Podcasts about fuckers

Si alguien me hubiera dicho que en tres episodios Ellen McKenzie iba a coleccionar más prometidos que Taylor Swift exnovios, me lo habría creído… pero no tan rápido. Nuestra Mérida particular sigue repartiendo corazones y alianzas como si fueran flyers en la puerta de una discoteca. En este capítulo la cosa va de clanes en guerra, flashbacks con daddy issues y hermanos peleando por quién se queda la silla grande del poder. Entre Patapalo, el Fucker y tanto “Mc” que parece la carta entera del McDonald's, lo cierto es que Ellen es la única con dos dedos de frente. Se monta su plan maquiavélico para que los hermanos trabajen juntos, y ¡bingo! coronación con pacto de sangre incluido. Problema del clan, solucionado. Problema de matrimonio concertado… ejem, todavía en espera. Mientras tanto, en las tramas paralelas: El soldadito de plomo se marca un crush tan empalagoso que hasta su confidente le pide aumento por soportar semejante azúcar. Y la viejoven Sassenach, entre camas inspeccionadas, criadas chismosas y planes de aborto, acaba tirándose a Lord Lovat para colar al hijo como suyo. Porque en Outlander, sin sexo incómodo, no hay episodio. En resumen: política tribal, flashbacks cutres, sexo obligatorio y mucho salseo de alcoba. Sangre de mi sangre sigue siendo lo que prometió: puro Outlander con más Mc's que la Golden Arches.

We post SLITS ONLY for our subscribers only, it's an extra little mini Viral Podcast posted every Friday! Be sure to sub to Chelsie's Patreon  https://patreon.com/chelcielynn?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=creatorshare_fan&utm_content=join_link And... Paige's OF https://linktr.ee/Paigeginn?utm_source=linktree_profile_share%3Csid=f8356714-92c6-4d6c-9709-6c54c26aac52

We've got news, we've got small talk, Jenny's gonna quit, Jess is horny on main, Kevin somehow knows who Chakotay is, and we fancast Star Trek characters in The Wheel of Time. You're welcome.

Clockin it with V-Rose

Dopo oltre un decennio di silenzio, i Fuck You Fuckin' Fuckers tornano sulla scena punk hardcore dal Poetto di Cagliari, portando in musica il bisogno di essere sé stessi. Dall'Inghilterra fino alla spiaggia del Poetto di Cagliari, Marco Concas torna con i suoi Fuck You Fuckin' Fuckers (FFF) per rimettere in moto una macchina musicale che non ha mai davvero spento il motore. Dopo dieci anni di apparente silenzio, la band punk hardcore cagliaritana risale sul palco del Beach Day Out Vol. 19 con un messaggio chiaro: non smettere di essere te stesso. Intervistato da Unica Radio, Marco racconta la scelta di tornare a suonare nella propria terra, tra le onde del mare e l'energia di una scena underground che – sebbene spesso ignorata – continua a pulsare sotto pelle. Il ritorno dei FFF non è solo una questione musicale, ma una scelta di presenza e resistenza culturale. “La realtà è cambiata, ma abbiamo ancora qualcosa da dire”, confessa Marco. Ed è proprio questo bisogno di espressione autentica, slegata dalle mode e dai diktat sociali, che ha riportato la band a fare rumore. “Apichu”, il nuovo singolo, è l'esempio perfetto: un grido diretto, feroce, sincero. Tra Sardegna e Londra, il punk sopravvive e si evolve grazie al dialogo e alla contaminazione Concas vive a Londra da molti anni e conosce bene la differenza tra le due scene: se in Inghilterra il punk si è ritirato in una nicchia resistente, in Sardegna si respira ancora un'energia collettiva viva, giovane, ibrida. “Non sono solo punk a seguirci: anche chi ascolta drum'n'bass o rap entra in connessione con il nostro messaggio. La musica è un mezzo per esprimere opinioni, ed è bello vedere che questa esigenza non ha confini”. L'impatto sul pubblico è stato immediato, grazie anche alla voglia della band di mescolare vecchi suoni e nuove influenze, mantenendo però intatta la potenza del messaggio. “Il nuovo EP avrà cinque o sei tracce, tutte legate da un filo comune: l'invito a non omologarsi, a essere veri, a non vivere per compiacere gli altri. È un discorso di libertà e autodeterminazione”. Il beach day out come specchio dell'identità culturale punk e motore della scena sarda La partecipazione al Beach Day Out – per la terza volta – segna una sorta di rinascita collettiva. Marco ringrazia i Cool Kids, Stage Type Production e il collettivo Tuogo H.C. per il lavoro dietro le quinte, sottolineando quanto sia fondamentale un evento che unisce: “Il festival porta il nome di Cagliari anche fuori dalla Sardegna. È un'occasione per dire al mondo che qui c'è una scena viva, forte, indipendente”. E a chi chiede se questa sia solo una parentesi isolata, Marco lascia aperta la porta: “Abbiamo progetti in corso. Probabilmente è un ritorno definitivo”. Il 19 luglio al Poetto non sarà solo un concerto, ma un'esplosione di senso e presenza. I Fuck You Fucking Fuckers sono tornati, e hanno qualcosa da dirti. Forte.

Evelyn's Dark Labyrinth Task.In 13 parts, By BradentonLarry - Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The maze at the Manor had been bright and green, with nice right angles and a geometric design that was pleasing to the eye. This was dark, grey, and anything but pleasant."Scary, isn't it?"Instinctively dropping into a crouch and raising her staff defensively, Evelyn looked around for the speaker. It had sounded close and came from her right, over by the dead tree. She noticed that there was a grey bird with a reddish-brown head and white throat looking at her calmly. She thought it looked like a small hawk."Did you say that?" she asked the bird skeptically."I did," the bird gave a little nod."A talking hawk," Evelyn chuckled. "I shouldn't be surprised, I guess.""Excuse me, miss, I am not a hawk," the bird stretched its wings and puffed out its chest a bit. "I am a red-necked falcon."Lowering her staff, Evelyn smiled and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Ornithology is not really my specialty.""I forgive you," the bird said.Evelyn decided she should just roll with the situation and said, "You were saying something about the maze?""Yes," the falcon nodded a bit. "It's rather scary, isn't it?""Is it actually dangerous, though?""Naw, I fly over it all the time.""I'm afraid I don't have that option.""Oh, well, yes, I suppose you don't," the falcon said. "Does that mean you are actually going to go into it."Evelyn frowned, then said, "Well, is that the Dark Labyrinth?""I believe so. I have heard it called that, anyway.""Then I have to go into it. I need to reach the center of it.""Whatever for?""It's my quest," Evelyn smirked, mostly just to herself."Oh, well, I guess that makes sense, then. Annoying things, quests.""You're not wrong," she smiled.Just then a loud voice called out from above them, "Horace! What are you doing down there?"Looking up, Evelyn saw another falcon circling them in the grey sky."I'm just being friendly," the falcon in the tree, who Evelyn now supposed must be named Horace, called back."Leave that poor girl alone," the falcon in the air called down."We're just talking, honey," Horace shouted. Then, addressing Evelyn in a normal, quieter voice, he said, "Sorry about that. The missus gets a bit jealous sometimes."Evelyn smiled and said, "That's alright, I should be on my way anyway.""Be careful," Horace nodded."I'll do my best. Any advice?""Don't get distracted," he said. "There are things in there that will try to trap you, or at least get you very lost." Then, as he flapped into the air, he added, "Oh, and don't let the Beast catch you!""What? The 'Beast'?!" Evelyn called after him, but he was already too far away to hear, or at least to reply.With a serious scowl and her staff at the ready, Evelyn started down into the labyrinth, entering it near the closest end of the valley, but quite high up the slope.For the rest of that first day, Evelyn worked her way through the maze slowly and carefully. She decided it would be a good idea to follow the left wall, just to help keep track of where she'd been. She wished she'd managed to bring along some chalk.Before it started to get too dark, she found a section of wall that had collapsed, forming a little cave she managed to crawl into without scraping herself up too badly. She felt far from secure, but she thought it was the best shelter she was likely to find before night fell. Stumbling around that maze in the dark seemed a sure recipe for disaster. Before she was able to drift off into a restless sleep, she gave herself a quiet orgasm, clutching her staff to her as she shuddered in the rubble.Early the next day, Evelyn found some blueberries growing down the side of a wall and drank the water that gathered on the leaves from the misty air. She was starting to think it could take a very long time for her to reach the center of this damned thing. She was trying to use the trick Don had taught her to use in navigating the Manor, but she couldn't tell if it was helping at all.Toward midday, when she was thinking about taking a break anyway, Evelyn came to the first opening in the labyrinth. Like the rest of the maze, this clearing was in a state of serious disrepair, but there was an apple tree surviving and bearing fruit in the corner, and a large pool taking up most of the center of the space. Jumping up and swinging her staff, Evelyn was able to knock down a couple of apples. Biting into one, she found it surprisingly tart for Erosian fruit, but it was still delicious.As she ate her lunch, Evelyn strolled over to the pool of water. It looked too still to be safe to drink, but she might be able to use it to clean up a bit. Looking at her reflection, she saw that she was indeed quite disheveled and dirty. She tossed the core of her apple off to the side, dropped to her knees and set her staff down next to her as she cupped her hands to splash some water on her face. After a bit of rubbing and splashing, and running her fingers through her hair, she waited for the water to calm to see if she was actually helping her situation.Looking down to her reflection, she was surprised to see another face looking up at her. Bright emerald eyes regarded her from beneath the water, and then as she scrambled backward a pale woman with blonde hair broke the surface and said, "Well, hello there." She had a vaguely Scandinavian accent and a sweet, sexy smile."Ah, hello," Evelyn responded."Sorry if I startled you," the girl in the water said. "You're just so pretty, I had to come say 'hi.'"Not knowing what else to say, Evelyn smiled and said, "Well, thank you.""I'm Trielle," the woman said as she extended her hand, leaning on the bank of the pool, her porcelain breasts brushing the grass."Uh, Sage," Evelyn said as she shook hands. "Nice to meet you, Trielle."Trielle continued to hold Evelyn's hand, her clasp becoming a caress, and purred, "It's been a long time since we've had a visitor here. I'd love a chance to get to know you better."The smile on Trielle's lips and the glimmer in her eyes as she said this left very little doubt as to what sort of getting-to-know she had in mind.Evelyn swallowed, and said, "Well, that certainly does sound nice."Trielle's green eyes were certainly inviting, and Evelyn found herself moving closer, until she was leaning down to kiss the girl's cool, moist lips. Trielle's slender fingers moved up to gently brush the sides of Evelyn's face and then held her there lightly as her tongue slipped into Evelyn's mouth. The feeling of the girl's tongue on hers as well as the soft pressure of their lips together was intoxicating, and Evelyn felt herself leaning forward to indulge herself more deeply in the kiss.Suddenly remembering herself, Evelyn pulled back, regaining her balance on the grass. Trielle smiled back at her. If she was offended by the abrupt withdrawal there was no indication."You're a good kisser," the woman smiled, "and you taste so good."Evelyn found herself blushing a little and said, "Thank you, so do you.""Would you let me taste you down there?" Trielle asked with a wink."Down there?" Evelyn found herself suddenly a bit confused."Uh-hum," Trielle nodded, biting her lower lip a bit. "You can just sit here on the edge."Evelyn caught on and said, "Oh! Well, I guess it would be rude of me to say 'no.'""It certainly would," nodded Trielle emphatically. Then she pushed back from the shore to let Evelyn rearrange herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the pool with her legs in the water.Smiling up at Evelyn, Trielle moved smoothly through the water between Evelyn's legs.Evelyn shuddered a little in anticipation as Trielle's cool, light fingers moved up her legs. Then she sighed when Trielle's lips brushed over her labia, which were already quite moist and very ready for some affection. Soon, Evelyn was leaning back on one arm while she held Trielle's blonde head in place while the girl in the pool licked and sucked at Evelyn's clit. It didn't take long before Evelyn's orgasm wracked her body with intense, fiery delight, muscles clenching and heart pounding.Slowing her ministrations until Evelyn could regain her breath, Trielle kept her mouth on Evelyn's sex, and then, when Evelyn was ready for more, she began to tongue her clit again, slowly but firmly. Even quicker than the first time, Evelyn's body responded to the woman's cunnilingual skills. Crying out and arching her back there on the bank of the pool, Evelyn came and came, shuddering intensely until she collapsed, spent.As Evelyn lay on her back, looking up at the leaden clouds, heart pounding in her chest, she said, "Thank you! I really needed that.""It was my pleasure, Sage," the woman in the water said."Can you come up here so I can return the favor?""Oh, no, I don't think I can do that, but you could come in here and play with us.""Us?" Evelyn asked, and then hauled herself up to see that she and Trielle were no longer alone. Four other people were there in the water. Three of them were handsome men, two of whom were lounging back against the far shore of the pool, muscular arms resting on the ground and broad chests on tempting display. The third man was closer, leaning on the ground, his chin propped on his palm, watching Evelyn with a playful smile on his lips. The new woman was slowly bobbing in the middle of the pool, just her head above water. All of them were staggeringly attractive."Oh," Evelyn said, drawing back a bit. "Hello there.""Come on in, Sage, and we'll have a wonderful time," Trielle smiled.Evelyn was thinking they did look like they would be a lot of fun, but she managed to say, "I don't think I should.""Can't you swim?" Trielle asked as if that were the only possible objection one could make to her invitation."Well, yes, I can but, ""She can't breathe underwater," came a familiar voice from behind Evelyn, in the direction of the apple tree.Evelyn nodded, "Yes, that's right; I can't."Trielle pouted a bit theatrically, and said, "Horace, you're always spoiling our fun.""I doubt that," said the falcon."Are you sure you don't want to come in for a while?" Trielle asked, though her tone suggested she knew what the answer would be.Evelyn drew back from the water, curling up well out of reach of the people watching her in the pool, but smiled and said, "I'm very flattered, but I really must continue on my quest."As her companions began dropping down into the water, Trielle said, "Oh, a quest? Well, that's understandable. It was very nice meeting you, Sage."Then, with a wave and smile, Trielle dove beneath the water, which was broken again a moment later as a very large fish-tail flipped up and splashed before disappearing again.After realizing she was gaping at the fact that she'd just been eaten out by a mermaid and invited to participate in a mer-orgy, Evelyn shut her mouth, stood up and turned to see Horace perched in the tree. She smiled and said, "Thank you. I wasn't thinking too clearly there for a minute.""Don't mention it," Horace said. "Might be a good idea to be a bit more careful, though. This whole place wants to keep you from getting where you want to go.""The place wants, ?" she started but Horace had already taken to the skies again.Carrying an apple in one hand and her staff in the other, Evelyn spent the rest of the day making her meandering way through the Labyrinth. She found that the more natural-seeming surface maze was combined with the occasional overpass and tunnel. She moved as quickly as possible through the latter but tried to appreciate the view afforded by the former. Unfortunately, the Labyrinth now stretched out in every direction with no clear end in sight.Toward evening she heard her next sign of animal life, and it was not at all welcome. Rising in the distance as she started down from one of the overpasses, Evelyn heard something that sounded uncomfortably like the howl of a wolf. Spinning around with her staff at the ready, apple falling to her feet, she scanned her surroundings for any movement or other sign. After several minutes of nothing, she hurried back into the maze. She was now looking for some kind of shelter for the night.The best she could do before it got too dark to continue was to climb up a tree that had enough leaves on it that she wasn't completely visible from the ground. As she finally ate her apple, Evelyn realized that her precarious perch was far from ideal. She might fall in her sleep, and she had no assurance whatsoever that the beast Horace had mentioned couldn't climb this tree as well as she, or better. She wasn't even sure that the howl she had heard belonged to that beast. For all she knew, there could be several beasts about.Still, she would be even more vulnerable on the ground, wandering about the maze in the dark, so she made the best of the situation. Wedged as comfortably as possible, she passed a fitful night in the branches of her tree.As soon as the sky began to lighten in the morning, Evelyn managed to climb down. Rubbing her stiff muscles, she congratulated herself on still being alive and in one piece. Then she started off again.That second day was a long, tedious one, punctuated only by the discovery of another apple tree and then, in the evening, another howl. This time she was sure it was closer, but she still couldn't tell from which direction it came. She managed to clamber up onto the top of a wall, where she managed to sleep a bit during the night. She dreamed of a black shape looking for her with blazing red eyes.Soon after her first masturbation break (spent huddled in a corner, thinking about her fun on the Riverboat with Don) on day three, Evelyn came upon what she took to be a hopeful sign.Her way was blocked by a heavy stone gate with a broad platform set above it. It didn't seem to her that whoever had designed the Dark Labyrinth would put such an obstacle here if it was just a dead end.As she approached the gate, there was a loud flapping sound - much, much louder than anything Horace could make. Craning her neck, she was able to catch sight of a massive shape swooping overhead just before it landed on the platform over the gate.Evelyn was amused to see a winged sphinx perched there regarding her carefully. It had the body and limbs of a rather large lion or some other cat, enormous feathered wings at either side, and the dark-haired head of a handsome, bearded, man. It had been several days with mostly herself for company, and the encounter with Trielle had been all too brief, so she wasn't too surprised to find herself wondering if she was about to experience some sphinx sex. She was more surprised to find that the idea was more intriguing than troubling. This was Eros, after all.The sphinx looked her over slowly, cleared his throat, and said in somewhat bellowing and official tone, "I am Oberon, guardian of this gate, only those who pass my test shall pass!" Then, in a more conversational voice, he asked, "Are you lost or what?""Ah, no," Evelyn frowned. "At least, I don't think I'm lost."

