Podcasts about Goddamn

Chapter 1: How can Tim Miller's blue balls get some relief?By LiminallySpaced. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.It was a Sunday morning, and my cock was hard in my hand. As an eighteen year old virgin, the strength of my erections was never in doubt, but their frequency was becoming distracting, to say the least. Hard when I went to sleep, hard when I woke up, hard at various impractical points throughout the day, my hormones were in a constant cascade down from my brain to my dick, swelling up my balls and begging to be released in an explosion of hot, white, euphoria.As warm water showered down my body, I worked toward that release. Eyes closed tight as I stroked up and down, my mind tried to organize the overwhelming stimulus it took in on a daily basis as a horned-up high school senior. Lori's cleavage when she bent over to pick up her pen, the way Tara's tight gym shorts framed her perfect ass, Michele's lips and tongue running over the tip of her pen while deep in thought. my cock screamed at me, throbbing, egging me on like my own personal drug dealer, pushing me to imagine how these young women, my classmates, my friends, might act if they were with me right now, their bodies consumed by the same fire as mine, and what depraved things they might do to reach their own satisfaction.But as I raced down the final straightaway toward ultimate pleasure, my mind's fantasies landed in the same place it always did. Instead of my hand sliding up and down my cock I envisioned a mane of fiery red hair bobbing back and forth, lips, tongue and hands touching me, sucking me, desperate to pull my climax out of my body. Then, right as I was approaching the edge, the mental image became the emerald green eyes of my next door neighbor Sarah looked up at me, her large, firm breasts pressed together by her arms as both hands pumped my shaft and kneaded my balls. Her breath was as labored as mine, her eyes burned with the fire of wanton lust. We both knew what was coming, and she wanted it, needed it, as badly as I did. Sarah's hands, lips and tongue coaxed me closer and closer. My balls churned, coiling tight, my breath got ragged, and then time seemed to stop as Sarah placed the trembling purple head of my cock on her bottom lip, stared me right in the eye, and whispered.Alexa Ruins My Moment"Hey, I'm coming in!" My eyes burst open, hand off my cock and quickly closing the gap in the shower curtain as I angled my rapidly deflating dick away from the bathroom door. The abrupt entrance of my step-sister Alexa snapped me right back to reality, instantly sending me lightyears away from that glorious precipice of pleasure."You know it doesn't really work if you knock, after, you open the door.""Eh, get over it, I wasn't looking, and besides, you've been in here for like half an hour. Other people need to use the bathroom in the morning too, you know!" Alexa was a bit older than me, and you'd think college would have taught her some new manners about sharing a communal space, but any tact she might have learned fell away as soon as she came home for a weekend, a holiday, or in this case spring break.I always used to lock the bathroom, automatically, but  when Alexa went off to college, I got out of the habit. That's going to changed immediately. "Why are you even up this early? You guys were out until like 2 am last night," I challenged my intruding stepsister."Stephanie and I are going on a bit of a road trip today, so we wanted to get a jump on things," Alexa said as she sat pissing in the toilet. I was just an arm's reach from her, only veiled by a cheap white vinyl shower curtain; But I stood there petrified by fear. Fear of Alexa's complete disregard of my privacy.Girls on the prowlAlexa was out Saturday night with her friend, Stephanie. Stephanie & her parents lived in our upstairs rented-out apartment. Stephanie and Alexa had been inseparable for as long as I could remember. As a night owl myself, I had heard them stumble home late many nights, and last night was no different. Straining cock in my hand, the sound of the closing front door, along with hushed whispers and giggles as they walked by my room, triggered momentary mid-masturbation paranoia. I froze in silence, mid-stroke, to make sure I gave no indication of what I was doing, but the pressure in my cock never abated. In that moment my horned-up mind wandered to Stephanie, a tall volleyball player with long toned legs and more than enough tits. Last night, as I surfed porn at 2 in the morning, I heard her footsteps coming down the hall. I wondered where she'd been. Had she sucked someone's dick? Had she swallowed their cum? My cock throbbed.Once I heard her bedroom door close, I thought the coast was clear & I started back up again. Thoughts of Stephanie lingered, and as I timed my orgasm to the cumshot clip I watched on my computer, in my mind's eye it was Stephanie's face I saw, mouth open in a slight smile, happily splattered in white.Just as the blast of cream abated, Alexa interrupted from the hallway; “What are You doing up so late?”"Nothing, just watching a movie."Her languid response of "Um Hmm" said she didn't believe me, but wasn't going to push it."Well just hurry up and finish, huh? You know mom hates it when you're late for church.” Her tone implied a double meaning.Back to this morning's shower.I heard the toilet lid close, followed by a strong flush. “Damn it!”  The sudden blast of scalding water led to my frantic overcompensation on the shower knobs, causing  my cock getting a blast of ice cold ‘therapy.'  I finally got the mix adjusted, but as I looked down at my now totally flaccid penis and frustratingly full balls, I knew the only thing being finished right now was my shower. I rinsed, turned off the water, and stepped out.As I toweled off, my mind drifted to all the things I had coming up in the next few months. After tucking in my towel around my waist, I opened the bathroom door to abate the steam, so I could eventually check my hair in the mirror. I brushed my teeth while thinking about things like finding a prom date, making sure my summer job was set up, and getting ready for college in the fall.As I went through the rest of my morning toiletry routine, several thoughts meandered through my head, but I was brought back to earth as my gaze fell on the bathroom window. The blinds were inexplicably drawn up so that this small window looked directly at Sarah's bedroom window, and as the fog cleared from the glass, it revealed the beautiful redhead whose lips I had just minutes ago been fantasizing were sliding up and down my cock. There she was, almost topless, with only a sheer black underwire bra shielding her perfect breasts from my eyes.She moved around her room casually, looking for a top for the day, but I froze. I'd caught a glimpse of her puttering around in her room from time to time over the years, but usually it was as a silhouette through curtains, and always fully clothed. Her curtains must have been broken now, as this was a straight shot right into her bedroom, the morning sun illuminating her pale cleavage like a beacon.I flicked off the bathroom light, shut the door, & clicked the lock. Standing there in the dark room, I could see Sarah, but all she saw was a screened dark bathroom window.Sarah and I were friendly, but I don't know if I'd say we were friends. We had lived only feet from each other for many years, and had grown up going to school together, but we never really traveled in the same social circles. Regardless, as the years went by she developed into the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I was just too petrified by her beauty, and my own inexperience, to really do anything about it. Outgoing but private, I had no idea if she had a boyfriend, a girlfriend or what. My hormone-addled brain was dying to know her sexual history, and I had spent many nights imagining all its details for my own pleasure.I felt the blood start to return to my cock, but another impatient knock on the door from Alexa snapped me out of it.“Use the other bathroom,” I yelled in a defiant tone. When I looked back, Sarah had gone, and instinctually my hand sprung to close the blinds, not wanting anyone to be privy to the magic portal I had just discovered.The image of those busty, freckled tits stayed fresh in my mind as I got dressed. I wondered what her nipples tasted like. What her tits would feel like wrapped around my cock. How slowly my cum would slide down between them. Jesus I just wish I had cum in the shower. I really needed to snap out of this.The smell of bacon brought me back to earth as I entered the kitchen. I looked toward the stove and saw another lovely sight; two long, athletic legs leading up to the shortest shorts humanly imaginable. Inside those shorts was an apple of an ass, and above that, a tight, spaghetti-strap tank top covered a long, tight back leading up to a messy bun of dirty blonde hair, with headphones on each ear.. The whole package gyrated slowly to a song only she could hear as she made herself breakfast. The blood once again started its pilgrimage to my cock."Hey, neighbor," I greeted Stephanie as I opened the fridge door in an attempt to hide my arousal."Oh, hey, Timmy!" she said as she whirled around to greet me. She knew I hated the name Timmy, but she never passed up a chance to tease me. It was clear when she turned around, that she had stayed the night, as her nipples were clearly visible through the tight fabric of the tank top. As the only man in the house, and not much of a threat at that, Stephanie was always very relaxed when she was here, which meant she had no problem hanging around in whatever she slept in. Alexa would usually follow suit, and their sleepovers generally meant a parade of unfettered tits and nipples covered only by the thinnest of garments. This was both heaven and hell for any boy my age. Even now my eyes couldn't help but lock in on her perfect tits, and she caught me staring before I could look away."Are you staring at my tits, Timmy?" she said with a wry smile. I scrambled and focused on something else to cover my ogling."Nah, I'm staring at that hickey on your uh, chest. You fall asleep on the vacuum again?""Very funny," she chuckled, "I bet you'd love to know where I got it, wouldn't you, perv?" It was true. I blew it off and tried to seem cool, but goddamn it was true. The little deep red mark peeked out from the hem of her tank top, on the inside of her right breast and it was driving me mad. Did she get it last night? Did she get it. from Alexa?I'd never seen Stephanie with a boyfriend, and due to all the time the 2 girls spent together, I naturally wondered if Stephanie and Alexa were a little more than just friends. Stephanie's upstairs unit was laid out fairly similar to ours, so her bedroom was right above mine, which meant I could hear loud music and girlish giggles pulse through the floor every time they hung out. Then one night, when it was extra quiet, the sounds