue on her cunt in over 15 years, she hadn't done this act with anyone in close to 20. Memories immediately rushed her mind, swirling in the endorphins, images and sensations of nights with her previous boyfriend. Orgasms. Pleasure. Fucking. Grinding. Lost in the feeling, she fell back into sense memory. Her hand dropped down into Sam's hair and gripped it hard.Sam groaned into her wet snatch. She felt it. His cock lurched. Cathy held his head still. Bracing herself with one hand on the headboard, her thighs and hips began to flex. Sam got the message. He held his tongue in position as his wife began to grind her throbbing cunt against it, fucking his face. "Oh my God" she moaned out long and loud as she directed her pleasure points onto his wet, pulsating tongue. It was like a bolt of lightning coiling up inside her body. She felt his hand grip her ass instinctively, just like she liked, just like the others had, and suddenly she began to shake and shudder, slipping over the edge into heat. Into pleasure. Into an explosive, body-wracking orgasm. Sam held her tight as she wriggled and jerked, grinding into his tongue. He felt wetness pour from her being; his wife, cumming into his mouth. Cumming on his face. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" she chanted. She rarely used curse words like that in front of him, and he found it highly erotic. His mind raced: when did she learn she liked this? Who was the first one to do it to her? How many men had she done it with? He had never been so hard in his entire life. Slowly the world came back into view, and Cathy collapsed off her husband onto the bed next to him, both their breaths coming hard and ragged. "Oh my Lord," he said between breaths, "that was so sexy." Cathy felt a warm glow pass through her; she had been worried for nothing. She looked down at her husband's thick, straining cock, flush with desire, almost painful looking. He wasn't lying. She reached for it, touching it. Holding it. She had just had the best orgasm of her life, but she was still wet. Still horny. She turned her face toward his, and made a single, syrupy request, the same she made on their honeymoon: "Fuck me, Sam." He smiled and turned quickly to the bedside table, retrieving a condom. He was on her in an instant, kissing, groping, squeezing. He positioned himself between her legs, but her sweet center wouldn't come to him easily. He struggled, first with the condom wrapper, then with the condom itself, its slippery latex never quite gaining purchase around the head of his desperate cock. "God, I really do hate these things," he said through clenched teeth. Cathy lay there, desperate to feel her husband push himself inside her, equally frustrated with the fact that they were still using condoms after almost 20 years of marriage. Then a thought came to her. They had already cracked open the door of her past, what could it hurt to crack it open a bit more, especially if she knew it would bring them both a wealth of new sensation and pleasure? "Sam, honey, I, I have an idea." He looked down at her, beautiful and wanton below him, and waited with bated breath to hear it. "What if you didn't use a condom, and pulled out just before you were going to cum?" Sam felt a hard throb between his legs. "But aren't you worried about; I mean what if you; " "It,” she paused, once again hesitant to broach this area of her own experiences, but something about the way he looked at her told her to continue on. "It's never been a problem for me, in the past." "You've, done that before?" Sam said almost breathlessly. He didn't even realize his hand started slowly pumping his cock. "Yes." "You've had a man inside you without a condom, and he pulled out before he finished?" "Yes. My ex and I, he didn't like condoms either. it was our solution to the birth control problem." "Then where did he finish?" She watched his hand stroke his cock long and hard. She felt her cunt throb. "On me." Sam gulped hard and felt himself start to sweat. "Where?" His wife looked him dead in the eye. "Wherever he wanted." That was all Sam could take. He hiked her legs up around his waist, and with gasping desperate breaths roaring out of them each like a blast furnace, he lined himself up at her wet, swollen entrance, and pushed. Moans erupted from the lovers as she took him full to the hilt. Electricity burst through the closed circuit of their bodies as they felt each other unencumbered for the first time in over 15 years. Sam began to thrust himself into his wife, long, hard, and joyously. He gave her everything he had, and her tight, sopping-wet cunt gripped him deliciously and demanded more. He and his wife were truly one once again, but as her slick, velvety walls stoked the fire building in his loins, all he could think about was the image of some other man pushing into his wife, fucking her, pleasing her the way he was right then and there. Her cunt squeezing her lover's cock the way she was squeezing his. Gripping her lover's waist with her legs and heels, egging him on, the same way she was gripping his. Taking everything her lover had, that way she was taking it from him, only for her lover to slip out of her at the height of his frenzied pleasure so her body could take two balls-full of hot cum the way she was about to take his. Sam couldn't help but wonder where her lover, lovers, had cum. He pictured his wife, another man's seed splashing across her stomach, scattered lewdly across her back and ass, dripping from her perfect breasts, maybe even her beautiful face. Had they cum on her face? Had these men fucked Sam's wife to the point of eruption, then pulled