YES, STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES. THE TITLE SHOULD CLUE YOU IN THAT SOMEBODY WAS NOT USING THEIR THINKING CAP, WHEN THEY DECIDED TO HELP A TURTLE IN THE MIDDLE OF I 95 TODAY. LISTEN AND ENJOY THE STORY, OR JUST GOOGLE IT.

This week on the black mind podcast We both love Giant big tits  Cliffhanger and the black panther game dies  We like trains with monsters  All that and more on this late episode of the black mind podcast Hosts Jeff Josh 

What kicks off as a fun yarn about 80s rave culture and how music connects us all quickly turns into a deep (and surprisingly honest) chat about the battle scars it takes to become someone worth listening to. Mitch and Mills dive into: ⚡ How AI's changing the coaching game

Ingmar liest heute eine Kurzgeschichte aus seinem unveröffentlichten Buch „Der Hofnarr Gottes.“ vor. Titel: Ronny the Fucker oder auch: Der Queerolant! Für euch - für Mutti.Tickets für Live:www.stadelmannliesthoecke.de Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

After Wire's dour performance against Hull, the podcast goes in search of answers. Dennis visits Shepton Mallet Prison, Rob celebrates his wedding anniversary and Sam downs 1500ml of wine. Plus, Daniel's not happy with player recruitment as the pod hints towards Oasis tickets. Enjoy. www.patreon.com/whatbevan

HEI, FUCKERS! Denne episoden handler mest om hjemløse. De har nemlig en barnlig tilnerming til teknologi, som vi mener samfunnet kan lære av. Eivind har observert en ny trend i bybildet og innser at han trenger enda et friår. Christian savner Ravi (ring mæi plis) og AK gjør burpees på Kringsjå. Vi vil forøvrig takke henne for en fremreagende tekniker jobb. Uten henne kunne ikke vi ha laget Radio Novas beste sending noensinne.

This week, Raoni shares the origin story of the infamous Floppy Fish Fucker from past episodes in the "My Gay Expose Podcast" era of this series. Awkwardness is the theme of this week's story as Raoni sheds some light as to why he could have possibly made a repetitive friends-with-benefits situation with someone whose sex was so bad it could only be described as the Floppy Fish Fucker.Follow The Raoni Washburn Show on:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Positive+1⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠all @exposingmygay,Please subscribe to the "⁠⁠⁠⁠Bossy Power Bottom Gay-Treon (Patreon)⁠⁠⁠⁠" and get all things Bossy Power Bottom Productions bonus content from over four shows! Don't forget to go to ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠raoniwashburn.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ for any information you need on the show or Bossy Power Bottom Productions. While on the show website, look at the⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Bossy Power Bottom Catalog⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and pick out your next piece for your upcoming gay or pride-related event. Do you have something you want Raoni to hear? Call in on the official Bossy Power Bottom hotline at 415 501 0401 and leave a message. Any other inquiries are received at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠mygayexpose@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ !

Kid A.G. and El Pres dive headfirst into the cesspool of AI madness, Elon Musk's sperminator antics, and the Cheeto-faced bromance that's making America gag harder than a Hooters waitress on a slow tip night. This ain't your grandma's podcast—unless your grandma's a foul-mouthed degenerate who loves a good conspiracy rant. Strap in, degenerates! Go Deep! What's on the Menu?   AI: The Good, The Bad, and The gloriously Fucked-Up – Kid A.G. unleashes Grok 3 in fun mode, and it roasts Elon like a Thanksgiving turkey on a spit. Evil AI domination? Check.   12 Kids, Zero Chill – This asshole's got more crotch goblins than a clown car at a haunted house. Is he a genius or just a horny egomaniac with a broken condom stash?   Bromance – Billionaires circle-jerking over power grabs while the world burns. Featuring Trump's tanning bed fetish and Elon's creepy ketamine-fueled awkwardness.   Political Shitshow  – From deregulation to Starlink mind control, these two are turning America into a dystopian wet dream.   Fertility Clinic Fiascos – A lady pops out a black baby that ain't hers, and some old dude's sperm is still knocking up strangers. What the actual fuck?   Hooters Nostalgia – Kid A.G. and El Pres drool over waitresses in khaki shorts and dream of stealing bartenders for the ultimate bar lineup. Boobs and beers, baby! This episode's a chaotic dumpster fire of AI rants, Musk-bashing, and Trump-mocking—exactly what you signed up for. Go Deep!, Fuckers! Wanna scream at us? Hit up goindeepshow@email.com  Tell us how much you hate Elon's haircut or Trump's tiny hands—we don't give a shit, but we'll read it anyway. 

In this weeks special episode producer Emm plays through snippets of the most listened to episodes! Can you guess what number 1 is? To watch the full video, see exclusive content and support the podcast join our Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/comecurious Follow us on Instagram @comecurious and DM us your questions and f*ck off stories! Follow Florence @florencebark Follow Reed @reedamberx Produced and edited by @sillygooseteam Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textThe Bums are back in the rail yard for S5:0124, smacking the top half with Chicago Bears coaching picks; NFL Playoff finales and Super Bowl look ahead assessment; the Kansas City Refs are a on a terror (rolls eyes); Olin “Crazy Eyes Killer” Kruetz hired by Bears as new O-line coach (kinda); Justin “Tugger” Tucker - recent grad from  DeShaun Watson Charm School - is another massage predator; Buckeyes man-handles the Irish to win the College Football Championship; Vandy's freshman scoring record busted again; with spring around the corner talk turns to baseball and the Hall of Fame holdout(s) who should be punched in the face; Yankees bake sale fails to cover payroll; NBA trade season starts with a head scratcher; Jimmy “Drama” Butler is weird; TGL Golf not really real; and close with NCAA soccer farm systems being a thing.The second half zings into another infamous beer review with a collaboration with Chicago's Old Irving Brewing's and San Francisco's Barebottle Brewing Company with “Overland Flyer” (ABV 5.9%), a West Coast Pilsner brewed with a lager grain bill, dry-hopped.  It features Citra, Nectaron, & Sabro buds, fermented with a clean lager yeast; presents as crisp and hop-forward, especially for a pilsner (well done); Rocky nearly crys over spilt bloodies — and it goes as you'd expect; The band The Band lost its final living member (sad emoji face); Eddie fingers a 10 pounder and Rocky is on shovel duty; another Chow Report installment bakes with Trumer Tap y Cinco Rabanitos; Rocky's Vegas streak is intact; singing the Brown People Blues; something's amiss with signage Chicago's Empty Bottle; and close as Paddy gives Netflix series ‘Night Agent' a once over.   Bums of Manarchy, here it comes, better fresh — t-shirts for everyone.Recorded on February 2nd, 2025 at B.O.M.'s global headquarters, Paddy's Southside Cave, in Chicago, IL

We're BACK-ish! Sisters, Jenna and Annie are back for a special reunion episode! We're sharing all the updates and laughs from the past year. Support the show