of faint moaning snuck their way through the floorboards, in through my ears, and directly down to my dick. I was too shocked to do anything but sit there with an intense hard on; Alexa wasn't home; was she up there with Stephanie? Did she have those long legs wrapped around my step-sister's head? The fact that I was over hearing something so personal, made it taboo and voyeuristic, and hot as hell. I tried to keep the incident out of my mind, but when I heard those sexy little whimpers trickle down a second occasion, a third, I couldn't ignore it. Sometimes Alexa was home, sometimes she wasn't, and I'd listen closely, stroking along, wondering if Stephanie was touching herself, or if Alexa was touching her, or licking her tight cunt, or even if that tight cunt was wrapped around a hard cock. I'd match her intensity, getting faster and faster as she lost control, until the sexiest sound a woman can make freed itself from her mouth in a unique short-short-long pattern of ecstasy, and I would cum so hard I almost blacked out."Have fun on your trip," I managed to choke out through a suddenly dry mouth. I grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and went on my way. Today had been quite the test already, so heading off to church with my step-mom seemed like a great way to get my mind out of the gutter.Or so I thought.Despite working a dangerous job being a cop, my dad was never really one for religion. Neither was Kelly, my step mother, at least not until the night dad got injured in the line of duty. He passed away after two weeks in a coma, but Kelly's prayers never stopped. She found a great church shortly after we lost him, and the community of parishioners helped her, helped all of us, through a very difficult time. Alexa stopped going once she went off to college, but I continued to go with Kelly every week I could. I don't know if I believed any of it, but I knew me being there was soothing for Kelly, so I did it to make her feel good. I also did it because I missed my dad, and sometimes it really did help. One of the perks as well was a great youth ministry that introduced me to new kids from different nearby towns.When I arrived, late as always; I was greeted by a warm smile and a discreet wave from the pastor's daughter, Christine. A cute brunette Italian girl, with a sexy, smokey voice, I had developed a crush on her almost immediately. She had a style that was conservative, but definitely not prudish, a tantalizing dichotomy that was on full display the first summer we met. Big, baggy t-shirts would hang loose, revealing little form, while also giving just the slightest suggestion of the small, perky tits underneath. Below were short shorts, revealing long, strong legs formed by years of running track, and skin that seemed to have a warm, perpetual tan regardless of the season.A kind heart with a beautiful soul, Christine welcomed me into the church's youth social scene immediately and we became fast friends. I say emphasize friends, because I quickly learned Christine had a long time boyfriend named Eric. Eric was a good guy, but he wasn't a church goer, much to her father's dismay, and it was a source of much struggle for Christine as well. Having one foot in the godly world and one foot in the secular world can be very confusing, especially at our age. You see, despite being the pastor's daughter, Christine was still a red-blooded, 18 year old girl with wants and needs that boiled hot and furious just like everyone else. Christine trusted and confided in me, and while she never went into detail, I knew the pastor's daughter was doing SOMETHiNG sinful with her boyfriend; I just didn't know exactly what. This made my imagination run wild, but she was my friend, and doing her best to stay a good Christian girl, so I tried to ignore those thoughts as much as possible. I didn't always succeed.After the service my eyes scanned the congregation as everyone milled about. They fell on a face I hadn't seen in quite a while; a face that sent a slight tingle straight to my painfully full balls; Rachel. Tall, with long, strawberry blonde hair, Rachel was definitely what would be called thicc. Cute and innocent-looking with big doe eyes, Rachel by far had the biggest tits I'd seen of any girl my age. Sturdy bras held up her two talents while a tasteful sundress gave a hint of deep cleavage, and hung off the crest of a plump ass and thick thighs. Another longtime friend of mine, Rachel and her family belonged to two churches, so It was a rare treat to see her in person. To the casual onlooker it wouldn't seem like she and I had much of a relationship, as we generally didn't do much more than a smile and wave or a quick hello, but she and I actually had a very lively online relationship that saw us talking digitally almost every day. We'd chat about everything and anything as two teenagers growing up in the world. I enjoyed talking to her, but things never got particularly saucy. I'd complain about girls and she'd humor my grumblings, but when it came to Rachel and boys, there didn't seem to be much there to talk about. She was very clear she was saving her virginity for marriage, and that's generally where things would end. Even so, there was many a night where after one of our long digital conversations I'd massage my cock to completion, while wondering what she did with those magnificent, innocent tits when she was all alone.Making a bee line for me through the crowd now was Christine. After a big hug we chatted a bit, but I could tell something was off. It was a normal routine for Christine and I to take a drive and hang out after church, so we said our quick goodbyes, hopped in my car, and headed off to get milkshakes. Sitting in the parking lot, I decided to try and get to the bottom of what was bothering my friend."So what's up? You're being awfully quiet." I glanced over at her, taking note of her outfit. Today she was wearing a nice tasteful blouse, but her legs were on full display, reaching out from beneath a knee length skirt, which I noticed was currently bunched up tantalizingly at mid-thigh."It's nothing, it's just," she paused, shifting her legs together nervously,"it's just, Eric. Well, actually, it's really me.""Go on," I said, watching her pick the hem of her skirt."I'm just worried about what comes next. For us, Eric and me. College starts soon and we're going to be so far away from each other, and I'm. I'm worried there's not enough, you know, incentive to keep a long distance thing going."I thought I had a feeling where this was going."You mean you think because you're not having sex with him he'll find greener grass somewhere else?""Well, sort of, I mean. Can I; can I tell you something?" She started to blush."Of course," I said. My cock twitched."Well, Eric and I. we've always tried to keep each other. satisfied. but a couple of times it's just. the heat just got too much to bear, and we. had sex.""Oh no way!" I said, trying to play it cool while secretly my mind started racing. I shifted to hide my growing erection as any previous attempt to keep my thoughts of Christine chaste were instantly gone. I imagined her on her hands and knees, that tasteful skirt bunched up around her waist with her hot ass in the air, moaning in ecstasy as her tight, proper cunt got stuffed with a hot, throbbing cock. My fantasy was short-lived however."Yeah, only a couple times, because honestly. I just really couldn't enjoy it. He was a total gentleman and all, but the whole time I couldn't stop thinking that I was doing something wrong; something bad. And not in a hot way." My dick was deflating as I listened to my friend's legit crisis. "I was so uncomfortable every time, we could never really get going, and he wouldn't even. you know. cum."My cock twitched with life again slightly. Even though this wasn't a sexy situation, I couldn't help but note the hotness of hearing the pastor's daughter talk about cum."And so you're worried that he's going to get to college and find a girl who's not uncomfortable about it and forgets about you?""Actually no, I'm worried about me. I'm worried that this is my body telling me I'm not with the right person, and that I need to be with someone more; godly."Now don't get ahead of yourself, she wasn't talking about me; she knows I'm not much more than a weekend warrior for Christ, and this was something that was clearly weighing on her quite heavily. The sins of the flesh were bringing her to a serious cross road, and she had some hard decisions ahead of her."You know, one thing I know for sure is that I trust you. You've always had a great mind for my shit, and that's why I know that if you trust yourself, trust your gut, you're going to make the right decision." I assured her. She smiled that warm smile, and I thought I saw her tan thighs ever so slightly squeeze together.We finished our milkshakes, and I drove her home. Every so often I'd catch her eye and she'd smile again, as the late afternoon wind whipped her chocolate hair around in a frenzy. Before she got out, she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and said "thanks Tim. You're a good friend." I watched her sashay towards her front door, making sure to pull her skirt back down before she went in.Instant MessagesAs I drove home my mind raced again, and the tightness in my pants returned. I wasn't so much thinking of the awkward, uncomfortable sex Christine had had, but the thing she had said before that. Satisfied. They tried to keep each other satisfied? What did that mean? Was she jerking him off? Was he moaning in her ear as he spurt cum all over her hands? Had she tasted it? Had he tasted her? Was she regularly gripping the sheets and writhing around as he tongued her clit? Surely the pastor's daughter was keeping it respectable, but what was it like that first time? Maybe over-the-clothes dry humping just got so intense that they lost control. Maybe that sexy, smokey voice breathlessly cried out those two magic words. "fuck me."The stimuli of the day clouded my mind for the rest of the evening. Dinner and tv with Kelly was a blur; -all I could think about was getting upstairs and setting my blue balls free. I said goodnight to a returned Alexa, packing for her journey back to school tomorrow, headed to my room and fired up my computer. Waiting for me there was a message from Rachel. We chatted about nothing in particular for a while, and then, as the night grew later, quieter, she started to get a bit nosey."So where'd you and Christine run off to after church?" she inquired."Just went for a drive to get milkshakes; we do it almost every week.""Um Hmm; milkshakes. " Was this a little bit of sauce from Rachel?"Why, you jealous?""A little bit," she responded, "I love milkshakes. "I let it hang there, not sure how to respond. Not sure if this was innocent teasing, or if it were a double entendre from this proper, Christian girl whose family belonged to Two churches. I didn't have to wait long though as a new message popped up, changing the subject.