out and lurched their thick seed onto her face? Did she like it? Did she ask for it? Cathy's body was a hot cluster of firing nerve endings. Sam was fucking her with a passion she couldn't ever remember experiencing from him, and she was unable to stifle her pleasure-filled yelps, moans, and cries as he drove his thick cock into her over and over. It felt bigger. Thicker. She could feel her body stretch to accommodate it, rushing fresh rivers of her juices down to encourage him, to welcome his cock. A slight shift in position suddenly adjusted his angle of approach, and Cathy was overcome by intense, rushing pleasure as the head of his cock began to hit her in the exact right spot. She was going to cum again. "Oh yes, oh fuck, oh yes, baby, yes, baby; fuck me, fuck me!" She began to cry out almost involuntarily. Her body was strapped to a rocket that left the atmosphere in seconds, hung there in the transitional bliss of zero gravity for just a single sweet moment, and then exploded in a thick, strong orgasm. Cathy's body contracted and jerked beneath her husband's, but he never let go, never stopped thrusting as she soared through her second orgasm. It was the most purely erotic thing he had ever experienced, and it was the final straw for his own gallant constitution. Sam reared up off of her, his cock slipping out of her warm, tight center. Cathy gasped, looking at her husband towering over her like a Greek statue, flushed and in heat, his hard, proud cock reaching to the sky, slick with her juices. His hand grasped it, his eyes closed. She whispered a sultry "yes" and gasped as the first viscous rocket of his cum launched out of the tip and soared up her body. She felt the hot juice sear her collar bone, and it was only a fraction of a second before she felt the second spurt splash against her chin, stronger than the first. Her breath came hard and fast as she took in the sight of her strong, statuesque husband ejaculating all across her heaving body. Her cunt throbbed. This was nothing like the times her previous boyfriend had done it. That, though still sexy, was more about efficiency. This, well this was the hottest thing she had ever experienced. Sam looked down at the slithering body of his wife as he emptied his tight balls all over his bride. She looked like a dirty, sexy angel. An angel of love. An angel of sex. Thick white splatters of semen painted her from pubic bone to neck; this had to have been the biggest load he had ever shot. He wondered if it was the biggest load she'd ever received. The lovers looked at each other in silence for a moment, each breathing heavy, each taking in the experience they just had. "Was that ok?" Sam finally said. Cathy smiled. He was so adorable; he just fucked the shit out of her and he was still concerned with her own wellbeing. She loved him so much. He was amazing. "Yes, Sam," she said through a chuckle, "it was fucking amazing." Then the thought crossed her mind that she should check in with him as well. This was a new experience for both of them, but even more so for him, and if this new era of communication was going to continue, she needed to make sure it did. "Was it ok for you?" "You nailed it, honey: it was fucking amazing." They both burst out laughing at Sam's rare display of profanity. Sam slipped away for a moment and came back with a warm, wet towel. It felt good on her body as he gently wiped his cum from her skin. Cathy closed her eyes and realized she was having a first of her own. In all the times she had been with other men before Sam, in all the nights that ended with cum splashed on her naked body, she couldn't remember a single time where the man she was with helped with the clean-up, and definitely not as lovingly as Sam did. She had never in their relationship questioned her love and commitment to this man, and as they lie there in each other's arms, drifting off to sleep, she knew there was nothing but excitement and pleasure ahead of them on this new erotic adventure. She had told him what she wanted, she couldn't wait to find out what he wanted. And she had a pretty good idea of where to start. "Oh, fuck, oh, Fuck, yes; fuck me, fuck me!" Pastor Sam McGinnis had two hands full of his wife Cathy's pert ass, using it for leverage as he drove his rock hard cock into her tight, welcoming cunt from behind. For only the second time in over 15 years he was inside his wife bareback, and he didn't know how long he could last. He had missed the feeling of her silky juices sliding over his skin, her slick, tight walls gripping and spreading over the sensitive flesh of his cock, electrifying his body. Not since shortly after their wedding had he felt this sensation, when he got to empty his balls, unencumbered, into his lovely new bride. Cathy was allergic to birth control, so condoms were their only option, an option neither of them really liked, an option that was definitely a contributing factor to their decline in intimacy over the years. A decline that had continued until last night, when Cathy suggested an alternative, one that made Sam's cock harder than it had been in years. His beautiful wife wanted him to fuck her bareback, and then pull out of her at the last moment and shoot his orgasm on her body. It wasn't the activity itself that got Sam so excited, however, it was the fact that it was an activity she had done with at least one other man before she met Sam. He had been a virgin when they got together, but she had not been, and they never really talked about her sexual past. He had no idea how many men she had been with, or what they had done, or even really what she liked done to her. Until