Virginia goes north, in her mission to save Christmas.By cb summers. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. I won't bore you with the teeny little details of what happened after that. But here are the general outlines of it: fake young Santa was put on suspension, pending investigation, and I was arrested because he claimed that I'd attacked him. That I'd raped him, in fact. Little old me. Can you imagine that? But apparently he forgot there was a hidden camera in the room, aimed right at the throne. On the tape he was clearly a willing participant, so they released me after one night in jail. He was fired, which serves him right for being such a liar. I wasn't prosecuted, although they considered it.The children waiting in the queue line had been evacuated as soon as I started getting loud. But the store made me sign a non-disclosure agreement. So… I can't really talk about what happened or they'll sue me. Oh, and I was banned from that store for life.I also found out that the only reason he and those other department store Santas knew my name was that the elves took down everyone's name in advance and whispered it to Santa before bringing them up! Can you imagine the duplicity? We didn't use that kind of trickery back when I was an elf!But worst of all, I spent Christmas Eve in jail, which was absolutely horrible. I'd been planning all year to wait for Santa to come down my chimney. I'd be lying naked on the table next to the tree, freshly baked cookies stacked on my belly and a glass of milk between my legs. I knew I would be irresistible. But now I despaired! There was no chimney in the big communal cell they threw me in. The girls there tried to have some Christmas spirit, but it was totally the pits. I was certain that when I went home I'd find another lump of coal on my floor. But when I finally got back to my apartment late Christmas night, there were no presents at all. I'd been robbed. I must have left my door unlocked, or someone had picked the lock. I had no idea if Santa left me a present that year or not. The thieves stole all my presents. Fuckers.Anyway, the lesson I took away from that event was this: never trust a man in a Santa suit. From that moment on I would only seek out men who looked like Santa naturally. No gimmicks. No makeup. No fancy suits. Just natural, fat, jolly, white haired men. I felt certain that the forces of the universe were bringing me and Santa together, and all I needed to do was keep looking, and sooner or later I'd find him.As I said earlier, I'm an eternal optimist.SCENE 3MEET-UP AT MOOSE CAFÉAfter hanging up with Kris, I set out for the all night diner. The weather was horrible. It was snowing, and roads were nearly impassable. But in spite of my poor winter driving skills, I made it through, heedless of the wind and weather. I got there well before him. Kris took almost half an hour longer than he'd said he would. Not surprising. The North Pole is something like 1000 miles from Anchorage. Maybe he couldn't find Rudolph that night, so it was harder to make it through the storm. But whatever it was, just when I was starting to worry he wouldn't show up, I saw him walk nervously through the door. He stomped the snow off his big brown boots and hung his huge green winter coat next to the door. I'd half expected him to be wearing his Santa suit, but he was going incognito of course. He was wearing a big hand-knitted red and green sweater and a green knit cap with a big white ball of yarn on top. He looked absolutely adorable.He saw me sitting in the last booth along the window and smiled a pale, sad smile. He sat down across from me and was happy to see I'd already ordered him a great big steaming mug of cocoa. I would have ordered cookies too, but they didn't have any.There was a faraway look in his eyes. “Thanks for… helping me. It's been a crazy couple of days,” he said with his deep velvety voice.I reached out to pat the back of his big hand. “I've been there.” His skin was amazingly soft.“Yeah?” he said. “That surprises me. You look so… I don't know… innocent.”“Sometimes I feel like I am innocent. Down deep. But of course, I'm not. I'm a sex addict, same as you. I've done so many naughty things… stupid, reckless things… you have no idea.”He nodded and sipped his cocoa. We sat in silence for a while. I didn't know what to say. I'd never been a sponsor before. I wasn't sure where to start. After a while he asked, “So… you didn't speak at the meeting. What's your sob story? No, don't answer… I shouldn't pry.”I was relieved he'd started the ball rolling, so I smiled and said, “Oh, don't worry about it. My sob story is that I'm just your average, ordinary, everyday sex addict. I've been celibate for almost a year, but I spent the year before that hitchhiking around the continent, having unprotected sex with total strangers. You know, same ol' story.”His feathery white eyebrows went up with interest. “Really? Were there a lot of them?”I shrugged, “I never bothered to count at the time. But Sam told me to come up with an estimate. I'm sure it was more than a hundred. Maybe one twenty five? I don't know. It was a bit of a blur…” My cheeks were red with embarrassment.He smiled a wicked little smile. His eyes were really twinkling now. He leaned closer to me over the table, “Details, please.”This is exactly the sort of thing that sex addicts aren't supposed to do. You know, turn each other on with their lurid tales. But I wanted Kris to trust me. He needed my help. So I had to open up to him… at least a little. I decided to tell him my story, sort of. I left out the stuff I did in New York, because that all involved men in Santa suits and if I talked about those guys, eventually I would say too much, and he'd know my secret. If he knew I had a thing for guys with white beards, well, I wasn't sure what would happen, but I wasn't ready to drop that bomb just yet.“Well…” I said, “let's see. Every sex addict is chasing something. For me it was a particular man. A fantasy figure, if you will, who I was trying to find…”“Mr. Right?” he prompted. Oh, Kris understood me so well!“Yes, that's right! I was looking for my Mr. Right. I had this fixed idea in my mind of what he looked like, what he acted like, how he smelled… and I knew that I'd know him as soon as I met him. But every time I met a man who resembled this idea I had in my head… well, I was overcome with the urge to kiss him, and that usually led to more. But it seemed like the minute it was over I'd figure out he wasn't Mr. Right after all, and I'd go out in search of him all over again. It was an obsession. I lost my job as a result. Eventually, I couldn't afford to live in New York anymore so I put my treasures in storage and hit the road in a rickety old car. I drove randomly from town to town, city to city, looking for Mr. Right.”“And you found him everywhere you looked.”“Yep. I found him in stores, on streets, bars, churches, fairgrounds… everywhere. Not everyone was happy with me trying to kiss them, so I got in trouble a few times, and I kept moving. I found that biker bars and truck stops were filled with Mr. Rights. Those guys are mostly straight and mostly hedonists, so I had better luck approaching them.”“Wow,” he said, his eyes wide with amazement at my tale, “That sounds… dangerous.”“I guess. But I was lucky. I didn't get any STD's, and I went on the pill to keep from getting pregnant. And none of these guys were ever violent with me. I wouldn't have approached a scary looking man in the first place. I wouldn't kiss a man unless he was jolly.”“Jolly?” he asked with interest.“Happy, I mean. Nice faces, a good laugh. Anyway, the only times I felt in danger were a couple of orgies at biker clubs. I was only interested in Mr. Right, but sometimes his buddies would want to join in… sometimes they didn't ask. One time this guy came right up and stuck it in my… you know. Back door. Ugh. I hated that kind of thing at the time.”“But… you like it now?” he said, with a lustful twinkle in his eye.I blushed and slapped his hand, “Kris. A sex addict can get used to anything. Anyway, whenever I was making love to Mr. Right, I felt so happy that I actually wanted to please his friends. Afterwards however… I sometimes felt stupid. Cheap. Dirty.”The look of lust left his eye. I'd connected with him. “Exactly,” he said, tears suddenly welling up in his big blue eyes, “That's exactly how I feel. It's great when I'm doing it, then I cum… and bam! I realize what a total disaster my life is becoming.”I reached out to touch his rosy cheek. Oh my, his beard was soft!! Downy soft, like a fuzzy bunny! A tear fell out of his eye and ran across my thumb, sending an electric jolt through my pussy. I had to restrain myself from leaping over the tabletop to kiss him. I put my hand back down on the table, trying to control my breathing. That was a close one.“I know, Kris, I know. But it gets better. Although sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. Sometimes you just have to hit bottom before you can turn things around.” I think I heard someone say that in a movie once.He nodded and wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his sweater, “So, how did you hit bottom?”“Kris… I came here to help you, not tell you my sad story…”“It is helping me… listening to you. Honestly. I want to hear.” His azure eyes looked at me… I mean, right at me, unblinking. I don't think anyone had ever, in my whole life, looked at me that way. My heart went thumpity, thump, thump!“Well,” I said, “eventually my car broke down, and I set out on foot, hitchhiking from place to place. I knew that was dangerous so I went to a truck stop to see if I could find someone to give me a lift all the way to Alaska. You see, I'd gotten this idea in my mind that Mr. Right probably lived in or near Alaska. Anyway, I met this guy at a truck stop who not only looked just like Mr. Right, he was on his way to Anchorage! He had this big beautiful red truck and …”“Was he Jolly?” Kris asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.I laughed, “Oh, yes. Jolly as hell. So I kissed him right there in the parking lot, and he took me to his truck and we fucked… oh, sorry, I don't mean to be so crude.”Kris leaned forward, speaking softly so nobody but me could possibly hear him. “Virginia… why do we use euphemisms? Why are we so ashamed to call a thing what it is? It's kind of like lying. I didn't have a dalliance with my employees. I fucked them. I stuck my cock in their mouths and up their asses. I came all over their faces. I cheated on my wife. I mean that's what I did. If we're not going to be honest, how can we ever face our mistakes?” He smiled at me, and I felt bathed in Saint Nick's radiance.I blushed, leaned in closer and continued my story, “Well, you asked for it. Here's the story, euphemism-free… Where was I…?”“He took you to his truck to fuck.” It was so weird seeing Kris Kringle's lips say that word. Weird and exciting!“Yeah, okay. I fucked Mr. Right in the back of his big cab. We fucked, and fucked, and fucked a long time. He was a great lover. Nicely shaped cock, lots of stamina, great kisser. and his mouth… oh, shit, Kris, he made me cum so hard that I can almost feel his tongue in my pussy a year and a half later! He was so perfect that after sex was over, I still thought he was Mr. Right. That had never happened before. And when I asked him if he was Mr. Right, he said he was! Joy! I thought I'd found Mr. Right… for three magical days. He'd drive for a while, then we'd fuck, then drive some more, and I'd give him a blow job… basically we did it as many times a day as he could get it up. I was in heaven. Once he pulled his truck over, and we made love a beautiful stand of Christmas pines. It would have been the happiest moment of my life if not for the fact that he was a fraud.”“How did you find out he was lying?” I could tell that the story was exciting the sex addict in Kris, but he was trying hard to stay focused on me as a friend. I really appreciated that!“I was looking through his personal stuff, trying to find something to read when I came across a little photo album. It had pictures of him and his wife and kids.”“You must have been pissed.”“No, I didn't care about that. I've always known that Mr. Right is married. I don't know if he has kids, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did. He's been married a long time. No, that's not what upset me. It was the picture of him hunting. He was standing over the body of a dead reindeer… smiling like a son of a bitch!”Kris choked on his cocoa, and a look of fury crossed his previously jolly face. “The fuck you say!”“It totally horrified me! Mr. Right is not a hunter, much less a reindeer killer. This guy was a fraud! It nearly broke my heart, Kris. So I told him to stop the truck and let me out!”“He abandoned you in the middle of nowhere?”“No. He didn't let me out. He admitted lying to me and begged my forgiveness. He said I was the only girl, other than his wife, who'd shown interest in him sexually. His wife had some sort of medical condition that made it impossible for them to have sex, so when I came along it was like a dream come true. I don't know why I let him mollify me, but I did. He said he wanted to make it up to me by driving me the rest of the way to Alaska. But I absolutely refused to spend another moment in that truck with such a big fat liar.”“So… you got out?”“No. He told me he knew Mr. Right and that he'd take me to him.”“Oh, Virginia,” Kris said with disappointment, “You fell for that?”“I was obsessed. So yes, I fell for it. But it seemed like he was keeping his word at first. He drove me to a gas station where there was a mechanic who looked just like Mr. Right. The truck driver told me to stay in the cab, and he went in to talk to Mr. Right. After a while they came back, and the mechanic came up to meet me. He stank of gasoline, and his hands were smeared with oil, but I knew it was him. I knew it was Mr. Right, just as I'd known many times before.”“You fucked him.”“Of course I fucked him. I fucked a greasy, smelly, mechanic who reeked of cigarettes just because he looked jolly. But of course, after he'd shot his wad into me I realized he wasn't the real deal, and he went away. I was used to disappointment by then so when the trucker offered to take me somewhere else to look for the real Mr. Right… well, I couldn't refuse. I wanted him to. It sounds crazy to me now, but at the time it seemed almost like the ideal situation. The trucker drove me from place to place, and he was pretty good at finding Mr. Rights. We were still heading toward Alaska, but slowly. We must have hit every truck stop we passed in Montana and Canada. I'd wait in the back of the cab, and after a while, he'd bring back Mr. Right. Sometimes several of them. But he'd only introduce one of them to me at a time. Sometimes they weren't totally what I had in mind, but just to be on the safe side, I'd at least give them a blowjob or let them take pictures of me naked. But if they looked good enough I'd let them do anything they wanted. Even fuck me up the ass, which I was beginning to enjoy.” I blushed again.“You naughty girl,” he said, with a playful leer. But I could tell he was just trying to keep the conversation light. There was a deep look of concern and compassion on his face, which warmed my heart and gave me the courage to continue.“After maybe four months of this, I saw one of the San… I mean one of the Mr. Rights giving the trucker some money. After that Mr. Right was through with me, I started thinking about that money. I searched the cab of the truck while he was taking a shit. I found a pile of money, all different sizes of bill, Canadian, American… And it finally dawned on me… I was a whore. I was a truck stop whore.”Kris reached out and took my hands in his hands. His azure eyes were wet with compassion. “I'm so sorry, Virginia.”Tears started running down my face. It was astounding. I hadn't cried about any of this. Ever. I'd always focused on the good memories. The pleasure of sex, the joy of giving men happiness, the fun of the hunt… But looking into Kris Kringle's understanding eyes… I felt all the suppressed disappointment, frustration, and shame bubbling to the surface. Tears started coming out of Kris's eyes too, and we just sat there for the longest time, holding hands and staring at each other's eyes, tears running down our faces. Then we started laughing at the absurdity of it all. It was a perfect moment. We understood each other.It was six a.m., and the first morning rush began in the Diner.I said, “We never got around to talking about you.”“No, that's okay…”“Kris, you need to unburden yourself.” More people came through the jingling door. “But we need privacy. I think we should get a room at the motel.”There was an electric look in his eyes.“No Kris, not to fuck,” I said with a laugh. “I just can't take you back to my place because it's too small, and I have roommates, and I really don't think you should go home right now. I can tell you're in crisis mode. You need to take care of this thing so it doesn't destroy you. So it doesn't mess up your business. How is that deadline thing you mentioned going?”He shook his head, “A total disaster. If I could just get back to who I used to be, I could turn this whole thing around. But every time I step a foot into the factory…”“I take it you're not the only sex addict you know.”“I'm not sure if they're sex addicts exactly. But I'm the boss. I set the tone. My problem is their problem… I guess that sounds crazy.”“Kris, we need to keep talking. Come with me.” I gently led him to the door. We put on our coats and walked out into the freezing air. It was still dark and would be dark most of the day. The sun only rose a couple of hours a day that time of year. We crunched through the snow over to the Motel. I went in and rented a room. Kris was nervous. Perhaps he was nervous that we'd end up fucking… but I think he was just afraid to tell me his story.We walked silently to our second floor room. I felt a rising wave of anticipation. I had no intention of sleeping with him, but still, somewhere deep inside, the old me was screaming, “FUCK SANTA!!” The room was small, but warm. There were two beds. We didn't take off our coats, afraid that would imply intimacy. We sat on the beds, looking at each other across the gap.Two silent minutes passed. We were both waiting for the other to begin.I cleared my throat and said, “I know you're Santa Claus.”The expression on his face… you could have knocked him over with a candy cane. That was the last thing on earth he expected me to say.“You… what?”“It's okay Kris. I know.”He looked at me for several seconds, then said, “Did you just say, ‘I know you're Santa Claus?' You're joking, right?”“Oh, don't be coy, Kris. I knew you the moment I saw you.”“Look, Virginia. I'm just a fat guy with a white beard. Sure, I look like Santa Claus I guess. But… I'm not actually…” He started to chuckle, “Oh! You're pulling my leg!”But I just looked at him as seriously as I could and said, “You're Santa Claus. Kris Kringle. Saint Nicholas. Father Christmas. Pere Noel…”“This is getting weird,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Please tell me you're joking.”I looked at him with compassion, “I understand. You have a secret identity to protect. I get that. But the stakes are too high for pussy footing around. Christmas is in danger! You said it yourself: if we can't be honest, how can we face our mistakes?”He stood up and started sidling to the door. “I… uh, I don't know who you think I am… but this is just too weird.” He put his hand on the doorknob.“I fuck Santas,” I said. That stopped him. He looked at me with a crazy expression. “That Mr. Right I was talking about before, well that was just a euphemism. My Mr. Right is Santa Claus. I spent two years looking for Santa and fucking anyone who resembled him. And it was all because of that lousy lump of coal you left on my floor three years ago.”An angry look flashed in his eyes, “What are you… what is this? Oh, I get this, you've been chasing me because I look like Santa, is that it? What kind of freak are you?”I felt calm. More calm than any time in my life. I knew what I had to say. It would hurt, but I had to do it. I had to get through to him somehow.“Why did you leave me that lump of coal, Kris? I mean, I know you like my cookies, but that was pretty harsh. It sort of fucked up my life, you know? I lost my job. I lost my innocence. I left my family and friends behind to chase you across the continent, just so I could apologize for offending you. It wasn't all your fault, and I'm glad I finally found you… but still, I want to know. Why the lump of coal? Was I really that naughty?”He opened the door, his face contorting in rage, confusion, and shame. He walked stiffly out into the falling snowflakes. I followed slowly and calmly. I leaned on the railing as I watched him stumble down the icy stairs and storm across the parking lot below me. He slipped on a patch of ice and fell on his back with a bang. Then he just lay there, hands on his face, sobbing like a baby. I calmly walked down the stairs and carefully across the slick parking lot. I squatted next to him.“Come back inside.” I pulled his hand from his sobbing face, helped him to his feet and led him slowly back to the room. This time I sat next to him on the bed, my arm around his back.He sobbed for a while then began to blubber, “You threw the tree out the window!”“So, it wasn't the cookies after all!” I said in surprise.“No. I love your cookies. But I have this thing about Christmas trees. It really pissed me off, you know? I have issues, I guess. I was intending to give you a cooking set…”“Cooking set,” I said the same time he did, “Yeah, that's right. I asked for a cooking set with red enamel and little dancing elves on the side…”He sniffed, “Yes, just so. I felt so bad about the coal, I kept the cooking set all year, just so I could give it to you the following Christmas.”I smiled. “Really? You gave me a present?”“What…? Didn't you get it?”“I was burglarized, Kris. They took everything.”“Oh no…” he said with a horrified expression on his face, “I'm so sorry… I didn't know… Oh, you should have seen it! It was beautiful! The elves spent twenty whole minutes making it for you.”I gave him a squeeze, “That's okay. I guess I deserved to have it stolen. I was extra naughty that year. And I'm sorry about the tree. More than you even know. All my ornaments were on that tree. Some of them belonged to my grandma. She brought them all the way from Iceland.”“Anna? I remember her. She was very nice.”“I'm sorry about everything Kris. I shouldn't have listened to my sister.”“Stephanie, eh? She was always the naughty one in your house. But I gave her presents anyway because the rest of you were so good. What did Stephanie do?”“She said my parents were sneaking into my apartment leaving presents for me from you.”He laughed, “And you believed that?”“I'm sorry, Santa.” He put his arm over my shoulder and hugged me into his side.“I'm sorry too, Virginia.”I threw my arms around Kris Kringle and hopped on his lap. I hugged him so hard, if he'd been anyone other than Father Christmas, I'd have crushed his bones. But Kris hugged me back with his strong, ancient arms. I looked into his weeping blue eyes and tenderly kissed his eyelids, feeling his magical tears wet on my lips. Then I kissed his face, slowly, peck-by-peck, down his nose and rosy cheeks until our lips met. His silky beard softy tickled my face. We kissed slowly, almost shyly at first but the passion between us was building fast. I felt an erection growing in his pants. A very BIG one, in fact!I hopped off his lap and said, “We can't do this Kris. Not now. Not yet.”“Virginia,” he said, his deep voice thick with lust, “I want to make love to you so bad.”“I know, I know,” I said, giving him a kiss on his rosy cheek. “But not until we save Christmas.”That night Kris Kringle laid down on the other bed and told me everything. If you thought my story was crazy. Wait till you hear his!SCENE 4SANTA'S SLOW DESCENT INTO DEPRAVITYMy world has always been one of wonder and joy, music, snow, the laughter of children and good will to men. But all good things must come to an end, they say.My slow descent into depravity all began with the sex toys.They weren't my idea. They were Mary's. That's Mrs. Claus to you. I met my wife so long ago, I could hardly remember what made me fall in love with her in the first place, although it was probably her beauty. We were happy in those golden days of yore, but for the last fifty years or so, we'd been sort of going through the motions. We barely had anything to say to each other anymore. People change, I guess, even immortals.We weren't intimate anymore. Hell, we hadn't had sex since 1985. And that was only because we'd just gone to see 'Santa Claus, the Movie', and she was happy about how good she came off in the film. After drinking a bit too much hot toddy that evening, she started getting frisky. Well, that was fine with me. I'd always thought she was a beautiful woman. She doesn't look like they always depict her, you know. She hasn't aged a day since the moment I fell in love with her on that Bavarian mountainside in 1702. She still looked twenty-two, with red hair and a shapely figure, long legs, beautiful ass and large breasts. Absolutely 'smoking' hot', as they say these days. She was a tall girl, almost six foot three. In heels, she towered over me. A true Bavarian beauty! So when she started getting feisty after the movie, I looked forward to a good old-fashioned roll in the snow, but it was just as disappointing as ever. She quickly lost interest, and I couldn't maintain an erection. It was a dud all around. To tell you the truth, Mary had always been a bit of a cold fish. For the first hundred years or so she'd indulged my passions, but she'd never seemed all that interested in sex. Or at least not that interested in having sex with me. Why else would we have been childless after two centuries together, the only two humans at the North Pole? We stopped having sex entirely after that sad encounter.So when, just over a year ago, Mary came to me with the sex toy idea, well… I was just flat out flabbergasted.She called me into her plush office on the third floor. She was sitting at her computer, her red hair pulled up into the enormous bun she liked to wear. I so much preferred when she let her hair down, but it had been in a bun since the mid-seventies. She was looking particularly fetching that day in a tight red dress with white fur lining. It was low cut. She hadn't dressed that way for ages. My eyes twinkled at the almost forgotten sight of her cleavage. But I knew she'd dressed up for a reason. The last time she did this she'd talked me into building her this office, which was three times larger than my own. She was a very persuasive woman!“Kris, we need to expand. We're reaching the kids, yes, but as soon as some idiot tells them you don't exist, well, they stop writing.”“I know, Mary, but the world population is growing every year. I'm not sure it's a good idea to expand. I'm not sure it's even possible to find more believers.”“Kris, just hear me out.” She pushed a button on her computer, and a group of female elves scampered out of a tiny little door. They began to turn a series of cranks, lowering an enormous projection screen over the crystal windows that lined one wall of her office. Then a PowerPoint presentation came on. The first slide was a complicated flowchart. Mary flashed me her best smile and said, “As you can see from this chart here, the age of disbelief is getting younger and younger, outpacing the increasing population. Manufacturing facility four and five have gone unused for almost ten years! You don't want to even know how many elves have been living off the dole, waiting for work to pick up. It's not a good situation.”This wasn't news to me. “Well, what do you have in mind? We've tried everything to keep kids believing. Cartoon shows, video games, promotional toys at fast food joints… but it's just not working.”She flipped to another slide, “Not exactly true, Kris. This slide shows that there is a significant population of adult women who still believe in you. Almost twenty million, based on this list of believers.”“Yes I know. Women tend to have a greater capacity for magical thinking. But the majority of them don't write letters after they grow up. We only deliver presents to people who ask.”To be continued..By cb summers for Literotica