Du hast Lust auf die gesamte Folge und möchtest unser Projekt unterstützen? Steady -> https://steadyhq.com/de/favouriteworstcast/about Patreon -> https://www.patreon.com/favouriteworstcast Wir haben die neuesten Alben von Playboi Carti, Ikkimel, Haiyti & Gianni Suave gehört - und gerade bei letzterem nochmal eine kleine Meta-Debatte über Männlichkeit im Rap geführt. Auch der neueste Streich von Levin Liams Leaks-Reihe wird kurz angerissen und die Frage, ob und wie Selena Gomez die »brat«-Era von Charli xcx abrippt. Besonders an neuen Singles begeistert uns aber aktuell so einiges: Seien es die ersten Vorboten vom neuen Blond-Album, oder die Singles von dissy und YRRRE - auch die Fontaines D.C. haben uns mit »It's Amazing to Be Young« wieder geblesst - oder die Killer-Kombi aus Tape Head, NONI & Grim104. Goddamn! Den Abschluss machen noch ein paar von Erics Indie-Perlen mit dem entspannten »Bürotage« von Die Höchste Eisenbahn, der wütenden lovehead-Debüt-Single »denkst du an mich?« oder dem verliebten »Best Guess« von Lucy Dacus. Ach, und Mehnersmoos hat er auch noch live gesehen! Die gute Nachricht für euch: Ihr müsst einfach nur auf play drücken und bekommt all das genüsslich auf dem Silbertablett serviert, was wir in Schwerstarbeit hören, erleben und besprechen "mussten" hehehe. Nein, im Ernst: Vielen lieben Dank für den dauerhaften Support und viel Spaß mit dieser XXL-Folge des Vorgesprächs. LG Jan & Eric

From Lost In Eros – Book 1Don & Toshia escape the Manor In 10 Parts By BradentonLarry.  Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Feeling satisfied with herself, Toshia leaned back against Jason and continued to enjoy his cock and fingers. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder and a woman's voice in her ear said, “You're quite the sexy harlequin, Toshia.”Toshia turned to see a woman wearing a purple robe and a crown. She had short dark hair, full tits, which were only partially hidden by her robe, and beautiful, long legs. Before Toshia could say, “Hello, Lilith,” the other woman leaned in and kissed her warmly.Toshia knew she was obliged to now play with Lilith, and was actually quite eager to do so, but she wasn't quite done with Jason yet, so she suggested, “Join us.”Lilith kissed her again, this time longer and with more passion. Toshia's hands reached out to touch and caress Lilith's full tits. They felt heavy, soft and wonderful. When there was a break in their kiss, Toshia said, “Say hello to Jason, Lilith.”“Ah yes,” Lilith smiled, “the Lord's acolyte; I should have known.” Then she moved in to kiss Jason as warmly as she had just done with Toshia. While she did this, though, she took off her crown and put it on the bench next to Jason. Then she got up in front of Toshia, and leaned over her, putting her luscious tits in Toshia's face.Toshia, who was still riding Jason, kissed and sucked on Lilith's tits, moving from one nipple to the other and back. All the while, she was running her hands over Lilith's warm feminine body. Lilith then got on her knees in front of Toshia, and coaxed Jason's legs apart enough that she could lean in and begin to lick at his balls and Toshia's clit. An immediate shiver ran up Toshia's spine and she reached down to hold Lilith's head there.Toshia laid back on Jason as Lilith worked her tongue over Toshia's clit. Jason, meanwhile, cupped Toshia's tits in his hands, squeezing them through the thin fabric of her costume. Soon Toshia was rocking on Jason's lap, working him in and out of her, while Lilith lapped at her. She was about to come when a gentle hand touched her cheek and turned her face to the side. Ilsa, still in her angelic costume, had snuck up on her and was now kissing her deeply. With Ilsa's tongue in her mouth, Lilith's tongue on her clit, and Peter's cock in her cunt, Toshia crested into an intense orgasm; moaning and shaking.When she could collect herself, Toshia pulled off Jason and got on the bench next to him, opposite Ilsa, and the three women proceeded to take turns sucking on him. He eventually shot a geyser of cum into the air and all over their faces. The women then leisurely licked Jason's cum off him and each other. This led, naturally enough, to the three women on the floor together while Jason watched them play from the bench.Before long, Lilith was on her back as Ilsa sat on her face, while Toshia lay on her belly between Lilith's legs, tonguing her clit and working her fingers, and then her whole hand, in and out of Lilith's cunt. Toshia noticed that two women, a cheerleader and a very sexy kitten, were kneeling in front of Ilsa, each one sucking on her beautiful tits. Then, Lilith was coming in a twisting, writhing orgasm.Toshia smiled to herself and thought the night was off to a very good start.Some identities become very familiar.As he moved into the ballroom, looking for “his own amusement”, Don was a bit preoccupied with his own thoughts. He suspected that he had gotten the hang of how the Manor worked, in a limited sense, but had resolved to wait until the morning to test his hypothesis. He was troubled by the fact that he and Toshia had failed to ask Robert, the Scholar, about the watchers, but actually thought those passive figures were probably not important in the sense that they might interfere with trying to leave the Manor. Still, he tried to force these thoughts aside as he moved into the crowd of costumed partiers. He certainly did think it was a good idea to enjoy this night as if it were sure to be the last they would spend in the Manor.“I love your costume,” a woman in a Santa's helper costume laughed. Don had always harbored a secret little fetish for girls in that particular kind of costume, and this one was particularly fetching. She had long black hair hanging down over her shoulders, a spray of freckles on her cheekbones, and a nice, compact body. She was about five foot two, and seemed about the age of the Nymphets, or maybe a year or two older. In short, she was both adorable and sexy as hell. She took Don by the hand and said, “Come dance with me.”Don followed her to the dance floor where about twenty couples and at least one threesome were enjoying some rhythmic, vertical foreplay. The girl in red, white and touches of green slipped her arms around Don's neck and began to dance up against him. Don followed suit, holding her by the small of her back, though he soon reached down to lift the hem of her short skirt up to squeeze her tight ass in his hands. She smiled up at him and said, “I'm Brandy, by the way.”“I'm Don,” he said, and then leaned down to kiss her sweet lips, which tonight matched the Christmas red of her costume. She responded enthusiastically, sucking on his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. She took a moment to reach down between them, to adjust Don's rapidly hardening cock, so that it was upright between them, but then went right back to swaying in his arms as they danced and kissed.For his part, Don could have spent the next hour like this, but Brandy was less patient, and, after about ten minutes, pulled her mouth from his and said, “Let's go fuck, Don.”“Okay,” Don chuckled, still amused by the straight-forward spirit of the Manor. I'm going to miss this, he thought.Brandy led him to the nearest alcove, which fortunately wasn't too crowded yet. She sat down on the edge of the big mattress platform to the rear of the alcove, and promptly pulled Don in front of her, between her legs. Her hand was on his erection, and she pushed the bottom of his jester's top out of the way with her other hand. Without any preliminaries, she began to suck on his cock. Watching her tiny mouth with her red lipstick moving up and down on his thick shaft was incredibly erotic to Don. The fact that she was wearing a green mask and a Santa hat only seemed to add to the hotness of the situation. Her small hands were wrapped around his cock, pumping him, as she sucked on him, bobbing her head. Don had intended to hold off on his first orgasm until later, but Brandy was too good at what she was doing, and the situation was just too much of a turn on for him. He knew he couldn't hold out, and in another minute, he felt his balls tightening, and Brandy's hands were squeezing a bit harder as his cock expanded. Then he pushed forward, holding her head in place with his hands, as he came hard and long into the little woman's adorable mouth. Brandy happily swallowed every bit of his cum, and then smiled up at him.Don grinned back at her, and then said, “Now, it's my turn.” He got down on his knees between her legs and pulled her forward so that her ass was right on the edge of the platform. As he leaned in and ran his tongue over her, Brandy undid the front of her helper's top, displaying her taut belly and beautiful, round tits. While Don was moving his tongue between her lips and into her cunt, she leaned back on her elbows with that sweet smile on her face.Don held her in place as he began to gently lick at her clit. As she began to move against him, he increased the pace and the pressure. He thought that it must be a funny picture: him in his jester's costume going down on a wanton Santa's helper elf. Then things got even odder, as a pretty, masked Asian schoolgirl, complete with pigtails, crawled over to the elf on the left side and began to make out with her. The scene just screamed Penthouse photo-shoot. Of course, in this costume, Keiko reminded Don of Go-go from the first Kill Bill, though, obviously, Go-go hadn't worn a mask. Don stifled a chuckle, and continued to lick Brandy's clit, while she and Keiko kissed.When Don pushed two fingers up inside Brandy's cunt, she sighed and lay back, and Keiko moved down to kiss and tease the girl's tits. Don twisted his fingers and fucked them slowly in and out of Brandy, while lapping at her clit. Soon, she was arching her back and crying out loudly, letting everyone know that she was coming. Don sucked on her clit, until she had fallen back on the mattress and her cunt no longer clenched at his fingers. Then he slowly withdrew his hand and kissed her clit goodbye for now.Don got up onto the mattress next to Brandy on the right side, and said to Keiko, “Let's get her up a bit further.” Together, the three of them scooted Santa's helper up far enough that her legs were no longer hanging over the edge. Then, Don joined Keiko in kissing and sucking on Brandy's tits, as their hands moved up and down her lithe body. Brandy caught hold of Don's manhood, which was again very hard, and began to squeeze and pull it.Don reached down and lifted Brandy's right leg, and scooted himself under it. He let her leg down so that it was over his hip, and rested his own right leg across her left thigh. This put his cock in good position to be slipped into her waiting cunt, which, naturally enough, is exactly what Don did. He was now able to move in and out of Brandy, while using his thigh to stimulate her clit, and was free to use his right hand on her upper body. She bent her left knee a bit, which pulled his thigh tighter to her, and let him move his left leg over a bit, giving him better purchase, which in turn let him fuck her more steadily.“That looks like fun,” Keiko smiled.