last night. Her suggestion; her request; had cracked open a door that Sam desperately wanted to open further. He had had a bit of a kink for hearing stories and experiences, ever since high school when his platonic female friends would spill all the lurid details of their horny experimentations to their non-threatening male friend. Now, he couldn't stop thinking about other men spraying his wife's hot, young body with thick semen, all the places she may have taken it, wanted it. He needed to know more. He needed to know what else she had experienced. What else she wanted. "Oh fuck, baby, that's it; I'm gonna cum, Sam; I'm gonna cum!" Cathy couldn't believe how turned on she was. There was a lot of doubt in her mind last night about whether opening up her sexual past to her husband was a good idea. She had never wanted to rub it in, never wanted him to feel bad about being a virgin when they met. But now, as she lay perched on her hands and knees on their mattress, bracing herself with one hand against the headboard, the thrusting of her husband's cock driving her full speed toward another orgasm, she wondered why she ever waited so long. She realized the peek into her past had revved Sam up greatly, and it was in that moment that she realized she had almost no idea what turned him on; really turned him on. His fantasies, his kinks, his fetishes, this new adventure they were on was meant to be all about communication, and communication was a two way street. Just the thought of learning new things about her husband, of helping him learn new things about himself, made her cunt gush. But what surprised her the most, what she hadn't expected, was how much re-living experiences from her own past turned her on. Cathy had started having her partners pull out and cum on her body purely as a solution to the birth control problem, but what Sam didn't know, and what she wasn't sure she was ready to share just yet, was that it wasn't just a necessity, it was something she liked. Feeling the searing heat of their sticky loads slap her skin, watching their bodies contort in ecstasy, gave her an intense erotic boost. She thought back to Sam's spurting cock the night before. Then further back to Tom. Then further still to Chris. To Lenny. Her body shuddered, her slick walls gripped and pulsed around her husband's thick, driving cock, and Cathy McGinnis, the pastor's wife, exploded in orgasm. Sam felt his wife convulse and let out a long, strong moan. He sucked in breath through clenched teeth as he drove into her. He wanted to steer her all the way through her pleasure, but the sensations around his swollen cock and the erratic, wild moans from his wriggling wife, were all too much. He let out a loud, desperate grunt of his own as he lost control. He slipped his drenched cock out of Cathy's still-spasming center with abandon, gripped, stroked, and lassoed thick white ropes of cum across his wife's back and all over her heart-shaped cheeks. Exhausted, the lovers both took a moment to catch their breath. Sam looked down on his work, at the white slippery streaks racing up his wife's back. He was impressed he could muster such volume after the previous night. She looked so sexy, splattered in his cream. It was something he never even thought to ask for, but was now quickly becoming something he was desperate to witness again. Cathy looked back over her shoulder, shooting him the most devilish smile he'd ever seen. "Umm; good morning, sweetie." she chuckled. His spent cock throbbed in his hand. Cathy's eyes caught the clock on their bedside table and shot wide. "Shit, we gotta get going!" Sam had completely lost track of time. It was Sunday morning, and he had a sermon to deliver. Church was the furthest thing from his mind, however. Cathy bounded up off the bed. Sam's eyes were glued to her as she padded off to the bathroom, a certain pep in her step, fresh semen cascading down her back. He heard the shower turn on. "What a woman," he thought. Watching her husband from the pews, Cathy had a hard time focusing on the sermon he was giving. Her mind was on the activities of the previous evening, and the activities of the morning. She wondered if it was wrong, sitting there in church day dreaming about fucking her husband, being fucked by him, about his hot cum spurting out all over her, but every time she caught his eye and saw him try to suppress a smirk she knew he was thinking the same thing. She was trying to keep her thoughts more Godly, but they just seemed to get dirtier. She thought about being up there with him tucked down behind the pulpit on her knees, taking him into her mouth while he evangelized, listening to his loud hallelujah when he finally filled her mouth with his cum. She shook it off; thinking about doing naughty things to her husband was one thing, but feeling herself get moist under the eyes of the lord made her feel a little strange. It would just have to wait till later. After the service, as the congregation mingled, Cathy made a B-line to Sandy. Sandy had been the one to give her the suggestion of opening up more with Sam, and she needed to tell her all about it. "Sandy!" she almost yelled, touching her on the shoulder. "Hey Cath, what's up?" Sandy was chatting with her husband Don and their best friend Kelly. "I just wanted to um, thank you, for the advice you gave me yesterday. It was, very productive." After a slight pause to try and remember what advice she gave, Sandy's eyes lit up, followed by a sly smile. "Oh! Of course; come with me, and tell me all about it!" Sandy excused herself from her husband and friend with a wink, and slipped away with