Sorry we left you in the lurch for a couple weeks there, Spookies! Thankfully, we're back in full force with a new installment of Werewolf vs. Vampire Seasonal Depression Event (WWVVSDE). Another early-aughts monster movie featuring Kate Beckinsale, Underworld (2003) is treading some familiar territory — but unlike Van Helsing, this flick did manage to launch its own franchise. In fact, there are a whole bunch of movies and even video games centered around the ~Eternal War~ through the eras, but we thought we'd start at the beginning. On our latest episode, we're exploring the all-blue aesthetic, experimenting with wig work, and fawning over Michael Sheen as we uncover all of the various Twilight parallels. References:https://swampflix.com/2019/10/28/the-true-battle-in-underworld-2003-wasnt-vampires-vs-werewolves-it-was-practical-effects-vs-cgi/https://www.awn.com/vfxworld/evolving-vfx-underworld

Josh Sebo (COO of OfferVault), Adam Young (CEO of Ringba), industry legend Harrison Gevirtz and special guest Butch Hildebrand (CEO of Everything Entertainment & Ikonique Models, Director of Digital Marketing at Excel Medical, Head of Business Development for 247 Payments & Brand Ambassador for LeadBit) discuss: - Everything Entertainment, what it does and how it works. - Estonia vs. USA (Content Creators) - Monetizing Followings - The United States Marine Corps - Mushrooms & Microdosing - Coaching & Consulting Experience - Cutting the Fat out of your Life Follow Us: OfferVault: WEBSITE: https://www.offervault.com/ FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/offervault INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/offervaultmarketing/ TWITTER: https://www.twitter.com/offervault LINKEDIN: https://www.linkedin.com/company/offer-vault/ Adam Young: RINGBA: https://www.ringba.com RINGBA's INNER CIRCLE: https://try.ringba.com/inner-circle/ FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/ringba INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/adamyoung/ TWITTER: https://www.twitter.com/arbitrage LINKEDIN: https://www.linkedin.com/in/capitalist Harrison Gevirtz: INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/affiliate/ LINKEDIN: https://www.linkedin.com/in/harrisongevirtz/ Butch Hildebrand: BVTCH: https://bvtch.com/ INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/bhilde_branded/ LINKEDIN: https://www.linkedin.com/in/butchhildebrand/ EXCEL MEDICAL: https://maleexcel.com/ 247 PAYMENTS: https://247payments.com/ LEADBIT: https://www.leadbit.com/