“It is!” Brandy said, and when Don pinched her nipple, she added, “a lot of fun!”Keiko kissed Brandy and then leaned over her to kiss Don. While Keiko was doing this, Brandy fumbled with the buttons of Keiko's shirt. Keiko obliged her by continuing to kiss Don until she felt the other woman's hands on her tits and belly. Then, Keiko moved so her tits were over Brandy's mouth, letting her kiss and suck on them. While Don was watching this, he felt a light touch on his bare ass, which moved up over his back and then around his neck, until a feminine hand was turning his head to the right. And, then he was kissing a new, unfamiliar mouth, and straight brown hair was hanging down around his face. He guessed from the way this woman was moving against him that she was probably being fucked from behind as she kissed him. When she broke the kiss to toss her head and her hair back, Don saw she was wearing a white mask and a silvery tiara, but couldn't make out much else from where he was. Turning his attention back to Brandy and Keiko, he saw that the latter was now squatting over the former's face. Brandy was holding Keiko's ass in her hands as she licked and sucked at Keiko's cunt and clit.The hair fell down into Don's face again, and he turned back to kiss the woman over him again, all the while continuing to fuck steadily in and out of Brandy, grinding his thigh against her. Then Brandy was arching her back and moaning up into Keiko. Don kept fucking her until she finished coming, and then decided it was time to change things around a bit, so he disentangled himself from Brandy's legs and pulled away. He wormed his way down along Brandy, and then sat up. He saw that he had been kissing a princess, with a diaphanous dress, who had indeed been being fucked from behind by a pirate. Don thought he had three good options here; start fucking Brandy in a missionary position, or move around in front of either Keiko or the princess. He was having a momentary problem making up his mind, when he felt a kiss on his neck and heard a woman's low voice saying, “Come play with me, Don.”Don turned and saw the tallest, most gorgeous can-can dancer he could imagine. He tried to ignore the costume and just concentrate on the beautiful long legs, exquisite face and long dark hair; it was auburn, though he hadn't been able to tell that when he saw her last, in the disco's black light room. “Martina?” he ventured.She smiled beneath her mask and said, “You gave me such a wonderful orgasm the other night; I was hoping to return the favor.”Don returned her smile and turned to her to take her into his arms, kissing her. She had his cock in her hand already, stroking and pulling it as they got reacquainted. Don was still enjoying simply kissing this stunningly beautiful creature, when Martina started to pull up the front of her skirts. Once she'd cleared them out of the way, she held the back of Don's neck and raised her leg, which he held up. Just like that, she bent his cock down and then slipped it into her already quite slippery, and very hot and tight cunt.Then, standing there with his other hand holding the small of her back, and her holding on to him for support, he began to fuck in and out of her. She smiled at him, and then they began to kiss again. Once they had their rhythm going well, she was able to reach down with one hand and stroke herself while they fucked. Don was vaguely aware that people were moving around them, and that most of them were busy having sex of their own, but he was very much focused on the woman in his arms. The standing position was so easy to maintain, he felt like they could do this for hours, though he realized she probably felt differently. Still, she seemed very comfortable.Martina soon was rubbing her clit intently as Don fucked steadily in and out of her. She broke their very long kiss, and dropped her head to his shoulder. Don kept plowing her until she was shaking and moaning in his arms. He smiled at her when she was done, and she said, “Oh, well, I seem to owe you two now.”He laughed, and lowered her leg, pulling his cock out of her. He nodded to an empty spot on the mattress, close to where Brandy and the princess were now making out and where Keiko was being taken from behind by a pirate, who may or may not have been the one who had been fucking the princess earlier; Don couldn't be sure. Martina lay back on the mattress, with her ass on the edge. Don got her legs up on his shoulders, bent his knees some, got himself back inside her, and then lifted her up until the angle was just right. Holding onto Martina's thighs, Don began to fuck deeply in and out of her. She reached down (up, actually) and began to play with herself again.Don watched her face, and the way her tits threatened to spill out of her low cut top, as he drove into her. She was smiling up at him, but, as his cock and her own fingers gradually got the better of her, her eyelids fluttered closed and her expression got more distracted. Don could tell it wouldn't be long before she was coming again, and, although he liked her feeling that she was in his debt in this regard, he thought it was high time he did his part to even the score between them. He focused on the amazingly beautiful woman lying in front of him, being fucked by him and about to come, as well as the incredible sensations of his cock sliding in and out of her, being squeezed and pulled by the strong muscles of her vagina. If that weren't enough, there were the intensely erotic scenes being played out all around him, not least of which was Keiko's expression as she was being fucked hard from behind. Then, Martina was coming again, and Don's body enthusiastically joined the party, igniting his primed nervous system and firing a wrenching torrent of cum into Martina. He shoved into her hard as his cock pulsed and came. Despite his earlier orgasm, this one seemed his most intense in quite some time.When he let her legs down and reluctantly withdrew his penis, Martina sat up, kissed him, and said, “Well, I still owe you two. Come collect them anytime.”“I will make a point of it,” Don smiled. He then watched as she walked away in the direction of the dance floor, adjusting her can-can dancer costume as she went.Don thought he had found enough of his own “amusement” to qualify for commencing his “hunt” for Toshia. In the next alcove, he saw a woman in a nun's habit; well, a nun's habit with a slit running up the side of the dress, showing off a nice, long leg and a not-very-nun-like high-heeled shoe; who was leaning over one of the side benches with her hands braced against the wall. Behind her, with her black habit thrown to the side, was a man wearing a black vest and mask, and a pair of red horns and a red pointy tail just like Natalia was wearing. The demon was fucking the nun quite enthusiastically. Don grinned at the perfection of the scene. Then he realized the nun was the very attractive older woman who had sucked him and gone down on Sanja up on the balcony during the ball. Intrigued, Don moved in closer. Yes, he thought, it was definitely her. Now, though, her face was contorted with carnal pleasure.Don followed through on his impulse, and caught one of her tits in his hand, squeezing it through the fabric of her costume. This got her attention. She smiled at him, and said, “Hello.”“Hello,” he answered, “you probably don't remember me, ”“Up on the balcony with that lovely girl the other night,” she said with a bit of difficulty. “Of course I remember. Would you be a dear and stand up on this bench so I can suck you?”“Um, certainly,” Don nodded. He slipped under her arm, and then said, “But first,” and then took her face in his hands and gave her a long kiss, which she returned enthusiastically.“Umm, very nice,” she smiled, “now cock, please.”Don got up on the bench, and faced the nun, holding his already recovering cock out for her. She promptly lowered her mouth to him and was soon sucking on it vigorously. The demon grinned up at Don and even winked. Don chuckled, and took the woman's head in his hands to keep her in place in spite of the rigorous fucking she was receiving and giving. She shoved forward enough to indicate that she wanted more from Don, so he began to fuck himself in and out of her mouth and throat. Of course, after the two intense orgasms he'd recently had, there was little chance that Don was going to come again like this, so he settled in to the role of giving this enigmatic woman what she asked for: his cock to suck. Eventually, the nun was gasping and moaning around Don's cock, which was a singularly wonderful sensation for him, and, he thought, probably for her. Her orgasm seemed to last quite a while, during which the demon thrust into her with even more force and then just held there inside her as he came too.The demon pulled out of her and gave her behind a loud smack, and then went off to find more mischief. The nun took her mouth off Don, gave his pecker a kiss and said, “Thank you.”“My pleasure,” he grinned as he stepped down off the bench. “Is it inappropriate to ask your name?”“I'll tell you if you promise to look me up later and give me a good fucking,” she smiled.“You're my kind of nun,” Don laughed. “I will definitely give you a good fucking next time we cross paths.”“Good! I'm Leslie.”“It's a great pleasure to meet you, Leslie. I'm Don.”“Very nice to meet you, too, Don,” Leslie said. “Have fun!”I'm definitely going to miss this place, he thought to himself as he moved to the next alcove.Here he found the pirate wench Jamie mounted on none other than the Lord of the Manor, who was wearing a Roman soldier costume. Jamie had undone her top enough so that the Lord could hold her heavy, full tits in his big hands. In the same alcove was the head librarian, Leah, dressed as a serving wench of some sort, along with the vampire Marissa, who were sharing a cowgirl Don couldn't identify.In the next alcove, amongst a large number of people, he thought he could identify the Lady's acolyte, Deidre, who was bent over the lip of the mattress part of the alcove as a man in a fairly complicated werewolf costume fucked her, naturally, from behind. Don watched this for a moment, and considered getting involved. He definitely thought Deidre was worth spending a lot more time with. Still, he turned and moved toward the last alcove before the end of the line on this side.Before he could get to the alcove, though, a beautiful brunette wearing stiletto heels, fishnet stockings, a mini skirt and a wonderfully tight-fitting tank top; in other words, a street walker costume; slipped up next to him and took his arm. In her lilting accent, she said, “Are you enjoying the party, Don?”He smiled at her and said, “Of course, I am, Lady.”“I've been hearing very good things about you, Don, and about Toshia as well.”“Oh?”“Yes,” she nodded. “You two have been busy. I suspect court jester is too modest an ambition for you.”“I don't understand, Lady.”She turned to him and kissed him. Don returned the kiss with pleasure. The Lady was one of the most feminine and sensuous women he knew, and any chance to share a kiss, or pretty much anything at all, was a delight to be savored.When their lips parted, she laid her hand upon his chest and said, “If you don't find what you're looking for, I hope you will come back and share my bed.”Don didn't know how to respond to this, but the Lady didn't give him a chance. Instead she said, in a lighter tone, “We have a tradition at these masquerades. I will take as many men, one-after-the-other, as want me or as I can, whichever gives out first. If you're not otherwise engaged, and this appeals to you, I would be delighted for you to participate.”“And when does this commence?”“In a little while, but there's no need to worry; I assure you it will take some time,” she laughed. She kissed him lightly and then turned away.Don watched her go, a bit intoxicated by her confident sexuality and the decided weirdness of the conversation he'd had with her.He turned back to consider the alcove, where he saw Amy in her warrior woman costume, sitting on one of the side benches, but bent over to suck on the cock of someone who looked like Aladdin. Remembering how she liked to be watched, Don decided to have a seat and watch the show. As soon as he sat down next to her, Amy reached out and squeezed his thigh. In turn, he caressed her bare shoulder. When Aladdin was ready to come, Amy took his cock out of her mouth and let him spray all over her face and chest. Ignoring Aladdin, she turned to Don with her cum-covered face and her impish smile and said, “Don, where have you been? I've been doing all kinds of nasty things, and you haven't been here to watch.”He laughed and said, “Well, there was an elf, a can-can dancer, and a nun, not to mention a rather odd conversation with the Lady.”“Excuses, excuses, Don,” she shook her head. She was scooping cum up off her chin and tits and sucking it off her fingers.“What kinds of nasty things?”She laughed, “No, you missed it. I'll tell you what, though, if you'll stick around to watch for a while, I'll let you pick my next victim.”“‘Victim'? Where's your ambition?”“Okay, victims,” she grinned.“Alright,” Don nodded and considered. “Him, him and him,” he indicated a Hugh Hefner-style playboy, a male vampire and a priest.