Cathy. Don and Kelly looked at each other and smirked knowingly at each other. What Cathy didn't know is that Sandy had told them both all about the conversation they had had at the pool party. The three of them had met at Sandy and Don's for drinks that evening after the party. Their daughter Steph was out for the evening, as were Kelly's daughter Alex and her stepson Tim. They got to talking about the party, and about the new youth pastor Ginny. The girls agreed she was quite a hottie, and could tell by the way Don shifted around in his pants that he agreed as well. This led Sandy to recount her talk with Cathy, and got the three of them speculating on the love life of their pastor and his wife. Don's pants began to grow tighter, and the girls began to tease him, making their idle speculations naughtier and naughtier, until the teasing stopped, and the two women gleefully found themselves on the floor, between Don's legs, taking turns sucking his cock. This was not the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. Unbeknownst to anyone in their church, these three had been regularly enjoying each other physically for years. Their fellow parishioners would surely be shocked to find out what these three had done with each other, and others. Cathay would be shocked as well if she knew discussion of her conversation with Sandy led to Don taking turns fucking the two friends, to Don throwing his cock repeatedly into Kelly's cunt while she slurped his wife's cunt, and ultimately to the two women giggling and cheering as Don's cum exuberantly spurted out all over them both. "So tell me all about it!" Sandy said, pulling Cathy into a secluded corner of the church. "Well, I,” she paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. She and Sandy were friends, but they'd never shared intimate details before. In fact Cathy hadn't shared intimate details of her love life with Sam to anyone ever. Girl talk about her sex life was something that she used to enjoy, but it seemingly died with her marriage to Sam. It was fun telling her best friend about whose dick she sucked in which backseat when she was younger, but sharing secrets about her marriage seemed wrong. But this wasn't just secrets and gossip, this was advice, wasn't it? Cathy remembered scrunching up her nose at Michelle Gillis when she explained the benefits of swallowing at the end of a blow job, and the satisfaction Cathy felt when she finally did it and realized Sherri was right. It had opened up a whole new door for her, one she soon discovered she really turned her on. It had actively made her love life better. She loved swallowing. She loved swallowing for Sam. She hadn't done it in years; she wanted to swallow for him right then and there. "Well, I'm allergic to birth control," she began again, "and we both hate condoms. After the party last night we were getting frisky and,” "Yes?" Sandy said, excited for what was to come next. "And I thought back to what I used to do before I met Sam. With, previous boyfriends." "Oh, really, what was it?" "Once I was comfortable with him we'd stop using condoms and he,” Cathy paused again, presented with a threshold of detail she had to choose how to cross. She decided to just go for it. “ he'd pull out and finish himself on my body." "Oh, nice!" Sandy exclaimed. "And that's something you used to like?" "Sandy, I used to love it." Cathy said forcefully. "Something about the power, the angle, the feeling," she could feel herself getting turned on just thinking about it. "Is that bad?" "Girl, trust me, I have had cum on every inch of my body, and loved it every time. No shame!" They both laughed at Sandy's graphic confession. Cathy blushed slightly, not only at the intimate sharing, but at the sudden image that flashed through her mind. An image of Don fucking Sandy hard, pulling out, and stroking thick spurts of white jizz all over her body. He was hot, she was hot; it was quite the image. "So that's what you did last night?" Sandy pushed on "And this morning," Cathy said with another embarrassed smile. "Hell yeah! And he liked it too?" "If volume and enthusiasm is any indication, yes he loved it." She said, both of them laughing. "That's excellent, Cathy, I'm so happy for you!" Sandy smiled and gave her a big hug. She couldn't wait to tell Don when they got home. The thought of their church leader spraying his lovely wife with his naughty nut was turning her on. She hoped Don would help her reenact it later that evening. "So how're you going to keep it going?" "I don't know, I feel like there are so many options; so many things we've never done together, I had been so nervous to talk about my past with him, but he seemed to be totally into it. I'm not sure where to go next." "Well that's easy," Sandy replied, "you ask him!" "Ask him what?" "Ask him what he likes! You told him what you like, time for him to do the same." "But he doesn't have much of a past," Cathy opined, "he was a virgin on our wedding night." "Sweetie," Sandy said, lowering her eyelids and cocking an eyebrow, "it doesn't matter what they say; everyone has a kink. Everyone has desires. Everyone has a past. It's just a matter of you coaxing it out of him." Cathy smiled, thanked her again, gave her a big hug, and they parted ways. Wandering idly through the foyer of the church, she thought about Sandy's words. It was true Sam was a virgin, but any discussion of sexual exploration ended with that. Surely he had some stories to tell, some secrets to reveal, just as she did. She felt a tingle in her belly at the possibility of discovering them. Looking into the sanctuary she saw Sam chatting with the