Women making bad decisions. Cáel to the rescue? What? In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “There is nothing wrong being a Lucky Bastard. It is wrong to rely on it.” They were all psychopaths and murderers after all, so death was becoming a vocational hazard. Me refraining from having as many sexual liaisons as possible wasn't realistic. I wasn't going to be willingly castrated and that was the only way out. The one benefit I could see was me working in a target-rich environment. "Now that I have had my turn stymieing Cáel's chaotic yet well-meaning attempts to educate us in the dangers and rewards of free-ranging masculinity," Tessa regarded the assembly, "I am getting out with my victory intact. Good luck, Sisters. You'll need it." Tessa exited, order was restored and; oh yeah, Elsa had brought me here for a sadistic love-fest, sans the sex. "I don't know what to make of you," Elsa smiled warmly, "I don't understand you and I find you to be very interesting." Let me make this clear; all three of those statements can be very bad, or very good. 'I don't know what to make of you' means I want to make it with you. 'I don't understand you' is 30% bad and 70% good. When bad, it is a prelude to a break-up. What she means is 'you aren't trying to understand me', thus the end of the relationship. On the beneficial side it means 'I've totally bought into your seduction and I'm ready to screw'. Ah, 'interesting'. Two types of women find a man 'interesting'; women who have to have you, and stalkers. Somewhat redundant. The main difference is how they respond to the Restraining Order and how much fun the erotic side of the relationship will be. The first kind of woman has a public screaming fit if you take out a RO on her. Let them build up to an incinerating level, then fuck them; it's so worth it. Stalkers ignore ROs. That's okay. Now you can legally trap them. They'll do whatever you want. Not because they are afraid of you. It is an RO for God's sake; one night in jail, maybe. No, they'll do whatever sex act you request because that's why they are stalking you in the first place; the sensual/emotional connection. When she starts making bizarre requests of you, subtly direct her to another 'more interesting' guy. Try not to use a friend. That's kind of cold. For the next few weeks, make sure the latest victim doesn't end up as a Missing Person. After that, you've done your civic duty so you can move on guilt-free. "Elsa, I need ten minutes to stretch first," I requested. She nodded. Off came the shirt. I retreated to a gymnastics mat and began stretching out my kinks. Five minutes in, I did one of my favorite maneuvers; the backwards human bridge completed when your wrists touch the Achilles tendons. Not only does this extended your abdominal muscles, it exhibits your hard-on and suggest all kinds of pages from the Kama Sutra are, in fact, possible. My performance highlighted my musculature, flexibility and numerous scars. My left thigh still had a light bandage wrapped around it. Whatever the Amazon medics were using was working gangbusters on me. Elsa had retreated to her end of the mat so I glided to my axes then promptly got off the mat. I didn't trust any Amazon, not even Aya and I'd let my heart be cut out if it would save her life. I got the feel for these axes, spun them around a few times then made to get back on the mat. "Put the loops around your wrist," Elsa directed. "Why?" I retorted. We were back to 'why are we letting a male question our orders.' "You are not allowed to throw them," Elsa allowed. I nodded. I didn't loop them. No, I walked onto the mat, weapons held axe-head down. I walked in five steps, knelt and placed the axes on the mat by my side. "Cáel, defend yourself," Elsa stated firmly. "Which is it? Do I defend myself and I act in a manner allowed by axe-work, or do I accede to your demands and be automatically defeated?" I responded. "Do you believe my spear technique is that superior to your own, made-up style?" Elsa smirked. "I think you are cheating. Worse, I think you are being a bully. If you want this to be the 'Elsa is a Bad-Ass' show, congratulations, you've won. I'm not going to fight you. I kneel before you, weapons on the mat, acknowledging that your cheating ways have defeated me," I mocked. "Savor this magnificent victory." "Your opinion of my martial prowess is not what is at question here today," Elsa spoke. I stood up, turned away and walked off the map, interrupting the rest of her speech. She was coming for me this time. I opened my towel, took out my phone and began texting away. "What are you doing?" Ngozi rumbled. *Buffy; job complete. Need to shower before next mission in queue* I hadn't hit 'send' yet. "Please correct me if I'm wrong. This was supposed to be a weapon's exhibition. That implies a study of your opponents training and capabilities. Elsa's prowess, along with my own, are the question here to today," I insisted. "Otherwise it is a waste of time for every non-sadist here." "Is it absolutely crucial that you throw an axe at Elsa?" Traska questioned. "No. It is absolutely crucial that Elsa fight under the handicap that I might throw an axe," I instructed her. "It changes the range dynamic. If I can hit her from; oh, five meters out, she has to keep close. If she has to keep close, my axes can engage her hand-to-hand." "Since Elsa chose a long spear, throwing it is clumsy, thus reducing her options," I stated. "Any range over six meters and she can probably dodge, or deflect, my throw. So we are both range limited, as it should be for a good exhibition." "I bow you reasoning," Elsa gave me a respectful nod of the head. Fucker; she liked me more, not less, despite my verbal reticence. We went to our corners. I charged first. Oh God; Elsa was super-great at spear. Less anyone forget, the spear has not only a sharp point; it also has a 20 cm bladed surface on each side plus a sold, oak shaft for blocking, poking and smacking. Elsa swung the spear around her body in lightning quick arcs. She could fight long shaft, or short shaft, as the range dictated. Long shaft was like fighting a dagger on a stick; cut and thrust. Short shaft was mainly thrusting, but was good for holding me back if I got inside her 'long' guard. Elsa's advantages were life-long experience, tons of natural talent, and being quicker than me. Our staminas were evenly matched. The drain of Elsa's fluid style equaled my two-weapon use. I had her in bulk and brawn. Elsa and I were at the top of the spectrum for our respective genders; physically and mentally better off than the majority. This meant I had her on brute strength and reach. That was genetics talking. My only other advantage was the uniqueness of my style. Elsa hadn't faced it before, though I'm sure she'd watched Constanza and Crewe's fight with me on video. Elsa figured out quickly that a left-handed battle axe made a poor shield. It covered far less area and took more energy and concentration for the assaulted to defend themselves. As soon as she put that bit of knowledge into her arsenal of tricks, I showed her another one. An axe is an axe, and when she slapped that spear against my guard one too many times, my right-handed axe chopped into the shaft, severing the spear blade from the rest of the spear. This was the point where an Amazon would have pressed the attack. I was deciding to take as little of a beating as possible. I fell back, knelt and put my axes down. There was a hush. "Elsa, do you wish to retrieve another spear?" I inquired. This was an exhibition after all. Actually, this was Elsa proving she was better than me, but she a script to stick to. "To your starting place," Elsa commanded. "Get some water." I picked up my axes and withdrew; backwards. Oneida had crept around to my side. "I know what you did this morning," Oneida gave me some water to drink. "It was very clever of you to send me away for my safety. It makes me adore you even more." I reached out with one finger and poked her nose. "You're silly," I sighed. "No," she giggled like a school girl. I was going to Hell for this one. "You are an 'Ash Man' reborn. I read about it." I had no clue that was and Elsa was waiting. The rest was pre-ordained. I got a few light cuts while not leaving a mark on Elsa. I scored major points by disposing of Elsa's second spear though I lost both axes in the endeavor. She swept my feet out from under me, I rolled away from her follow up kick and quickly went to my knees, palms flat on the mat and head lowered. Only the mentally handicapped would have thought I'd won any part of the martial contest. I'd drawn the first time. My ability to defeat Elsa with the equivalent of a staff was undecided. I had been disarmed and disarmed Elsa the second time; technically a draw, but it wasn't. Why? Because Elsa had been trying NOT to kill me, or even injury me (too much). I had been doing the same. If by some calamity I'd killed Elsa, I would have been lucky to fall on my own axes before the crowd butchered me. No, mine had been an amateur effort. I had missed Elsa mostly because I never got close. Elsa had to hold back from slicing me up and running me through. Elsa walked right up to me; I mean Right up to me. She tapped my head, indicating I should look up. There was her cunt maybe 2 inches away with only her skintight shorts between us. "As this demonstrates, we need to continue to work and update our styles," Elsa addressed the throngs. "Cáel put forth his usual exceptional effort; for the gifted amateur that he is." "Thank you for your attention today, my sisters," Elsa concluded. End of lesson. Traska picked up her medical kit and came my way. Oneida and a half dozen other Amazons closed in as well. Elsa didn't move a millimeter. Her fragrance wafted in my face. When Traska tried to shift me around so she could better access my wounds, Elsa stopped me with her hand on my head. Traska found it odd for a second then they all clued in. Elsa was making a statement. This wasn't Amazonian mannerisms coming to the fore. This was throwing down a gauntlet; Elsa's intention to win this competition; me. Amazons were inherently competitive, being tested and testing themselves against previous achievements and each other. Before Buffy opened her big mouth an hour ago, any contest for me had been a joke; the whole 'hunt me down in X-number of days'. Buffy had beaten Elsa to me. You don't get to be a 3000 year old secret society by letting one setback force you to admit defeat. No; Elsa was stepping up her game. The amazing transformation that had confused the women around us was that, according to Elsa, my opinion suddenly mattered. Buffy had made a point of me finding a way to be with her. My choice. Better yet, I'd made my choice to be with her while my life was on the line. Once again, 'I laugh at death' is an incredible turn on. Elsa hadn't changed her stance about men being armed. She was letting me train so she could summon me whenever she wanted me; unless Katrina put her foot down. Katrina wasn't going to do that often. Elsa was a useful subordinate and Katrina finally had her test dummy; me; on the firing range, which she had wanted all along. Katrina is scary-smart. You don't think so? Who kept throwing me and Buffy together knowing of the Buffy/Elsa rivalry? Who approved my sex weekend with Buffy? Who approved my firearms training once she had Elsa's endorsement? As you might recall, that was something Elsa swore she'd never do, yet here we were; a male being trained with firearms at Havenstone. Katrina didn't know when I'd figure out a way to sleep with Buffy, but she had faith in me that once I got to know Buffy, I'd figure something out. I'm far easier to read than the US Tax Code, or the Affordable Care Act. I liked sex with women, I liked being seen as a good guy, I liked trying to be a good guy; roughly in that order. Katrina knew that. I didn't particularly mind being used by her either. That was her job; to protect the security and integrity of Havenstone. Now Buffy was happy, Elsa was letting me train and by dint of my outrageous behavior, I was assisting Katrina in her plot to restore stability to the traditional Amazon bloodlines. Traska slathered this synthetic goo over my lacerations. It stung, but it aided in the healing process and was flexible enough to barely restrict movement. I winced and 'stumbled' forward face-first into Elsa's crotch. My nose ridge pressed deep into her camel toe, certainly pushing down on her clit. "I apologize," I said softly. I didn't move. Elsa didn't see fit to move me, even with her hand still in the hair on the top of my head. "Finished," Traska sighed. "Let me help you up," Oneida jumped to my aid. She helped me stand, but Elsa didn't seem to mind. Getting out of the gym alive was easy. My heartfelt pledge to myself to never return was futile. Sweaty chicks hang out at gyms. As a kid, I played D and D. If I was a Ranger, gyms would be my favored terrain. Okay, maybe bars then gyms. Fine, rock concerts, bars then gyms. I almost made it to the locker room. Coming from the other direction; the non-blooded gym; was Felix. "Hey Felix," I greeted him. Here I was with several fresh wounds and ten steamy ladies who all appeared to have a definite interest in my physique, if not my well-being. Felix was alone. That would not do, not for a man like Felix. "What happened to you?" he asked. "Figure-skating accident," I lied. "It seems I'm clumsy on ice." He didn't buy if for a second. "Oh; maybe Brooke can help patch you up tonight," he grinned. Asshole. The only flaw in his game plan was that the chicks around me didn't give a rat's ass about outsider women. They certainly weren't going to be jealous of them. "Good idea," I nodded. "Where are my manners? This is Oneida, Elsa, Traska and; well, I can't say I've been able to catch everyone's names yet." The unknown women didn't bother introducing themselves. Why? Felix was only a male. They had no immediate need of him, so they didn't bother being civil. Felix was an Alpha's Alpha. He didn't give up that easily. We made it to the showers. Buffy, having not worked out, waited by my locker. Mystically, Elsa appeared in the showers at the exact same time as me. Felix was right behind her. "Felix Melena," he offered his hand to Elsa. She shook it then went back to showering. "I'm better than Cáel." Elsa gave him a quick sneer. "What gives you that idea?" she murmured. "Why don't you let me prove it," he turned to face her, giving Elsa the complete Felix Melena aesthetic. He was a centimeter, or two taller, I was maybe three kilograms heavier and we both lavished attention on our bodies. He was perhaps a bit longer, but narrower down there. As long as it wasn't aimed at my mouth, or ass, I didn't care. By the lack of reaction in Elsa's body tempo, she didn't care either. "If you were a team bodyguard and an assassin appeared to be trying to kill myself and Hayden, who would you protect with your life?" Elsa posed. "I'd kill the assassin," Felix came back immediately. Felix was a winner. "Cáel?" Elsa said. "Hayden," I responded. "I'm a bodyguard. From the top down; protect, secure, return fire." "Cáel, you are trained as a bodyguard?" Felix smirked. "Nah. That was the common sense answer to the question she asked," I shrugged. Shampoo time. Felix was going to make me pay for that comeback. "Felix, would you ever work at Havenstone; off the clock?" Elsa continued. "Yeah," he grinned. I know what he wanted to work on; off the clock. Good luck, you bastard. "Cáel?" "I'm never off the clock, damn it," I snorted. "This job is a 24/7 crimp in my sex life." "Bro," Felix coughed. "Be careful. That's close to sexual harassment." Btw, Felix was serious. He was actually cautioning me. See, me being deported meant he couldn't crush me. "Elsa, would you please shoot me in the head?" I replied. "No," she smiled warmly at me. "I love you too," I said, dripping with sarcasm. Felix's eyes bugged out for a second. "That, Felix Melena, is why Cáel is a better man than you," Elsa looked like an angel sitting in judgment of Felix, finding him flawed and substandard. "Cáel joking around makes him better than me?" Felix mocked. The mistake here had to be Elsa's. "Your lack of understanding is not my problem," Elsa dismissed him. "Cáel, wash my back." "Fine, I'll do it, but I'm massaging your ass too," I groused. "Get it over with," she sighed with exasperation. "Damn. Felix; day in, day out. Always washing naked women. This job is killing me," I muttered. Felix wasn't one to give up easily. By the time I had totally soaped up her back, ass and upper thighs; back and front, he had exited the field. He caught me exiting the locker room. "Cáel, why don't we go out for some drinks after work?" he offered. Ah, he was going to beat me up with Brooke. "Sure," I agreed. I'm a dog. Felix was going to sleep with Brooke to show me he was the superior male. He was going to rub it in my face. I hadn't told anyone about knocking boots with Brooke. It wasn't their business. Felix would crow it to the Heavens, because pissing me off was what mattered, not how Brooke felt. I couldn't even save Brooke because Felix was in her socio-economic group and she'd make the same mistake with him she'd made with Trent; thinking they cared about her.  (Monday later) Buffy had finally dismissed me when Katrina summoned me to her office. Ignoring me getting into an altercation; in the Full-Blood gym; yet again, I had a good day. No property damage, lost items, or physically damaged employees. Ragged by most people's standards, but a good day for me at Havenstone. I still had a chance to walk out under my own power. Katrina motioned me to come to her desk. Upon my arrival, she slid a tablet over to me with a single icon on the screen. I tapped it. Aya's face appeared as the vid-mail began. She was glowing. There was tent fabric in the background so I had no idea of her geographic location. I didn't care. "Hey!" she squeaked. "I'm doing great at camp. I met three girls who are as small as me and we've formed our own squad; the Fatal Squirts." I chuckled. I had encouraged her to steal strength from her perceived weaknesses. She had to believe in herself then take that as she built up her skills. I had faith in her when no one else did. "I showed some of my councilors a picture of you. I think you would get into trouble if you came here. I want you to come, but I thought it was only fair to warn my favorite bed-buddy," she giggled. "Send me a message when you can. I understand there will be a delay as the messages have to be physically delivered. I know you are doing okay. If not, hold off your vengeance until I can return and guard your back. I love you, Cáel. Be well," she smiled as her picture faded into darkness. "Ah damn," I whispered. Aya looked good; confident, upbeat and spirited. "Katrina, can I make a message for her right now?" I begged. "Of course," she gave me an approving tilt of the head. "I think the courier is still in the building." "Cool. What do I do?" I urged. "Use the webcam; make a message and forward it to my computer," Katrina told me. "I'll take it from there." I made the message, pretty much updating her on my latest exploits with limited editing. Aya was a surprisingly innocent yet worldly 9 year old. Much of that came from being Katrina's and Desiree's niece; mainly Katrina's. It gave her access to tidbits of sensitive data from time to time. Not so much she was a real security threat. Enough so that she got some things confused; like what sex was truly about. I felt in my soul she'd be a great Amazon one day. I didn't remind her of that much. She had enough pressure for a kid her age. "You are seeing Oneida now?" a frosty voice unnerved me. It was Buffy. "Fuck," I jumped up. "Damn Buffy, stop sneaking up on me like that, or I'm going to start thinking you are a stalker." "I am stalking you, Einstein," Buffy menaced. "I'm glad we got that out of the way," I rolled my eyes. "Oh look! It's Daphne coming to my rescue. I am so out of here," I exulted. I edged passed Buffy, slipped her attempt to grab my arm and raced for the 'new hires' at the elevator. "Get back here, you Cock-sucker!" Buffy howled as she chased me down. May miracles never cease. Daphne, Violet and Tigger formed an Amazon (I wasn't sure if I could consider them 'human' yet) shield between my frail form and the hulking brute that was Buffy. "Calm down, Buffy," Daphne pleaded. "He fought Elsa today; again." "Get out of my way," Buffy snarled. "Thank God you stopped her," I huffed to Dora. "I hope to she never finds out that I soaped up Elsa's entire body while we were sharing a shower together." Daphne turned and gave me an incredulous look. "Cáel, you are a Dumb-ass," Daphne sighed. Looking to Buffy as she stood aside. "Have at." "Are you mental?" Fabiola chimed in. The elevator doors finally opened, Buffy shoved me in and the rest of the posse followed. Helena joined us at the last second. "He's taunting me," Buffy responded to Fabiola while using her middle finger to poke my chest. "At this rate I am going to have to devastate a dozen male escorts so I can make it the remaining the 69 more days until he's mine again." "Is he really that good?" Paula wondered. Buffy twisted around to confront her. "He hammered me so hard, I thought he'd dislocate my hips. Later, we spent an entire hour, naked, wrapped up in each other's bodies with no actual penetration; touching, tasting and whispered affections," Buffy curled her lip. "He's better than you could possibly imagine." "You realize we have 27 seconds left, right?" I reminded Buffy. "Really?" Buffy's head snapped back to me. I nodded and she jumped my bones. She had her hand down my pants, pulling on my rod, and the other grabbing the back of my head to deepen our kiss. For my part, I had my left hand on her breast and the right down the back of her pants, fondling a panty-covered ass cheek. In a culture where you summoned a male, ordered him to perform and he did so the same exact way he'd done a dozen times before, what Buffy and I were doing didn't make sense. The two of us didn't give up an ounce of control yet meshed perfectly. Our pleasure was obvious, vocal and we didn't give a damn about the crowd around us. Buffy and I had created our own little lust-bubble. The chimer went off. We settled down and straightened up our clothes. "Fuck it all; that's some good dicking," Buffy mumbled. That was an inside joke between me, Timothy, my big, gay, buff tattoo-artist roommate, and the few women he chose to share that descriptive with; 'a good dicking'. We tumbled out of the elevator. "Is he always like that?" Fabiola mumbled. "He's a whole lot better with his clothes off," Buffy sneered at Fabiola. Sometimes I'm a super-selfish bastard; I want life to cut me some slack. Waiting for us was Oneida; in biker clothing. That would have merely been bad, dangerous and creepy except I was dressed in work clothes. I was planning to meet some of the guys (all two of them) for some after-work drinks. The encounter went from not-good to horribly awkward. Oneida had checked up on me, been told how I got to and from work as well as when I left. Unfortunately, she hadn't checked my social calendar; mainly because I didn't keep one; sophomore year mistake. If a girl is in your apartment, she will find the thing you don't want her to find; every single time. I burned my diary and unfriended everybody after that final, hospital-resulting episode. "Hi," I greeted Oneida. She'd figured out she'd screwed up something fierce. "What bike do you use? I have a Specialized STSE hybrid. Maybe we can use some paths one weekend." I was trying to diffuse her embarrassment. We were two bikers talking about bikes. Nothing wrong with that. "I have a Specialized Source;” she got out then realized how BAD that sounded. She had the exact same bike as me; how bizarre? Unless you had somebody come down and take a look at what I bicycle I used. Time to save the day. "Do you want to make a date for 6:30 am on Saturday?" I suggested. "Provided this wacky place hasn't offed, or misplaced me by then." "Ah; that would be nice," Oneida rebounded happily. "The date, that is." "Whoa Oneida, what are you doing with this guy?" Brian derided me as he walked up. I wanted to say, 'Brian, you've insulted a princess of the Amazon people. Please continue making an ass of yourself and give Trent and Khalid my regards'. I didn't. "This is Cáel Nyilas. He's a real player," Brian smirked. "You can do better than him." Oh yeah, Oneida and Brian were co-workers; 'new hires' in Acquisitions. "Brian, it took you three days to even use my name," Oneida gave Brian a neutral stare. "I love Cáel. He saved my life and he sees the real me." For the love of all that's holy, someone shoot me in the head right now. I could hear the nearly subsonic growls emanating from Buffy. Brian looked at me, laughed and went to put an arm around Oneida's shoulder. After all, if I could pick her up, it should be effortless for him to take her away, right? Dumb-shit. Laughing at me was okay. Laughing at; then I noticed the two chicks in black leather standing about doing their best (until a second ago) to go unnoticed. Cáel had gotten away with such familiarity because Cáel had risked his life to save their Princess. Brian Fung? He barely knew her name and they worked together. These weren't even SD chicks; they were something else. My guess was Arinniti House Guard. Did Katrina's House Epona have a house guard? Sure, I imagine they did. They were probably with the rest of House Epona where ever they lived. It wasn't like the whole kit and caboodle was here in NYC. That would have been foolish. If Caitlyn, Aya's mom, had a security issue, she called us at Havenstone HQ, less than four kilometers away. Without a doubt, Elsa would stop by and kick ass for her. I gave Brian this much; he had a working set of eyes. The second those two harbingers of death began closing in, Brian back-pedaled. "Hey Brian, let's go grab some drinks," I offered him a graceful exit. "Sounds good," Brian tried to sound cool. "Oneida, take care," I nodded to my new romantic stalker. "Ladies," to my 'new hire' crew. "Buffy," to my sometimes boss, "remember you are still hot for a; mature chick." "You are going die a long, torturous and extremely painful death," Buffy sizzled. "What? Are you going to make me eat your cooking?" I laughed. Buffy didn't articulate a counter before Brian and I slipped outside. "Cáel, who was that woman?" Brian whispered. "Which one? You need to be more specific. My erotic malfeasances are terribly confusing." "The one you insulted," Brian said. "The last one you insulted," he clarified. "Buffy. She's one of my bosses," I grinned. "She loves me. She's even promised to play the bagpipes at my funeral. Personally I think that's because she doesn't want to risk anyone hearing me pounding on the coffin lid, trying to get out." "You are not going to make it the full 84 days with that attitude," Brian lectured me. "Trent has already been promoted," Brian continued. "I am regularly referred to as indispensable in my work reviews. Felix works closely with Ms. Pharos at all times. You seem to be the only one of us having; issues with Havenstone. Hell, they even shot you and you sat back and took it. I doubt your complacent attitude impressed anyone much." No mention of poor Khalid. How quickly they forget. Trent had been 'promoted' to Southeast Asia alright. I looked it up; there are around 10,000 islands between Indonesia and the Philippines. Sure some were small spits of land with a few trees. I had little doubt one of the good-sized one was a jungle of a different sort. Certainly Executive Services sent Trent's belongings somewhere. I'd never tried to find out. What would I have done with the knowledge? Brooke didn't care and I didn't know his family. Brian and I went to the same yuppie bar as last time. I was with Brian this time, so I abandoned him as quick as I could. Why? At the far end of the bar, talking the bar-back was my Delivery Girl; aka the person who did the home liquor delivery to Libra's place. Half way down the bar, she sensed me looking at her. The bar-back followed her gaze. He wasn't happy with me. DG simply didn't recognize me so I held up my valise over my groin. Confusion; surprise; acknowledgment that despite our surroundings, I wasn't worried about being seen with her. She had her hand truck; she had to make a front door delivery this time. "Remember me?" I smiled. "Cáel Nyilas; the Pillow Guy," she snickered. "How did that work out for you?" The bar-back was broadcasting his displeasure at some upper class shmuck cutting in on his action. DG caught that. "Jason, this is Cáel," she introduced me. "We last met under unusual circumstances." "What kind of name is Cáel?" Jason remarked. "An unfortunate one," I snorted. "You try explaining to your kindergarten teacher that it is 'c-a-e-l'. Of course, I wasn't 'Bomophoto' either. She had it worse than I did." Jason searched me out to see if I was pulling one over on him. I wasn't. Bomo and I bonded over our linguistic misfortune. She moved to Santa Fe in the third grade. I wonder if she grew up to be hot looking. Oink. "I'll give you that," he chuckled. "Why did you get branded?" "Mom was Irish, my Dad was in love with her so I got the cultural emersion, minus the Guinness," I shrugged. "By the way;” I looked back to the lady. "Katy Lee Baker," she batted her eyelashes. We shook hands. "How did it go?" I picked up her question. "Sex, chopped fruit, your drinks, more sex and back to the clinic before eleven." "Have you talked to them since?" Katy inquired somewhat seductively. "Perhaps. I don't like to kiss and tell," I evaded. "I'm curious because two of the three arrived five minutes before you did and they appear somewhat unhappy with you right now," she smirked. "You can look over your shoulder if you don't believe me." Sure enough, there was Felix, Brian, Brooke, Libra and; I think her name was Gina. I waved then turned back to my current two conversationalists. "So Jason, what do you like to do?" I asked the guy. "Huh; what? I work," he replied. "I mean bike, try ethnic food, go to the gym; stuff like that," I teased him. "I work six days a week; but usually one or two are afternoon shifts. Me and some buddies play some pick-up basketball," Jason told me. "Great. You'd pick a sport I suck at," I set the bait. If Jason thought I sucked, he'd invite me to play. That's how it worked. I was pretty good at basketball considering I'd spent the last four years playing with girls; on the court. Girls play some mean ball. They also didn't shy away from putting an elbow into my nuts if they felt like it. "I'm not sure I live in a neighborhood you'd be comfortable visiting," Jason threw up a roadblock. I had him on this one. I showed him my ID. It had the right address; wrong apartment number. "Shit dude, that place is about as rough as my home turf." "I get paid a quarter million a year to taste test for hexafluoride in Chinese imports," I joked. "Really?" Katy chuckled. "It's a growth industry; if you consider tumors to be growth," I was faux-serious. "Mr.; Cáel," Jason looked over my shoulder. "I think one of those chicks is about to come over here and kill you. You best hop to it." "Which one? The brunette, or the russet-colored (Libra)?" I inquired. "The brunette wants attention and the russet wants to push a red hot poker up your ass," Jason gave me his experienced opinion. Heading over there was going to be 'fun'. "Give me a call some time, Jason. Nice to see you again, Katy Lee," I waved good-bye. "You know the staff here?" Libra spat. "That was the girl who delivered the liquor to your place, Libra," I sighed. "I said 'hi'." "It takes you an awful lot of words to say 'hello'," Brian gave a false smile. Libra was positioned next to Brian. Her anger with me plus his 'sexy' put her there. Brooke shifted as I joined their chair-less center table. She was putting enough distance between us to show everyone she was independent yet close enough to give warning signs to other woman that I was in her sights, if not her outright possession. I was better looking than Brooke had counted on. More 'fun' was coming down the pipeline. Gina was here on another date with Felix, or so she thought. Poor Gina. Felix was most likely an excellent fuck. What she didn't appreciate was that Felix was not only a competitor, he was the kind of athlete who had to win. Second place was what you called the first loser. Gina was about to be educated in this personal idiocentricity. Now that I was on stage, Felix made his move on Brooke. Gina? He'd let her in on a three-way if he was feeling personally Hernán Cortés-like. Felix had to have Brooke. I hadn't dumped Brooke, according to Gina, so he wasn't getting my castoffs; he was stealing my prize. The flaw in this plan was my whole viewpoint on monogamy. I didn't much care for it. Brooke was a grown woman and could make her own choices. Felix made his move. Damn, he was smooth. He had Brooke wrapped up and pulled tight without Gina even being aware she'd been dumped. Enter the train wreck named Nicole. She was the criminal defense attorney who I'd fucked in a stall in the women's bathroom of this place. She hadn't tried to contact me and I hadn't worried about her. Hook-ups were like that. She'd been close by, respecting Brooke's signs and not stopping by to say hello. Then Felix launched his master plan and I was suddenly freed up. Nicole had gotten a rough fucking and liked it, I could tell. "Cáel Nyilas," Nicole swooped in. "How have you been?" "The normal. Menace to society, disrespectful of authority and being annoying to random strangers," I teased. "You?" "I'm a lawyer fighting the irresistible lure of evil. The usual," she joked back. "What have you been doing wrong? As I recall, last time you were doing everything right?" Yes, a good dicking indeed. I was going to relate this encounter to Timothy just so he could shoot me with his Nerf gun. He'd shoot me anyway, but it was nice of me to give him an excuse from time to time. "I've been sending sexually suggestive letters to ADA Feinstein," I offered. "Does that count?" "Oh really?" she seemed surprised. "Why don't you come by my table real quick and let me introduce you to some of my colleagues." I wasn't going to be rude. "Gang, this is Nicole," I introduced her to my table. "She's an attorney at a prestigious law firm that probably has more dead partners than living ones and offices in Papua New Guinea and a few dozen other places you've never heard of. I'll be right back." "You are a nut," Nicole bumped me as we weaved our way to her buddies. "Ladies, this is Cáel Nyilas. I think I mentioned him once." By the looks on their faces, once had been enough. "This is Zelda, Marsha, Phyllis, and Rivka; Rivka Feinstein, ADA for New York County," (that's Manhattan for us hicks). "Ah crap," I exclaimed. That wasn't what they expected. "I confess," I looked at Nicole, "I saw the name in an article on the back of the Village Voice. Sadly, they had R. Feinstein and I stupidly assumed it was a guy." "Oh my God! You're gay?" Zelda and Phyllis despaired. "While my life would a whole lot easier if I was, I'm straight; not even bi-curious. My roommate, Timothy; never Tim; is and he was reading it while I was working out. It sort of stuck in my mind," I admitted. "How did my name come up in conversation?" Rivka inquired. "Cáel is a pathological liar," Nicole teased me. "Not true," I protested. "I'm allergic to excessive honesty. That's totally different." "I'd like to put you on the witness stand," Zelda gave me those bedroom eyes. "You and about a 150 other women," I groaned. "150?" Rivka choked. "Yep. The rest already know I'm guilty," I muttered. "Are you of weak moral fiber?" Phyllis joined the game. We were all having a blast. "Sorry, but no. I'm saving up for some. Currently I'm without morals; or scruples. Any suggestion which one I should purchase first?" "You are a great guy," Rivka snickered. "Why aren't you dating somebody?" "Shall we revisit my lack of morals and scruples?" I answered. "So you are a player?" Nicole nudged me. She wanted to play alright. "How to put this; I'm a wonderful lover and a lousy boyfriend," I told them. "I was an eighteen year old virgin. In the past four years, I have betrayed every woman I've ever dated, save one; my first love," I explained. "Why didn't you betray her?" Phyllis prodded. "Don't tell me she's dead." "No, she's fine," I replied. "She was the one who told me to date other women." "That's harsh," Zelda commiserated. She thought Kimberly had dumped me. "Oh no," I corrected her. "We stayed together until I graduated last month. Four of the best years of my life. When she told me to date other women it was because I was killing her. I have a voracious sexual appetite and she was desperate for a full night's sleep." "Do you ever go home alone?" Marsha joined in. "Does leaving a woman's house at 1 a.m. count?" I requested. "Did she throw you out?" Rivka interrogated. "No. She and her sister were exhausted so I picked up my roommate and left," I exaggerated. "Wait!" Nicole held up her hand. "Sisters; and you told us your roommate was gay?" "Morals and scruples," I repeated. "See, I was dating one sister and the other sister wanted a date so I talked my gay roommate into being my wingman so I wouldn't end up sleeping with them both. It didn't work out so well. The second, older sister was horny, so my guy pretended to pass out." "Have you ever considered you are a horrible person?" Marsha studied me. "Yes. Not only have I thought about, I've been told that a few dozen times. It usually is accompanied by 'I'm going to kill you', or 'you had better make it up to me'." "Have you ever been hurt?" Phyllis appeared concerned. "My body is a roadmap of poor decision making," I responded. "What