Gothural - Reacción #1: Goddamn Particle ¡Bienvenidos al primer episodio de nuestras sesiones de reacción en | Gothural | Aquí no solo escuchamos, sino que despedazamos los nuevos lanzamientos de nuestra escena nacional con los propios creadores en la mesa. En esta entrega, nos acompaña la brutal alineación de Goddamn Particle, quienes se atreven a sentarse junto a los camaradas de GothProds y Brutal Revista para someter su álbum homónimo a un escrutinio sin piedad. ¿Qué encontramos en este disco? Riffs técnicos que golpean como un tubo directo a la cabeza. Composiciones complejas que desafían la lógica y los sentidos. ⚡ Voces que oscilan entre la brutalidad y la atmósfera etérea. Producción quirúrgica que no deja espacio para el error. Pero, ¿será un material digno de reventarnos los tímpanos o hay elementos que podrían haber sido más pulidos? Lo analizamos, lo desarmamos y lo ponemos bajo la lupa en una charla sin filtros, con la banda cara a cara. Reacciones crudas, opiniones viscerales y mucha pasión por el metal progresivo. ¿Sobrevivirá Goddamn Particle a la disección de Gothural? Descúbrelo en este episodio. ¡Dale play y únete a la conversación! #gothural #goddamnparticle #metalmexicano #HeadbangingSinFronteras #GothProds #LaGaleríaNocturna #PodcastDeMusica #podcasting #metal #metalhead #music #fest #metalfestival #metalfest #concert #livemusic #legends #cd #vinyl #unboxing #vinyl #vinylart #vinylcollector #vinylcollection #vinilo #colorvinyl #vinylrecords #AlternativeMetal GothProds Links Apple Podcast — https://podcasts.apple.com/mx/podcast/goth-prods/id1606324255?l=en Amazon Music — https://music.amazon.com.mx/podcasts/d10f63b6-f4f3-4a91-b21d-d98c2b08ca01/goth-prods?ref=dm_sh_xBGgYoDaqnREmWm0IoJu5r4kd Audible — https://www.audible.com/pd?asin=B09Q9YY6PF&source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=podcast_show_detail Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/Goth-Prods-104237088306624/ Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/goth_prods/​ TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@goth_prods

We're not sure who needs to hear this but... if you're looking to blast a bunch of meth over a wall and into a prison, using a high-powered, air cannon isn't going to be the quietest option available. Let's talk about that, an elderly neighbor planning on throwing a Goddamn rager, how much is light is too much light in your garage, discovering that mummy bodies actually smell "pretty good" after all, and more on today's episode of Can You Don't?!*** Wanna become part of The Gaggle and access all the extra content on the end of each episode PLUS tons more?! Our Patreon page is LIVE! This is the biggest way you can support the show. It would mean the world to us: http://patreon.com/canyoudontpodcast ***New Episodes every Wednesday at 12pm PSTWatch on Youtube: https://youtu.be/N2t_e-gSUDUSend in segment content: heyguys@canyoudontpodcast.comMerch: http://canyoudontpodcast.comMerch Inquires: store@canyoudontpodcast.comFB: http://facebook.com/canyoudontpodcastIG: http://instagram.com/canyoudontpodcastYouTube Channel: https://bit.ly/3wyt5rtOfficial Website: http://canyoudontpodcast.comCustom Music Beds by Zach CohenFan Mail:Can You Don't?PO Box 1062Coeur d'Alene, ID 83816Hugs and Tugs.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO EPISODE 4 LOL

It's a tax on consumers. It's a tax on YOU! (tax on YOU!) It's a tax on consumers. It's a tax on YOU! (tax on YOU!) It's a tax on consumers. It's a tax on YOU! (tax on YOU!) .. Exploit Americans it's ROBBERY (robbery) Trump Screwed America Trump Screwed You and Me! GOD DAMN ROBBERY (robbery) .. Trump Screwed American!! (Trump Screwed Americans!!!) GOD DAMN ROBBERY (robbery) Tariffs hurt Americans .. Who pays a tariff? (Who? Who Who) Americans do. (Americans do.) Tariffs hurt Americans We are screwed! (We are screwed!) Who pays a tariff (You. You You) Yep, that's right, Americans do!!!! (Americans do!!!!) We are screwed! (We are screwed!)

This week we talk our favorite splits, which are single records shared by two or more bands. It's sort of like when you can't afford to live like a human being in this country anymore and you have to share one space between many people because the powers that be just want to swallow everything for themselves and watch everyone else rot in the fucking streets.On this week's Right Profile:Secret WorldThe Sissy BoysSome of our favorite splits:Pg. 99 and Majority RuleCoalesce and The Get Up KidsPelican and Playing EnemyHot Water Music and LeatherfaceGo It Alone and Blue MondayThe Nerve Agents and Kill Your IdolsShai Hulud and Another VictimRancid and NOFXGoldfinger and Reel Big FishThe Ataris and Useless I.D.88 Fingers Louie and Kid Dynamite Check Us Out:PatreonSixth and Center PublishingMusical Attribution:Licensed through NEOSounds.“5 O'Clock Shadow,” “America On the Move,” “Baby You Miss Me,” “Big Fat Gypsy,” “Bubble Up,” “C'est Chaud,” “East River Blues,” “The Gold Rush,” “Gypsy Fiddle Jazz,” “Here Comes That Jazz,” “I Wish I Could Charleston,” “I Told You,” “It Feels Like Love To Me,” “Little Tramp,” “Mornington Crescent,” “No Takeaways.”

Flaming sh*t... that's the only sneak peek you're getting here. Original Posts The time we housed a goddamn psychopath TIFU by staying in touch with my psych ward friend My childhood paranormal story. Neighbor's "friend" didn't want anyone near her. Learn more about Evergreen Podcasts and Wessler Media. Visit TheRRShow.com Check out our Subreddit Follow us on socials: TikTok Instagram YouTube Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sa harap ko— isang battle emcee, rap artist, at activist— kilala sa technical rhyming scheme nya, sa aggressive nyang atake, sa umaapoy na stage presence, sa hindi matinag na confidence; na-witness nating lahat ang evolution ng kanyang game nitong 2024 Isabuhay Run, kung saan nangibabaw ang kanyang Cultural Swagger; ang tinaguriang "The People's Champ" at " Ang Pinakamaangas na Gen Z"— mula Etivac pa para sa inyo, Goddamn, VITRUM! BOOM! Isang linggo pagkatapos ng epic Isabuhay Finals laban kay GL, salang agad sa podcast si Vitrum. Sa simula, nagmistulang processing ng battle ang usapan (ano nga bang take nya at takeaway sa battle nila ni GL?). Pagkatapos, bahagyang pasada sa kanyang pinagmulan at background; tawid sa biyahe nya sa mundo ng hip hop-- sa pagpasok nya sa FlipTop, sa ebolusyon ng kanyang persona (kupal nga ba talaga sya? paano umabot sa ganitong "dark humor" ang kanyang estilo?), sa creative process; sa kultura ng rap sa Pinas, sa papel ng aktibismo sa sining (o ng sining sa aktibismo), sa kung ano pang aasahan sa kanyang "cultural swagger" sa loob at labas ng hip hop. Mahigit dalawang oras ng solid na usapan. Walang ibang masasabi kundi isang napakalaking... GODDAMN!