new youth pastor Ginny. It was her first day at the church, and even now, dressed much more modest than she was at the pool party the previous day, she exuded a certain glow. She sure was a pretty girl, Cathy though. It was obvious Sam seemed to think so too. He was giggling like a teen boy with a crush. Cathy wasn't mad; she had no reason to ever think Sam would do anything inappropriate; but she was curious. Maybe this was something she would have to ask him about. "Oh yes, oh yes, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Cathy was sweating. Her face was scrunched up in that lusty grimace that precedes ultimate pleasure, her body tense and wild as she rode Sam's face to orgasm. It was Wednesday, and after their new, exciting experiences the previous weekend, there was no lax coasting through date night; on the contrary, neither of them could wait for the day to roll around. They were both antsy through Monday and Tuesday, and for the first time in years found themselves flirting with each other. Quick comments, a pinch here or there, a grab when no one was looking, it was a shock they even made it to Wednesday, and they probably wouldn't have if their schedules had been lighter, or their daughter Christine had been less under foot. But Wednesday rolled around soon enough, Christine was out for the evening at the weekly youth group meeting, and the two excited lovers tumbled into their bedroom in a tornado of arms, lips, and tongues. "Oh my God" Cathy exclaimed in a long, warbling tone. She grabbed Sam's hair tight, felt her thighs flex around his head, and in an instant her body was awash with the explosive pleasure of orgasm. Her mouth hung open, body wracked with sensation, and the corner of her lips pulled into a wild smile. Being still lost in the heady space of cumming, Cathy couldn't see it, but beneath her dripping, still spasming cunt lips Sam was smiling too. Sam loved pleasuring his wife, and was happy she had opened up with him in a way that would allow him to do it more effectively. It was also plain to see that it wasn't just efficiency that he liked, as evident by his hard, straining cock. But it wasn't just the act that turned him on, it was the history she had with it. A history he was interested to learn more about. "Oh my God, that was amazing," Cathy cooed as she settled her head into the crook of Sam's neck, draping her arm across his chest, "you sir are very good at that." She kissed him. She could taste herself. She always liked the taste; it made her feel extra dirty. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted herself on a man's lips. "I'm a fast learner," he said with a chuckle. He ran his hand over Cathy's ass as she tucked herself tight against him. "Apparently." "And what about you?" He began nervously. He wasn't sure about what he was about to ask, but the surge of blood to his cock told him to press on, "were you a fast learner, the first time you did that?" Cathy paused before she answered. This was going to be a full step over the threshold of their sexual pasts. Were they ready? She looked down at his proud cock standing straight and hard, even with no stimulation. "Yes," she said in a syrupy tone. Sam's cock twitched. She smiled. "When was it?" Sam continued, "the first time you did that?" "College," she said, idly scratching his chest hair. "Do you wanna tell me about it?" He was putting the ball in her court, or attempting to, but she wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Do you want me to?" It was a question dripping with possibility. "Yes," Sam said quietly. "Ok," she said, equally soft. She looked down at his cock, straining and hard, and watched it twitch again. Her hand began to slowly drift down his torso. "Can I touch you while I do it?" "Yes," Sam choked out. "My senior year of college I was, seeing this guy. Tom." "A boyfriend?" "Not quite. It was, I realize now it was all the fun parts of a relationship, but none of the commitment. I didn't realize that at the time." her hand lazily circled his bellybutton as she reminisced. She was going to make him work for it. "From school?" "No, he was, older." She saw Sam's cock twitch again. "How much older?" "A lot." Her hand inched lower, grazing through his pubic hair. "I had the apartment to myself one night, and Tom came over and we started fooling around." Her fingers began to dance across the skin of Sam's cock. "He used to love licking me,” she paused as she decided once again how much truth to inject into the story. She chose all of it. “because his wife never let him do it to her." "His wife?" Sam exclaimed, his rigid member bouncing right into the palm of Cathy's hand. "Um hmm." she cooed as she slowly started to stroke. "He told me they were divorced, but, I found out later that wasn't exactly true." Sam let out a long exhale through flared nostrils. He couldn't believe how hot this story was making him already. The thought of his good, Christian wife fucking an older married man, one who used to lick her cunt, caused his whole body to buzz. Cathy stroked him slowly, then at once felt a slickness beneath her thumb; his tip was leaking a river of slippery precum. Sam was enjoying this. A lot. She smiled and continued her tale. "So Tom had his head between my legs, eating my cunt," she chose the more vulgar word on purpose, and felt a receptive pulse in her palm. "Was he good?" Sam gasped, cutting her off. "He was amazing." she said with a smirk. Sam stifled a groan. She continued to touch him, to stroke him, as she talked. "He was eating my cunt, his hands running all over my body, really making me feel incredible, when all of a