was the worst thing to ever happen to you?" Rivka grinned. Her ability to be deceptively pretty had to have made her a frightening lawyer. "When they were happening, I was a bit more concerned with what might happen to me as opposed to rating them," I informed her. "Except for being shot with an arrow, being chased around naked with a hot poker and having my bed dowsed with lighter fluid while I was still in it were probably the worst," I nodded. "I've been stabbed a few times, tasered, occasionally thrown out of a window not on the first floor and had bookcase dropped on me once, so I consider myself a connoisseur of ex-girlfriend vengeance." "Have you ever been involved with a police proceeding?" Rivka became a tad bit more intense. "Nah," shook my head. "I had it coming. As you said, I'm kind of a horrible guy." "Domestic violence is no joking matter," Nicole also became serious. "That's unfair," I countered. "I'm not so slavishly devoted to the law that I'd ruin some girl's life because I was a total bastard." "Domestic Violence laws are supposed to protect the innocent from the abusive," I added. "I haven't lied to you about my misadventures, but you should understand I chose to handle most of my problems myself. By the looks on your faces, you are about as disappointed in me as the policewoman I am currently seeing. This is who I am and I'm not going to apologize for it." "Mind you, I'm not some gun-toting, roughneck Libertarian," I clarified. "I believe in law, order and the justice system. If someone pulls out an AK-47 on me at a corner bodega, I'm making 9-1-1 my bitch on speed-dial. I don't want to be a hero, or fulfill my organ donor card. I just don't equate that to a girl kneeing me in the nuts because I slept with her best friend in her lingerie." There was a pause as the ladies looked around. They were making an assessment of how much trouble I'd cause versus how much fun I would be. They all smiled at me. They always do. "Who was wearing the lingerie?" Zelda smirked. "I've worn women's lingerie before, but it really wasn't my thing," I mused. "I'll go through a lot for good sex," I winked. "It was my girlfriend's lingerie on her best friend." "Wait," Rivka noted. "Didn't the best friend know you were dating the first girl?" "Yeah. I'm not sure why that never stops them," I shrugged. "Around the fifth time I stopped worrying about it." "Wow, do you have any idea how many women you've been with?" Rivka asked. "Do you always use protection?" Phyllis piled on. "Yes; 223 as of Friday. I'm hoping to break 300 before work replaces me with those guys from 'Hamster Dance'," I told them. "And yes, I always use protection." "I may not know where my partner has been, but I know where I've been and it scares me," I snickered. "That's why I always carry ten." "Ten?" Nicole snorted. "Do you regularly check the expiration date, or are you that ambitious?" "Ambitious? I'd carry more except it's hard to hide more than ten in a wallet; I've tried," I sighed. "Have you ever run out?" Marsha snickered. Our snickering, chuckling and laughter were drawing stares. "Run out? Hell, I've gone door to door in a women's dormitory at 2 a.m. trying to find some," I related. "Ran into an old girlfriend doing that." I slipped into a dreamy smile. "Why do I think that despite it being 2 a.m. in her dorm with you seeking a condom for use with a different woman, she wasn't pissed?" Rivka giggled. "Oh God no," I waved off. "She was freaking furious. That was some of the most intense 'I'm lonely and it's all your fault' sex I have ever been through." "You have names for different kinds of sex?" Nicole was almost crying from laughing so hard. "Oh yeah. The first time I run across a different sexual experience, I slap a name on it so when it happens again, I know what to do," I explained. "Isn't every woman unique?" Zelda sniffled. "That sounds nice in a love song, but 'no'," I smiled. "Women, and men, have a finite number things; needs and responses. Women can have different erogenous zones, but there all on the human body. Admittedly, it can be a bit like predicting the weather at times. It is not a perfect system by any means." "What's my 'thing' then?" Nicole taunted. She didn't think I could do it. "Sex has to be an accomplishment with you, Nicole," I informed her. "You need to be engaged mentally as much as anything else. You need a poet who runs marathons. Otherwise you end up staring at the ceiling after sex wondering what better use you could have made of your time." Silence. That was the norm for that kind of revelation. Women hated to be laid bare. They hated being misunderstood even more. "Nicole?" Rivka prodded her friend. Nicole remained silent. I knew that look. "Nicole, I'm bad news. Wouldn't you prefer to keeps thing simple?" I hoped. I was wrong to hope. I kept praying they would go 'hey, great, mindless sex; let's not blow it', but they never did. I hated giving lame erotic encounters, despite the guarantee of anguish that always followed. "We could go out on a date and see how that works?" Nicole offered. Doom. "Cáel Nyilas; I'm in the book and I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments," I stupidly replied. "You probably have a killer workload were as I spot-check children's toys for WMDs. Give me a call when you have a night free." How was it going to turn out? Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex; let's make a commitment; you cheating fuck-nut! I hate you. Girls weren't predictable; I was. "Cáel, we are going out to dinner, if you remember who you are supposed to be with," Libra seethed as she and the others passed Nicole's table. "Yup, gotta go where I'm not wanted. Nice seeing you again, Nicole," I grinned. "Ladies, I hope it was a pleasure. It was for me. Good night." Dinner; was; bad. Felix, hemorrhoid that he was, squashed Gina's feeble attempts to draw him back to her as he made crystal clear that he was taking Brooke home; to fuck her into Paradise; instead of letting her go home with me. Problem being; Brooke wasn't mine to take; never had been. For the first time in his life, I thought Brian was about to be screwed. Libra was past uber-bitchy by the fifth glass of wine. Brian held a pair of Jokers and thought he was the boss, like always. Libra had four Queens and would be screaming my name when she orgasmed; Brian was sexually proficient. He was also a misogynist, I was now sure, and Libra was going to make him squeal. Then she was going to grab up her clothes, storm out of Brian's place and never want to talk with him again. It wasn't that I was that unforgettable. I was that I knew what she wanted and had given it to her and not getting it Saturday afternoon while Brooke did was frosting her ass. What did that mean for me? For the first time in a long, long time, I was pissed with another guy. Trent really wasn't worth my time, but Felix was about to cross my here-until-now unforeseen line of what guys did to girls. It was dawning on me that this was the result of me. Someone was doing something wrong to a girl because of me. It wasn't my fault. Felix was being a jerk. That would be of cold comfort for Brooke. We split up after dinner. I didn't have the heart to pick up Gina, who was easy prey right then. It was too much like what Felix thought he was doing to me. I took a cab to Havenstone, changed clothing and biked home. I barely had dinner ready for Timothy when he came through the door. "That's not a look I'm used to seeing," he remarked. "I should have beaten someone up," I frowned, "but I didn't and now some girl; Brooke; is going to have her heart kicked because of it." "Was it something you did?" Timothy asked. "No. There is this guy at work who is using her to alpha-dog me," I muttered. "Brooke?" Timothy was confused. "You hardly like her. What a sleaze (Felix). If it was Odette, first I'd slap you around for still being here. Then we'd go get him." "I'm not even sure why I feel bad about this," I grunted. "As you said, I hardly like her." "It is called a conscience, Dimwit," Timothy snorted. That didn't help much. Conscience? Man, I'd stop my bike to run across a highway to move a tortoise off the road. I used to feed some of the Bolingbrook wild hares during the winter. I did humiliating crap for charity. I was never mean to a girl; only dishonest and unfaithful. Introspection got me nowhere. I was a cad. I'd been happy to be a cad for four years. I was going to be damned if my post-college life was going to be any different; all 68 remaining days of it. In my bedroom I discovered Odette had moved in during my absence. I doubted Timothy had been ignorant of all the stuff she deposited. What was going on with my life? I woke up when I heard keys in the door. It was a bit past eleven. I got up to check and sure enough, it was Odette. Timothy had given her a key. Odette had lived through a harrowing night, her boss was a dick and some of the customers were pure hell. I cuddled with her on the sofa while she unwound then we went to bed together. We didn't have sex; (Tuesday) Around 1 a.m. I miraculously found myself awake and alert in bed. Odette was happily dreaming away. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind. I put a name to the emotion and a face to the fear. I called Brooke. "Hey Brooke," I greeted her eight tries later. She was tired of sending me to voice mail. "What do you want?" she answered in a voice devoid of soul. "Fuck if I know," I replied. "I suddenly woke up from a sound sleep thinking of you." "I'm not interested," she sighed. "I'm going to go out on a limb here. You don't want to talk to anyone yet you want someone to help you understand what you are going through," I gambled. That created a tiny tear in her shroud of depression. After five minutes, I got her to give me her address. She told me she wouldn't answer the door. I told her I at least had to try. That got me to her place, 90 seconds of knocking got me inside and four minutes later, we were lying in bed with her sobbing on my chest. Half an hour later, she offered me sex. I told her to stop tempting me and if she only wanted me for sex, I wanted to be paid in chocolate. She giggled, took a few deep breaths and fell to sleep. Wow, I was in two different women's beds in one night and not having sex in either. My watch alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. That meant no 'Marilyn' call tonight. "Mmm;” Brooke moved toward wakefulness. "Work?" "Afraid so," I yawned. "We haven't had sex," he reminded me. I couldn't stop being me. "That's not why I came over here, Brooke," I rolled onto my side so that our bodies were very close. "Never think I don't want to have sex with you, but that's not why I showed up last night," I continued. "Why did you show up then?" she worried. "I have no clue. I'm like Felix; a player. Listen Brooke, I don't consider you my woman," I stated. "We had sex; we are lovers, but we've been thrown together by dire misfortune, not out of any common thread," I reminded her. "I don't expect you to have any sense of loyalty to me." That phrase freed her up philosophically. That meant she could fuck me and not feel obliged to consider and discard any future for us because there was no realistic future that socially glued us into any acceptable form. "So I needed a shoulder to cry on and you showed up," she mused. "Brooke, you are independent and strong-willed. The next guy you chose will be your choice," I led her along. "Felix though; Felix is a serious player and he felt the need to add you to his list of conquests. I saw it happening and did nothing. Now I feel like crap for sitting back and ignoring the consequences." "You knew Felix would turn me into a hash mark?" Brooke seemed depressed, not angry. "I knew he was trying to get at me," I confessed. "He didn't accept that you and I aren't an item. A blonde co-worker; a high ranking supervisor actually; treated him like a bug in the communal showers yesterday while keeping close contact with me. Felix had to win. He had to show me he is the top dog." "And I was the prize?" Brooke moped. "Not to me," I whispered. Brooke looked hurt. "You are a woman. While you would look delectable in a big red ribbon, that's not who you are. I don't keep hash marks. I have a thing called a heart cord and it is solely for my use. Each binding represents a liaison; like a Quipus; an Incan memory knot." Brooke really didn't care. It sounded neat, it was romantic and the act was not demeaning to her. I could savor the memory of our encounter as long as I didn't share it with my buddies. She wasn't one of 'those' girls. "You are very intelligent," she murmured seductively. She didn't care if I was the reincarnation of Benjamin Franklin, or some schmo in Afghanistan who made his living digging up (hopefully) spent ordinance of battlefields. Smoking hot, sexy, well-educated debutantes like Brooke could fuck finely-sculpted, 'smart' guys like me. She could delude herself that I was rapidly upwardly mobile. My turn. "Brooke, I don't want to get mixed up about us," I evaded. 'Us'? There was no 'us' and we both knew it. "If I caved in right now, I'm not sure I could forgive myself." Yes I could. "I just want to feel like someone gives a damn about me," Brooke whimpered. Good acting. We wrestled around; me trying to leave, but clearly not wanting to, while she physically enticed me. We ended up, me on top, pinning her wrists to either side of her head. Her legs were trapped between mine. "Make it up to me; please," she pouted. She humped her pelvic bone playfully against my cock. "I know you want to help me out." Good word usage on her part. "Brooke, this isn't going to happen," I gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, it was going to happen. Her right leg began exerting steady pressure against my 'weak' left leg. It slowly 'surrendered' to her advance. Now she had on leg on the outside. My right leg held out a little longer yet Brooke was persistent. Now she could ground her finely groomed landing strip against my pulsating rod. I really, really wanted to fuck her now. I took my hands off her wrists, turned them into fists and placed the beneath each of her underarms. "Damn you," I cursed her. Brooke was gyrating her crotch all over mine. With her hands released, Brooke could leverage her body up and trap my cockhead between her labia. They were thoroughly soaked with her honey so after my 'capture' she drew more and more of my length in until I was completely incased. Brooke had won! She knew she'd won. Fuck Felix and his hash marks. I didn't care so why should she? I made on last energetic yet futile effort to get away. Oddly, Brooke somehow end on top at the end of my exertion. I must be an awful wrestler; "No you don't," Brooke purred only millimeters from my lips. "You are not getting away." That was Brooke tossing good ole Felix under the emotional bus. Felix the Player? She'd chalk it up to too much to drink and the hype being more than the man. How was this possible? Look at her. She'd thrown a known sexual dynamo down on her bed and was working his shaft over every G-spot in her vagina. Brooke still preferred a long, rough fucking to get her off. At the moment, she need reassurance more. Felix most assuredly made Brooke ride him. He kept her perpendicular to his hips and came up to suckle her teats when he wanted to, or watch them bounce as he lay back. He was great at sex, no doubt. The girl had to scream and howl; forgetting every other male she was ever with and making every other guy she'd be with later an automatic failure. To him, that was how he rated success. This resulted in me keeping Brooke close so I could make quick kisses to her very close lips. She'd playfully pull away; to put me in my place and remind me she was in charge; then she'd initiate the kiss. Our love-making was more rhythmic; less frantic. She was getting close. "Next; next time you fuck Felix," I gasped. "Tell him; " "What makes; makes you think I'd; every sleep with him; again?" Brooke got feisty. "I bet he was good in bed and now that you have his measure," I assured her. "You can take what pleasure you want and leave." Brooke liked that. It was the whole independent woman thing. "Won't you be jealous?" she panted. "I cannot constantly keep up with your sexual desires, Brooke," I grunted. "I've been neglecting Libra." Oh yeah, Libra. The girl she, Brooke, initially set me up with. Her Vassar classmate. "What about Felix," she huffed and huffed. She was real close. "Off-handedly comment that he's developing male pattern baldness," I grinned. "Just to fuck with his head." Felix was gorgeous. Better yet, Felix knew he was gorgeous. Hit him where it hurts. Brooke tried to giggle, but the surge of triumph overcame her and off she went. The problem was I was getting close and I didn't have a condom on. "Brooke," I inhaled deeply. She'd come to rest on my chest. "I'm about to; " "Oh," she sighed happily. She reversed to the side as she slithered down my body. My cock went down her throat and I started petting her flank. Brooke wasn't the very best, but, man o man, she was going to town on my dick. There was no doubt in my mind that her vaginal secretions didn't bother her. I had to rush the experience because if I was late to work, Constanza make me stand beside the targets while she shot at them. If she was really pissed, she'd have me hold up targets in front me instead. I shot off, Brooke caught it all in her mouth then spit it into two tissues before tossing them in the trash. I caught her look. Trent and now Felix made her swallow. I didn't care; which was yet another choice Brooke was free to make when making love to me. I jumped her. We had a little, tickle-nibble fight that ended in some kisses. I had to leave and Brooke made sure she was poised extra-sexy the last time I turned around to say goodnight and cut off the lights. "Ah damn," I moaned before I left. I didn't really like Brooke yet, by choosing to engage her in sex, I had accepted the task of making her happy. That was the reason Felix and I were going to fight. He'd use another human being to strike at me instead striking at me directly. To me, this was more than low character, it was an insult to my lifestyle. Felix should have checked his baggage at the door. Competing for the same lady was fine; even fun. Picking one to punish another; not cool. I had to think about my response as I barely made it in for my Constanza time. Wisely, I left my baggage at the door. These were firearms we were dealing with; a danger to me and the people around me. I was in my biking outfit today. More looks. The decision was that I'd go for my Glock-22, a 38 Ruger LCR back-up, a South Korean-made shotgun that looked like an M-16 and a very unhealthy looking device called a Heckler  and  Koch UMP 40 (which I had never even heard of). Wait; it got worse. I was scheduled for knife fighting training at 3 p.m.; every day for the foreseeable future. Constanza didn't w