Exorcism Fucking.Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. ‘You told me you are Darius' girl,' I threw her words back at her. She buried her face in a pillow and started to sob. I would have been aghast except Mom, the presentimental witch that she was, had warned me about this feminine tactic to avoid responsibility.‘Stop that,' I grew stormy-serious. ‘You don't get to cry, Brandy. I keep showing you I care for you and I certainly want you. You are the one with another man.'‘That's not fair,' she turned her tear-streaked face my way. Yep, it was an act. ‘You know that Darius and I are; complicated.'I sat up. Two could play this game. Besides, there was another girl I truly was interested in and by Brandy-logic, I was free to play the field.‘No,' I shook my head in denial. ‘It is not complicated. You want to fuck us both; ‘‘No Vlad,' she protested. ‘I only want to have sex with you; it is just; Darius has this hold over me.'‘You are not asking for my help breaking free,' I pointed out.‘Vlad,' she reached out and stroked my bicep, ‘You know it's; ‘‘Oh fuck yeah!' Taliyah sang out. Apparently those internet tutorials on 'finger-play' and non-penetrative erogenous zones had paid some vital dividends for Mikhail. I had delivered fuck-all orgasms to Brandy already today, yet she suddenly looked jealous. I could deal with that. I slid off the bed to some urgent pouting on her part. She didn't have to wait long.I pulled her off the bed by her left hand and into my arms.‘Ow,' she squeaked as I put a stinging, cupped hand to her bottom. She tried to maneuver away and the chase was on. If she tried to face me, I tickled her. When she tried to avoid me, her ass got a good spanking. She squeaked, squawked, giggled and yelped playfully as I hunted her down.Brandy proved shameless, nimble for such a full-figured dynamo and athletic. She went squealing down the hall, passed the kitchen into the den. When she vaulted the sofa like a pommel horse, she finally was able to put some distance between us. I could get over the sofa just not as fast as she could. She took the momentary reprieve to spin around and shake a scolding finger at me.‘Stop taking me for granted,' she surprised me.‘What?' it was my turn to squawk. ‘I'm not taking advantage of you.' Brandy looked up at our ten inch height differential defiantly. ‘Fine, I'm not taking advantage of you this very second.' She countered by poking her chin forward, putting her hands on her hips which caused her tantalizing succulent boobs to bounce.‘Brandy?' Taliyah panted. We both finally looked over at the kitchen bar counter. Taliyah was on her back, her head tilted back so she was gazing at us upside down. Her shirt was rolled up, as was her bra. Mikhail had her legs pushed up with her ankles on his shoulders. He looked wickedly pleased with himself.‘Taliyah?' Brandy returned the questioning tone. ‘You hate Mikhail.' Taliyah turned her head forward and to the side.‘I still hate his cracker-ass, but his tongue; the bastard refuses to fuck me though,' she complained. ‘It isn't fair that I'm not getting what you clearly are getting.' Mikhail was sticking to the rules so no tongue-fucking either.‘Taliyah, their Mamma doesn't let them have random sex,' Brandy informed her. ‘You need to talk with; ah; Mrs. Samsonov before you get any of the really good stuff.' Mom was three or four miles away, yet I could still make out the reverberations of her maniacal merriment. Her wacky plan was working for no sane reason I could understand.‘No way,' Taliyah grumbled. ‘I'm not asking their Mamma for shit.' Mikhail shrugged then let her legs fall to his sides abruptly.‘I can get tail elsewhere,' he snorted.‘You fucker,' Taliyah's grumbling turned to a snarl. ‘At least help me clean up.'‘Why should I? I'm not your boyfriend and from what I hear, he treats you like a whore too,' he mocked her. Did I mention my brother could be a cruel, pompous ass? Alex was the nice guy of the three of us. I was glad I had Mikhail for this episode because I bet Alex would have gone off-program.Alex didn't need to start having feelings for a girl who'd feed him to Darius' crowds without a hint of regret.‘Vlad, do something?' Brandy demanded with a pout for extra oomph.‘Like what?' I countered. ‘You are the ones who are cheating on your boyfriends and using us for your dirty-little-secret, sexual pleasures. We could be with girls that give a damn about us.'‘Stop being such a bastard,' Brandy slapped me in my left pectoral. She followed that attack up by rushing into my arms, wrapping her arms around my waist and holding me tight as she pressed her ear to my heart. What?I was beginning to wonder if I had been lucky never having a serious girlfriend before. For that matter, I was reconsidering whether my Father's blasé attitude toward women might indeed be the right way to go.‘Frankly, Brandy; I don't give a damn,' I adopted my best Rhett Butler. ‘I haven't had this,' I squeezed her ass so strongly she had to rise up against me.‘I thought; thought you would be different,' Brandy was somewhat shocked by my raw, brutal demands. She meant she thought I'd be more like one of the spineless limp-dick White boy she'd grown up with. I fucking hated stereotypes.‘I am different. I don't have to dress you in a dozen men's semen to mark you as my own.'‘I'll take you when I want, how I want and where I want; unless you run away; really, really fast.' I spanked both cheeks at once. ‘Wench, bedroom, Now!' Brandy gasped in pleasure, struggled free and beat her little wench-feet back to the bedroom. I strode after her like the Captain of my own World.‘Why can't you be more like him?' Taliyah complained to Mikhail. He had other things on his mind. ‘Hey; stop that; I'm not Brandy. I don't; ah; take it up the ass; I said; ah; stop that.'‘Bitch, the horse is outside. Make up your mind right now, or I'm going to make it up for you,' he growled back.‘I'll bite your dick off, White Boy,' she snarled in response. Since I didn't hear a door slamming, I assumed she chose to challenge Mikhail. I don't understand women. Back in the master bedroom once more, Brandy was trying to hide beneath the comforter.‘Vlad, can we talk for a; ‘ she balked when I ripped the comforter out of her 'frightened' hands and off the bed on one mighty yank. ‘Vlad!'I was on her in a flash. I didn't go straight for the anal intercourse. First we wrestled around. She nipped and I kissed her and suckled hard enough on both nipples to give her hickies.She didn't claw me, nut me, or hit me all that hard so I figured this was what my Mom had called 'aggressive foreplay'. What I did know was by the time I had rolled her onto her stomach, her ass was pressing and wiggling against my cock with persistent need.‘Lube,' I exclaimed. She froze up, figuratively (she was slick with hot, sticky sweat), and waited for me to 'prep' her with one finger; she'd felt a lot tighter this time out; and only reinvigorated her urgent writhing once I'd returned to my dominant spot over her. Even with lube in her anus and a generous coating on my phallus, it was tough going.In hindsight, I should have taken it easier on her, but I was inexperienced and Brandy was willing to scream into the pillow instead of telling me to slow down.‘Damn,' I grunted. ‘That's; tight; ‘‘Yes,' she whimpered.‘Does it hurt?' I stupidly inquired.‘Yes; ‘ she whispered.‘Good,' I growled. I pulled back until my glans dilated her sphincter, then slammed in hard and fast again. It hurt my cockhead, but I did it again and again anyway.I could make out her sobbing. While I was formulating a new plan, her thighs and ass began to quiver. The vibrations reverberated over her entire body and then she howled like a Lost Soul discovering Paradise. It was hardly something I could call a human noise. It was definitely jubilant.‘Ha; ha; harder,' she wheezed. ‘Fuck me; ‘ and I started repeatedly pile-driving her asshole. The first time I had been using my hips. This outing I worked all my brawn and weight into my thrusts. Her vaginal secretions made a mess of the sheets, coated her thighs and my scrotum and made this oddly erotic squelching noise every time I bottomed out in her rectum.I kept going, despite all-over muscle cramps, both of us being drenched in sweat and finally Brandy losing her voice until I shot-gunned a full load of cum deep into her intestines (perhaps an exaggeration). Brandy lay there, motionless after I rolled off. After two, or three, minutes, she mumbled something.‘What?' I rolled onto my side and petted her spine from the nape of her neck to the small of her a back. She mumbled something again. I kissed her behind the left ear, nibbled on the lobe then repeated my question.‘I really do love you,' she moaned. Shit.‘Ah, ah- aha, yeah, bi, bitch, ah, ha, is that all you, ah, got White boy,' Taliyah was getting progressively louder from the front area. I could hear the recliner creaking and imagined it rocking back and forth. This I had to see. Brandy was dead weight as I tried to drag her with me out of bed. I doubled back, swept her up into my arms bride-style and quick-footed it toward the noise.Taliyah's shoulders and head were evident over the back of the leather recliner. Her face was a mask of pleasurable pain, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her muscles strained whenever she rocked back. Mikhail was behind her, rhythmically pushing her forward then letting her rock back. His countenance was one of intense concentration. They were both naked and working up a sheen of sweat.My bet was on him trying to not be sadistic more than stopping himself from coming too soon. We Samsonov men had some incredible stamina to go with our bulky size.‘Mikhail, I knew you couldn't turn Taliyah away for long,' Brandy heaved with amused exhaustion. Mikhail shook his head in the negative.‘How's that ass, Bro?' I teased him. Brandy looked up at me uncertainly, then back to Taliyah. The Black girl's head hung in shame but that didn't stop her from giving back as good as she got.‘Taliyah!' Brandy gasped. ‘You gave up your ass; your anal virginity to Mikhail? I thought you would never give it up?'‘He held me down,' she grunted. She was clearly lying about my Brother overwhelming her as well as her raunchy gratification. Against all reason, Brandy began licking my neck and rubbing her torso, ass and thigh against my chest and arms.