sudden he grabs my hips and rolls us both over so now I'm straddling him. I would have crushed his head if I hadn't sat up, so a push myself up, knees on either side of his head, and all at once there I am, riding his face." Sam moaned again and she felt him throb. She decided to back off the stroking for a minute and began cupping and rolling his plump balls in her hand. Tom used to love it when she did that. "At first he's licking me, torturing my clit, hitting it like a joy buzzer, and I'm just along for the ride, but then,” she paused as the memory came flooding back and she felt the slickness between her legs become more pronounced. “then he just kept his tongue still. I was confused for a second, but then I felt both his hands grip my ass and start pulling forward; he was telling me what he wanted. And so I started rocking my hips, grinding my clit against his still tongue; I was fucking his face." She decided to give him a little tease after this reveal, "Just like he had done to me many, many times." "Ugh." Sam groaned loudly at this last confession. Images of this older man holding his wife's young face in his hands while he pushed himself in and out of her mouth started a roiling boil inside his loins. "Then what?" "Well, I found myself a rhythm I liked, an angle I liked, and I just fucked him. I was in control for the first time ever, and it was exhilarating. I was gripping his hair, gripping at the headboard, anything I could find to grab onto, because it took me barely a minute to get right up to the edge." Cathy looked at Sam's dripping cock and smiled fondly as another memory came to the forefront of her mind. "But what put me over the edge, was when I looked behind me and saw that Tom's cock was rock-hard. And that's when my body exploded, and holding his head in place with each of my hands, I came all over Tom's mouth for the first time." "Did you love it?" Sam barely managed to verbalize. "It was like nothing I had ever experienced. I was glowing for days." Cathy cupped his balls while running her thumb up and down the underside of his cock, now slick with precum. She couldn't believe how much this was turning him on; how much it was turning her on. "You wanna know what happened next?" "God, yes," He gasped. "I was still in a daze from my orgasm. I barely even knew where I was. He rolled me off him, onto my back, still breathing heavily, spread my legs, hoisted me up onto his thighs and pushed his whole cock into me with one thrust." Sam's deep groan was all she needed as encouragement at this point. "And then he fucked me, long, deep, and good. The sensations were so overwhelming I was buzzing, and I started to cum again. And just when I was at the height of it, Tom slipped his cock out of me and burst his hot jizz all over my wriggling body. I could taste it on my lips." The image of his wife, mid-orgasm, slathered with the juice of another man was all he could take. In a flash, Sam had rolled Cathy over onto her back, swung her legs open, and in almost an exact recreation of her story, pushed his desperate cock deep into her cunt. He gripped her body tight and thrust hard, thrust wildly, sending his cock deep into her body over and over. Cries of encouragement echoed in his ears, the hot spring of pleasure coiling tight in his loins. Cathy was right there with him, speeding toward the cliff of release as her slick body gripped and grasped at her husband's driving cock. Rhythmic chants of "Yes, yes!" lept from her throat, and just as she reached her climax and her body began to tumble and spasm, Sam joined her over the edge, pulling out, leaning in, and peppering her heaving breasts and gasping stomach with thick ropes of hot cum. Sam looked down at his handiwork splattered across his wife's heaving diaphragm. Then they both collapsed to the bed in a heap of slick, gasping flesh. "Good God," Sam choked out. "You can say that again," Cathy concurred. They looked at each other and broke out laughing, then Sam leaned in and kissed her deep and hard. Their laughter never stopped. To be continued in part 3. By Liminally Spaced for Literotica.

Featuring: Michael "Boston" Hannon, Paul “Moonpir” Smith, and Alexander “TheNimp” Jolly Running Time: 1:47:06 Music by MusiM: Homepage | Bandcamp Livestream Archive: YouTube This week on That Video Game Podcast (TVGP) we chat about Deep Rock Galactic Survivor, Helldivers 2, The First Berserker: Khazan, Ghost of Yotei, Hollow Knight: Silksong, Final Fantasy Tactics: The Ivalice Chronicles. EA to be acquired Game Pass tiers change, prices increase Become a patron of TVGP for just a few dollars a month at E1M1's Patreon Page! Get two month early access to Critical Misses, uncensored outtakes, and much more for just $5/month!

This episode features a full length Bible study taught by Pastor Jack Abeelen of Morningstar Christian Chapel in Whittier, California.If today you prayed with Pastor Jack to receive the Lord, we'd love to hear about it and get you started on the right foot. Visit us online at: https://morningstarcc.org/born-again/To see more of Pastor Jack's Bible studies, visit our Morningstar Christian Chapel channel at https://www.youtube.com/@morningstarcc.To subscribe to our Podcast newsletter go to http://eepurl.com/iGzsP6.If you would like to support our electronic ministry, you may do so by going to our donations page at https://morningstarcc.churchcenter.com/giving/to/podcast.Visit our church website at https://morningstarcc.org.

Angela Buchdahl, renowned senior rabbi of Central Synagogue in New York City, speaks openly about empathy, Israel, and the “most painful experience” of her rabbinic career.