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

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Juan toured 'The World' and has come back to educate us.The highlight of episode #459 of 'Musings' is the recounting of a unique experience aboard "The World," a private residential ship. Juan shares insights from a day spent with John Demartini, including the exclusive nature of the ship and the type of individuals who reside there. The conversation explores the concept of living on such a vessel, the networking opportunities it presents, and the lifestyle it offers to its residents. Maybe we can manifest an apartment there one day.Huge thanks to Cole McCormick & Petar for their support! Connect with Mere Mortals:Website: https://www.meremortalspodcast.com/Discord: https://discord.gg/jjfq9eGReUTwitter/X: https://twitter.com/meremortalspodInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/meremortalspodcast/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@meremortalspodcastValue 4 Value Support:Boostagram: https://www.meremortalspodcast.com/supportPaypal: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/meremortalspodcast

We are back, with episode 2 or 3 this week. This episode is all about Flophouse Wrestling's Bad Mother Fucker. BMF takes place night 1 of RPW's KOTK 2 weekend this Friday August 23rd! This is an episode you do not want to miss! For all things PWE visit our social media pages @pwepod and our merch store https//brainbustertees.com/other/pro-wrestling-edge/. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/pro-wrestling-edge/support

Download for later Watch on Youtube In this episode: RILFs, video game pet names, big things, vinegar, cryptids, Metroid Prime and Devolver Digital. Taking part: Mitch, Cats, Moogle, Specs and Wooly. 00:00 – Intro and RILFs 20:00 – Video game pet names 33:00 – Bookclub discussion of Metroid Prime 1:01:10 – 1001 uses for vinegar […]

Have you seen Meet all the Parents movies? Us either. On this week's Patreon join us for a chat about Shakespear vs. Johnny Cash. To listen and watch the full episode and support the pod, head over to our Patreon page at https://patreon.com/whatagreatpunkFree Palestine!Sign up to our Patreon for a bonus pod each week (that's double the pod!) and other VIP stuff for just $5 a month:https://patreon.com/whatagreatpunkJoin us all in the TNSW Discord community chathttps://tnsw.co/discordWatch our Comedy Central mockumentary series and TNSW Tonight! on YouTube:https://youtube.com/thesenewsouthwhalesTNSW on Spotify:https://open.spotify.com/artist/0srVTNI2U8J7vytCTprEk4?si=e9ibyNpiT2SDegTnJV_6Qg&dl_branch=1TNSW: @thesenewsouthwhalessJamie: @mossylovesyouTodd: @mrtoddandrewshttps://patreon.com/whatagreatpunkhttps://thesenewsouthwhales.comShout-outs to the Honorary Punks of the Pod:Harry WalkomHugh FlassmanZac Arden BrimsClaireJimi KendallEdmund SmithLachy TanDerrotonin69Adjoa Sam

WELCOME TO THE MISTRESS MIA'S DUNGEON SHOW! MIA AND BARBIE ARE TALKING ABOUT BARBIE BEING A REAL MAN HATER.. LET US ENLIGHTEN YOU, FUCKER. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/mistress-mia8/support

Nas is on the dating apps, Marshall gets drafted into the trash pickers union, and OK gets called a dirty hippie

Ready to learn about the maladaptive tendencies of your most difficult relational partners? When we don't believe we're "entitled" to a need or emotion, we vent it into (unwise) action. Let's discuss the immature cognitive patterns we/others may still be utilizing to keep our brains "safe." We'll cover the lowest level self-defense mechanisms: Acting Out, Help-Rejecting Complaining, and Passive Aggression. Want to learn a lot more about these SDMs? Check the patreon page, where we're talking about each one in depth! Next up: Image-splitting and Object Projection. Toot Toot, all aboard Fuckers. Cheers!

We've learned that narcs don't generally recover because of their "creative narration" abilities. Now, let's talk about some of the ways they spin those stories. Today, we start our examination of self-defense mechanisms by looking at the purposes of Intellectualization and Rationalization. Then, we ask the question: SO HOW SMART ARE THEY? And discuss the distinct Thought Processing limitations of both Grandiose and Vulnerable Narcissists. Want the full story? Find the longform episodes on these topics at patreon.com/traumatizedmotherfuckers or check the new subscription stream on Spotify for all recent releases in video form, right on your favorite streaming app! Good to speak to you like a human again... And Cheers, Fuckers!