‘Mikhail, take her to the sofa,' I suggested. He looked up quizzically so I hefted Brandy high enough to cause her to 'meep'. I took Brandy to the sofa, placed her knees on the cushions and bent her chest on the back rest. Taking her by the hips with one hand, I pulled her rump back as I impaled her sphincter on my reanimated cock for one more ride.Eight strokes in and Taliyah and Mikhail appeared beside us. Brandy was in pure bliss. Taliyah squinted at her, then slowly gave into her own rapture. I'd always considered anal sex to be painful for the 'catcher' and not something a person could get into. Then I made allowances for Brandy's individual kink. Now I had Taliyah giving her asshole up to my brother and going wild.I seriously began accepting my novice status and the sad reality: Mom must have been a highly proficient slut to be giving such good advice to her nearly virginal sons. Her awkward (for us) verbal lessons, so hard to believe at the time, were proving timely and terribly accurate. The last trick, she said, was to treat a woman like you owned her while not to treating her like some random orifice.When I picked up the pace on Brandy's tight bunghole, Mikhail matched me. What was ecstasy for Brandy turned out to be too much for the anal virgin Taliyah. She bit down on the sofa cushion in order to stifle her scream. Taliyah vibrated up against him as her climax rocked her in a series of savage tidal surges.Brandy soaked in Taliyah's fuck-stunned look while Mikhail's gaze was one of frank appraisal of my girl's physical sensuality. She didn't press back to meet my thrusts, instead presenting her ass for the best angle of attack. Brandy squeezed her anus, and rotated her hips to give me as much stimulation as I was giving her.‘Damn Vlad, your bitch has it going on,' Mikhail laughed. Brandy shot me a quick look. Taliyah looked downright insulted by the comparison.‘Her name is Brandy, not bitch, Mik,' I glared back, ‘and your woman is looking unappreciated.' Calling him Mik told my brother I thought he'd crossed the line. Brandy's response was immediate.She arched her back up until her body was parallel to mine. Brandy kept up her gyrations allowing me to fondle her bodacious bosom while engaging her in a deep, soul-draining French exploration of the Lost Continent. The sexual act was a never-ending journey. Sensing she wanted to keep that pose for everyone's benefit, I slipped two finger from my right hand into our mouths.Those slick fingers went down to her clit and pinched that mighty nub between them. That really set her off. My left hand migrated from nipple to nipple, giving each areola a spirited slap. Her whines became orgasmic.‘Why won't you kiss me like that?' Taliyah griped.‘Because I don't feel like picking some other guy's pubic hair out of your teeth,' he mocked her. They started struggling, but Mikhail wouldn't let her turn around. He did make a concession to her amorous desires by planting kisses on her neck and ear. That mollified Taliyah somewhat, though she didn't stop trying to break free. One titanic exhalation brought Brandy crashing down from her latest climax.She hung limply in my embrace while I cradled her in my arms.‘Take a look at your brother,' Taliyah moaned. ‘He knows how to treat a lover, you Neanderthal. You could learn something.'‘I like my Black Bitches quiet,' he teased. ‘Why can't you learn that? Is it too complicated for you to understand?'That new bit of outraged allowed Taliyah to break free. As she spun around, Mikhail wisely (and stunningly) retreated.‘I ought 'a smack some color into you, Asshole,' she glared.‘That's only fair,' he raced behind the sweaty recliner. ‘I sure pumped a whole lot of white into you.'‘Rashaan is going to kill you when he finds out what you did to me,' she screamed. That was her boyfriend, the starting quarterback of the football team.‘Unless you want to visit him in the hospital, he'd better bring help,' Mikhail kept mocking her. ‘I'm sure he'll love you giving up the hole you wouldn't give him.'‘Argh!' Taliyah screamed loud enough to give me and Brandy a start. ‘You forced me and I'll let him know it.'‘That's two people lying and two telling the truth, Taliyah,' he generously insinuated the Brandy would back her friend over her fuck-buddy. ‘Besides, this is redneck Davis County, not niggah-loving Kingston. The law is on my side.'That was one 'N-word' too many. Taliyah kept chasing Mikhail who kept taunting her. Playtime had to end. The Sun was starting to set outside. Brandy seemed fascinated with the exchange of barbs mainly because I doubted she'd ever seen a White man openly confront the Black-White divide so fearlessly. This wasn't rednecks throwing empty beer cans and insults from the back of a moving pick-up truck.Mikhail was absolutely confident in his ability to withstand any retribution the Black high school power structure could throw his way. I was more worried about Dad and Mom, Dad wouldn't approve of our promiscuity, Mom had yet to bust up Taliyah to her satisfaction. How she'd handle Mikhail's ass-plugging solution was unknown to me.The immediate problem: Mikhail couldn't resist sticking verbal barbs into Taliyah and Taliyah always rose to the bait. My solution was to have Brandy get Taliyah back to the master bedroom while I gathered up her clothes. As Mikhail handed me her bra, he'd thrown it across the room when stripping her,‘I didn't ham it up too much, did I?' he winked.‘Nah. I think she thinks you are a complete and utter bastard,' I replied in a low voice.‘Damn, I really wanted fuck her today. She's smells great and she's fierce, a real tiger,' he kept smiling. Ah crap. Maybe he was smitten too. There was no way I could clue either Brandy, or Taliyah in on that. As fun as fucking Brandy was, as well as me enjoying being in her company, we had a golden opportunity here.Tomorrow a vengeful Taliyah would unload on Rashaan. He'd want payback. Darius would stop him until he found out I'd banged Brandy all over the place as well. Then we'd let the avalanche take its course. Letting slip our Dad was going to come see us at basketball practice; Mom would talk him into that for us; would guarantee a fight during school hours.Tomorrow was Thursday and Friday was an 'away' game so the football team couldn't get us after school then. That meant the team would be leaving school before the end of seventh period on Friday and there was no way they could wait to beat us up until next Monday. I had little doubt Darius would smell a set up. Convincing his minions of that would be the impossible part.In the bedroom, Taliyah was giving me a rather peculiar look.‘Are you afraid I'll steal something?' she sniped.‘What do you mean by that?' I was puzzled.‘He's not like that,' Brandy defended me; from what, I wasn't sure.‘He's White, you're White and his family are a bunch of thieves anyway,' she spat. Again; huh?‘Brandy?' I inquired. She gave me a confused look back. ‘Okay, both of you should remember I'm from Butt-fuck Alaska, before I came here I knew precisely four Black people and one of those was an infant; and go from there.'‘Oh,' Brandy nodded. Clearly I was a simpleton. ‘Taliyah thinks you don't trust her back here with only me because she's African-American and you believe she'll steal something.'I laughed loud and hard, my restive cock bouncing along with me. Both girls appeared pissed at my reaction, so I felt I needed to explain.‘Taliyah, you are the second hottest girl in school. I'm back here because I like seeing you naked as well as in various forms of undress. You are smoking,' I chuckled. ‘It is nothing more complicated than that.'‘Oh,' said Taliyah. She was both embarrassed about missing the obvious as well as loving a helping handful of padding for her ego.‘Oh,' pouted Brandy. ‘Second?'‘Yeah. I've got this thing for Amy Hutchinson,' I nodded seriously. Amy was a nice, sweet-mannered girl. She was also a sophomore, a late bloomer and flat as a board.‘Oh!' Brandy unleashed her faux-fury, ran up and slapped both my triceps. I was mesmerized by mammaries straining to break free of her frilly beige bra. Her beige panties were doing a good job of being transparent as well. She spun around like a ballerina and attempted a getaway. I was having none of that.I tackled her to the bed, press her chest down on the rumpled bed. She struggled sensually. I began nuzzling the back and left side of her neck. Then I began tickling her. She was helpless before my adroit fingers.‘Please,' she begged. ‘Please stop. I'm about to pee on myself.'‘Fine,' I withheld my torture, ‘but you owe me a two minute make-out session at your front door when I drop you off.'‘No,' she declared. Butt thump. ‘Never.' Hip shimmy. ‘Not happening,' she giggled while rapidly rubbing her panties over my unprotected cock.‘Let her up, Vlad,' Taliyah cooed softly as she ran a manicured hand from my right shoulder to my right buttock. She gave my ass a light pat to 'enforce' her command.‘God damn it,' I grumbled as I rolled off Brandy.I stared up forlornly at the ceiling fan. Brandy 'harrumphed', shot Taliyah a poisonous glance then went to all-fours next to me.‘One minute is all you're going to get, Mister,' she compromised. I leapt off the bed.‘Hurrah!' I fist pumped. The rest of the redressing went off quickly enough. I stripped the bed, rounded up the sheets and hung the comforter on the back veranda to let it air-out. It smelled like cunt juice and sweat, after all. I would put fresh sheets on the bed later. On the trail, I took point since I was the most familiar with the path. Brandy followed then Taliyah with Mikhail taking up the rear.Once we broke out into the bottom land, Taliyah moved up side by side with Brandy and began a sneaky conversation behind my back. According to my brother, they studied me a great deal while whispering. Occasionally, Taliyah shot vile looks back at him. He responded by sticking out his tongue and licking the tip of his nose.We Samsonov men have long, strong, agile tongues. I wasn't sure what genetic malformation was behind that. Upon our return to the stables, Brandy and Taliyah made to leave, but Mikhail stopped them.‘First rule of horse-riding: tend to your mount before tending to yourself.'‘Vlad,' Brandy looked my way. She nibbled on her thumb. ‘Is that a rule you follow; tending to your 'mount' first?'‘Only if I plan to ride her later,' I winked to her. ‘Then I know I'd better pet her, comb her flanks, feed and water her and make sure she is well refreshed before the next ride.'‘Give it a rest!' Mikhail scoffed. ‘She's already fucking you silly. You don't have to sell it.'‘Neanderthal,' Taliyah sneered at him as she shoved past him and back to her mount. Brandy sashayed back into the stables as well. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be picking straw out of my underwear.‘Brandy, what the idiot said, you don't need to convince him,' she teased her blonde friend. Taliyah and Mikhail waged a relentless skirmish resplendent with verbal barbs and rough, handless shoving. Before Brandy and I could get similarly distracted, her phone rang. A fearful flash of her eyes gave away the ID of the caller.