Are your kids' fights setting off your emotions—and the whole house?Most parents try to “fix” kids' behavior to feel better. In this video, Greg & Rachel flip the script: change your emotional state first, and your family dynamics follow. You'll learn how to stop masking (“trying to stay calm”) and start being emotionally authentic—so you model regulation your kids can actually imitate.We unpack practical tools to raise your family's emotional thermostat—even on low-sleep, low-food days: breathing exercises, light movement, gratitude micro-meditations, future journaling, and morning routines that shift your biochemistry fast. You'll discover why sleep and nutrition are foundational, how to process triggers and “memorized emotions,” and how to radiate steadiness kids naturally copy.Big idea: Nothing gets better until you do. When you upgrade your inner state, parenting gets easier, marriage gets warmer, and home feels safe again. This is how you cultivate a family culture of peace, courage, and joy—without pretending or suppressing.Try this today (1-minute reset): Stand tall, inhale 4, hold 4, exhale 6 (x6 rounds). Add one gratitude sentence and smile on purpose. Notice the shift—then go connect.Key Takeaways✅ Nothing gets better until you do — when you raise your state, your family follows.✅ Kids imitate without regulation — they copy your energy, good or bad.✅ Trying to “stay calm” is masking — practice authentic emotional expression.✅ Sleep & food drive mood — protect your physiology to parent better.✅ Quick resets work — breathing, movement, posture, and gratitude change your state fast.✅ Every family has an emotional thermostat — set yours higher on purpose.✅ Mentor, don't micromanage — see misbehavior as a cry for help and coach skills.Memorable Quote:

On this FINAL episode of Radioactive Rant, Mark and Tom thank all their loyal listeners for sticking with them through over 200 episodes. Their new podcast, “Screenplay to Novel” will be available on all podcast platforms, so please check it out. But, on this last episode of Radioactive Rant, Jimmy Kimmel gets called out for sobbing on TV… again. Quite a few Democrats continue to name-call, even though that type of rhetoric seems to incite violence. Check out Podcast Rant where Mark and Tom scrutinize podcasts that are somehow popular. Also, try to guess the voices of celebrities listeners can't stand on Celebrity Rant—and hear all about the things listeners are fed up with on Listener Rant.Thanks again for listening to Radioactive Rant!Email: rantpodcast@usa.com

Jimmy Kimmel returned to air with an emotional monologue addressing backlash over his comments linking a murder suspect to MAGA, but critics argue his speech was more like a tearful “non-apology” filled with contradictions. He claimed he never intended to make light of the killing or blame any group, yet past clips showed him doing exactly that.  Jimmy and Americans' Comedian Kurt Metzger highlight Kimmel's history of supporting censorship against others while now presenting himself as a free-speech defender. They discuss Kimmel's hypocrisy, pointing to past jokes about denying medical care to the unvaccinated and his refusal to take political risks such as saying “Free Palestine.” Plus segments on the joke that got Tim Dillon DISINVITED from the upcoming Saudi comedy festival, a viral video demonstrating that Charlie Kirk was shot from behind and Trump's insistence with no supporting evidence that the boats the US military is blowing out of the water are all drug trafficking vessels. Also featuring James Li and Stef Zamorano!

Angela Buchdahl, renowned senior rabbi of Central Synagogue in New York City, speaks openly about empathy, Israel, and the “most painful experience” of her rabbinic career.

PICK EM - WEEK 5 | Rico Bosco gets pushed to the verge of tears, Jackie Tables returns from his trip to Germany, Dave Portnoy, Big Cat and Rico go over the College Football week 5 matchups, and more. PRESENTED BY DRAFTKINGS: Download the DraftKings Sportsbook app and use code PICK. That's code PICK for new customers to get $200 in bonus bets instantly when you bet just five bucks. In Partnership with DraftKings Sportsbook - The Crown Is Yours. GAMBLING PROBLEM? CALL 1-800-GAMBLER, (800) 327-5050 or visit gamblinghelplinema.org (MA). Call 877-8-HOPENY/text HOPENY (467369) (NY). Please Gamble Responsibly. 888-789-7777/visit ccpg.org (CT), or visit www.mdgamblinghelp.org (MD). 21+ and present in most states. (18+ DC/KY/NH/WY). Void in ONT/OR/NH. Eligibility restrictions apply. On behalf of Boot Hill Casino & Resort (KS). Fees may apply in IL. 1 per new customer. $5+ first-time bet req. Max. $200 issued as non-withdrawable Bonus Bets that expire in 7 days (168 hours). Stake removed from payout. Terms: sportsbook.draftkings.com/promos. Ends 9/29/25 at 11:59 PM ET. Sponsored by DK. GAMETIME: Download the Gametime app today and use code PICKEM for $20 off your first purchase RO.CO: Connect with a provider at RO.co/PICK to find out if prescription Ro Sparks are right for you and get $15 off your first order HEYDUDE: Go to heydude.com/barstool and use code: PICKEM20 to get 20% off the HEYDUDE Barstool collectionYou can find every episode of this show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or YouTube. Prime Members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. For more, visit barstool.link/barstoolpickem

Judge crushes his 50th as the Yanks surge, while the Mets sink with no pitching and Dan in Carteret cries steroids on Raleigh. Dart locks in for the Chargers, Boomer's pilgrim Moment of the Day, and Gio takes on the bobblehead guy in golf.

Tim, Sarah and JVL are BACK! Trump's allies want to charge protesters with RICO, Kash Patel stonewalls, Trump plays the victim, and MAGA world spins truly nuts new conspiracy theories about Charlie Kirk's assassination. Get 50% off your first month with Green Chef at https://GreenChef.com/50NEXTLEVEL Get 30% off your order with Soul at https://GetSoul.com and use the code THENEXTLEVEL. For our friends in Canada, we added a second live show with Sarah, Tim and Sam to the schedule. Tickets are on sale now for our bonus Bulwark Live Q&A Matinee show on Saturday, September 27, here: https://admitone.com/events/the-bulwark-podcast-toronto-10155121

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit www.thebulwark.comTim, Sarah and JVL are BACK! Trump's allies want to charge protesters with RICO, Kash Patel stonewalls, Trump plays the victim, and MAGA world spins new truly nutty conspiracy theories about Charlie Kirk's assassination. For our friends in Canada, we added a second live show with Sarah, Tim and Sam to the schedule. Tickets are on sale now for our bonus Bulwark in Toronto: Live Q&A Matinee show on Saturday, September 27, here.Watch, listen, and leave a comment. This ad-free video version of The Next Level is exclusively for Bulwark+ members. You can find The Next Level wherever you get your podcasts and on YouTube. Add The Next Level to your podcast player of choice, here.

Black Woman Cries on TikTok after Pastor Prays for Charlie Kirk during Church Mass

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! From childhood, Kitty Janusz knew her world was different. While others played outside or whispered secrets in the dark, she was speaking with voices that no one else could hear. Spirits appeared before her with unsettling clarity—voices of the talking dead, reaching out from a place most people try to ignore. For Kitty, this wasn't a haunting hobby or a fleeting childhood imagination. It was reality. As the years passed, her encounters only grew stronger. Ghosts would whisper, shadows would linger, and unexplainable sounds etched themselves into her memory. For most, these moments might spark fear, but for Kitty, they were a calling. She realized the whispers and voices she picked up—sometimes even caught as EVPs—were not just random noise. They were cries for help. Spirits lost between worlds, desperately reaching out for someone who could hear them. Someone who could guide them. Kitty's journey became one of understanding and responsibility. She discovered that her gift wasn't just to witness the paranormal but to help souls cross over, to bring messages from the dead to the living, and to offer comfort where there was confusion. Each spirit, each EVP, carried a story unfinished—a life cut short or tethered by regret. And Kitty, unlike most, could help them find peace. Are these voices simply echoes of the past, or undeniable proof that the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than we think? This is Part Two of our conversation. #GhostStories #ParanormalPodcast #HauntedVoices #SpiritCommunication #TalkingDead #HauntedChildhood #MediumLife #RealEVPs #HelpingSpirits #TheGraveTalks Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! From childhood, Kitty Janusz knew her world was different. While others played outside or whispered secrets in the dark, she was speaking with voices that no one else could hear. Spirits appeared before her with unsettling clarity—voices of the talking dead, reaching out from a place most people try to ignore. For Kitty, this wasn't a haunting hobby or a fleeting childhood imagination. It was reality. As the years passed, her encounters only grew stronger. Ghosts would whisper, shadows would linger, and unexplainable sounds etched themselves into her memory. For most, these moments might spark fear, but for Kitty, they were a calling. She realized the whispers and voices she picked up—sometimes even caught as EVPs—were not just random noise. They were cries for help. Spirits lost between worlds, desperately reaching out for someone who could hear them. Someone who could guide them. Kitty's journey became one of understanding and responsibility. She discovered that her gift wasn't just to witness the paranormal but to help souls cross over, to bring messages from the dead to the living, and to offer comfort where there was confusion. Each spirit, each EVP, carried a story unfinished—a life cut short or tethered by regret. And Kitty, unlike most, could help them find peace. Are these voices simply echoes of the past, or undeniable proof that the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than we think? #GhostStories #ParanormalPodcast #HauntedVoices #SpiritCommunication #TalkingDead #HauntedChildhood #MediumLife #RealEVPs #HelpingSpirits #TheGraveTalks Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

South Park went after Charlie Kirk, Kristie Noem and JD Vance in their latest episode. Vox has published a “thought piece” on Sydney Sweeney that seems to be devoid of all thought. The Covid student loan moratorium is gone and now people are realizing that their loans are due. It's been five years. What have you been doing?GUEST: Josh FirestineLink to today's sources: https://www.louderwithcrowder.com/sources-august-7-2025 Buy the OG Mug Club Mug on Crowder Shop now! https://crowdershop.com/products/og-mug-club-mugSave 50% off your first month go to http://puretalk.com/CROWDERDOWNLOAD THE RUMBLE APP TODAY: https://rumble.com/our-appsJoin Rumble Premium to watch this show every day! http://louderwithcrowder.com/PremiumGet your favorite LWC gear: https://crowdershop.com/Bite-Sized Content: https://rumble.com/c/CrowderBitsSubscribe to my podcast: https://rss.com/podcasts/louder-with-crowder/FOLLOW ME: Website: https://louderwithcrowder.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/scrowder Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/louderwithcrowder Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stevencrowderofficialMusic by @Pogo