‘Hey Darius,' she sounded upbeat. ‘What's up, Baby?' Darius wasn't screaming, so I couldn't make out what he said. I went back to putting away our tack and bridles. ‘I'm; ‘ I mouthed 'tell the truth'. ‘I'm at the Fonteneau House (Mom's family's last name) with Taliyah. Mr. Baxter wanted me to help Alexander and Vladimir with our first Civics project.' Not a total lie.‘What? Isn't what you think; of course, Baby; hold on; ‘ she handed the phone to Taliyah.‘Get us out of here,' Taliyah preempted Darius, almost. ‘We've been; listen Darius; no,' she grew sulky, then, ‘Don't be a Jerk!' she spat. Brandy gasped. Mikhail looked impressed and I was torn between the two reactions.‘I'm not your property; and I'm not your bitch either,' Taliyah grew more belligerent. ‘I don't give a fuck; if Rashaan gives a fuck, he can; fuck you,' she blasted Darius before she killed the connection.‘Taliyah; ‘ Brandy mumbled fearfully. The magnitude of her rebellion began dawning on the Black Cheerleading co-captain.‘Shit Taliyah, if you wanted to sit at our lunch table so bad, I could have told you a half dozen safer ways to do it,' Mikhail chuckled. She backhanded my brother in the chest which only made him laugh harder. Six blows later, he raised his hands in surrender. ‘Fine; you can sit on Alexander's lap next time.'‘Bastard,' Taliyah muttered. Her phone rang. It was Rashaan. ‘Hey Sugah, how's; yeah; with Vlad and his shithead brother Michael.' Mikhail took the opening to grab a breast and squeeze it. ‘Mother-fucker!' she yowled. Mikhail was already running around the horse to escape her.‘What; no; he grabbed my tit; what do you mean?' she dove under the mare and kicked my rambunctious kinsman. ‘Mikhail! No, the other one!' she screamed because Mikhail was starting to wheeze he was laughing so hard. ‘No, that's Vlad; yes, the one with Brandy. Damn Rashaan, you are as dumb as a stump. The Mean One!' she meant Mikhail.‘Triplets means three,' she sounded exasperated. ‘No, that's twins.' Swing and a miss. ‘I'll call you back. I'm making Vlad and Alex twins; No! They are not; Boy! I'll call you back.' Mikhail was howling so loud he fell over on his side, gasping for air. She leapt on him, legs straddling his hips and began wailing on his head and shoulders.‘Shut up you; ‘ Taliyah berated him.‘Excuse me,' Mom's voice snuff out hilarity with all the force of a glacier dropping on a candle wick. Even Taliyah's fury was quelled.‘Ah; ‘ Taliyah stammered, taking in their awkward situation.‘I heard it all; ‘ Mom glared. ‘Mikhail had it coming. Continue if you so desire.' Four sets of eyes blinked in surprise.‘Mom!' Mikhail protested. Taliyah tested these uncharted waters by smacking Mikhail's left arm, the one he was using to shield his head. Mom didn't protest, oh no.‘Bebe, let's get the horses taken care of,' she called over her shoulder. Bebe had been hiding just out of sight. ‘Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, Vlad. Take your guests home and hurry back.' Bebe and Mom took our places while Brandy and I retreated hand in hand. Taliyah stood up without moving away. Mikhail extended a hand up, expecting her to help him out. Why? I wasn't sure.‘You fell down. Get yourself back up,' she mocked him. Mikhail chuckled, rolled onto his stomach then launched himself into a standing position. She was out the door and striding away when Mom spoke.‘Taliyah, if you want to fuck Mikhail, you'll have to stop being a whore to the football team, non-negotiable.'‘I don't want to fuck your son, Mrs. Samsonov,' Taliyah retorted as she spun around. ‘I hate him.' Mom's responding laughter was cavalier and of a remarkable caliber.‘We all hate the best men for us at some point and time,' she chortled. ‘You'll learn. All of us Samsonov women figure that out eventually.' Taliyah was rendered speechless.‘Now Bebe, get me that curry comb,' Mom truncated the conversation. We'd been dismissed and even the strangers knew it.Back in the house, ‘I hate you,' Taliyah reiterated.‘Thank God,' Mikhail guffawed. ‘I don't think I could survive you being affectionate.' She swung and missed. The chase was on again, except this time they were both laughing.Meanwhile, back at school.Alexander opened the door and walked into Ms. Blanchard's room. Five disinterested black faces and a nervous Ms. Blanchard looked his way.‘Whatchya doing here, Boy?' the leader of the male class sneered.‘Ms. Blanchard,' Alex handed her a note on official school stationary, ‘I've been assigned to your Augmented Benchmark Examinations Retest Group.'The Augmented Benchmark Examinations (ABE) Retest Group was for second-year seniors with special circumstances, such as athletes, who had failed to pass the exam last year thus didn't graduate. If the school failed to pass a certain percentage of student-athletes, the Arkansas Department of Education would suspend all school athletic programs until the school's graduation rate exceeded 85% (of incoming freshmen).For years the big fast bastard of an ex-principal had falsified records, but in 2008, Davis County took over the administration of the tests. After that, Davis County Consolidated High School had been barely limping along academically. Oh, our school had the best 10 year football record in Arkansas and two All-State Championships, but we'd been under academic warning for five of those years and for the past three years we'd been avoiding suspension by the skin of their teeth.How had that Black Fucktard handled the issue? He handed out incentives. In this case, the incentive was Ms. Blanchard. Andrea Blanchard had been fired from her first teaching job out of college in just two months and she took the job here out of desperation. When she arrived, she was given the worst of the worst students both grade- and discipline-wise.Then the principal put the screws to her. She'd been dodging the BBC for her first year. At the end of the spring semester, her English and Social Studies classes were scoring at the bottom of the rankings. She was given an (unpaid) special assignment. She had to help the team's star player (the QB that year) pass his A B E, or she would be fired 'for cause'.That would have ended her hopes of a teaching career. The jerk she was teaching had scored in the bottom ten percentile because he didn't give a shit because he thought he had a scholarship to some school in California. Now he needed summer school to graduate. Did he knuckle down and hit the books? Nah. He was smart enough to pass without much effort.What he did do was dial up the pressure on Ms. Blanchard. Bit by bit, she sold her soul to the super-star until she was a confirmed alcoholic and surrendered up her cunt (and a bit more) when he finally did pass the final exam. He went off to college out west and she got handed off to the next group of hideous under-achievers. Her abuse went on and on.Her retention was continuously based on her ability to motivate raising and repeat seniors to get off their asses and fill out the circles on a 'my IQ is at least 85' test. From the founder of this noxious fraternity, the BBC's developed an interesting ritual to confirm their dominant status.Anal and vaginal sex was forbidden on school grounds, during school hours. The 'students' settled for taking pictures of her sucking their cocks, their cum pooled up in her mouth and her masturbating. Every graduate was allowed to witness her having a gold star tattooed on her buttocks as a constant reminder of her degradation plus all her holes were fair game. How civilized was that?Had she not been half in the bottle most of the time, she might have been able to salvage some sort of academic career. Instead, she was coasting down toward a bitter end with her liver and sanity racing to see which one gave out first. Then Alexander Samsonov stepped into her life. He'd overheard two jocks joking about it when he first took Ms. Blanchard's English class the first day of classes.Since then he'd been slowly getting her to open up a tiny bit. She didn't know the full scope of what he knew about her fate, but my brother's sense of chivalry couldn't let this humiliation continue. His problem was how could he separate her from her tormentors? Neither the Principal nor the Vice-Principal would assign him the class. Not only were his grades far too high, those two knew the deal about Ms. Blanchard's servitude and disability.Exit the Fat Bastard Cocksucker and enter the Nutty-nutjob, Dr. Pierre. One impassioned speech about how Alex wanted to enter one of the doc's alma maters and eldest Samsonov triplet had his new, after-hours class assignment. Classes met from 4:30 to 6:00 pm every Monday and Wednesday with a prep test from 4:15 to 5:15 pm on Fridays.The schedule was built to work around sports training and game days; even away games. Alexander didn't meet the (low) requirements to be in the class, but then Dr. Pierre wasn't qualified to be an educator, so it all even out in the end.‘Oh,' Ms. Blanchard subconsciously pouted. ‘I wasn't aware you needed the help. You are; ‘ she looked over the sea of hostile Black faces, ‘welcome to; join us,' she petered out feebly.‘I will do my best to see all of us get through the ABE together,' he smiled at her, then met the hateful glares of his fellow academic refugees. ‘I want everyone to know the idiocy is going to stop; right here, right now.'‘What was that?' Ms. Blanchard shook away some of her post/after-school vodka haze as she tried to remember what was going on.‘Nothing, Ms. Blanchard,' he smiled at the educator. ‘I'll just take a seat.'Ms. Blanchard returned to her lesson plan for the day and after a few minutes, the boys got boisterous. Alexander had a pre-planned response for that. He took out a blue racket ball from his backpack and a leather-bound addition of 'War and Peace' in its native Russian.The moment Ms. Blanchard seemed truly distracted, with her back turned, he threw the ball at the farthest troublemaker. He let the guy know it was coming too. What happened next was the normal human reaction. The other four momentarily looked over to see if the fifth guy caught the ball. He did. Alex was being obvious about it.That also meant only the ball-catcher saw Alex smash W and P into the back of the closest moron's head. He blasted his fellow student out of his chair. The book's follow-through placed it back into Alex's backpack before anyone else was the wiser. The victim crashed violently into the Black guy next to him and the both went to the floor.‘What's going on?' Andrea asked when she turned around. She found two of her students on the floor (one cradling his cranium) one with a blue ball, two staring at Alexander with a 'wtf?' expression on their faces and an angelic Alexander staring at her.‘He hit Darnell with a book,' Devonte (aka the ball guy) exclaimed.‘This book?' Alexander motioned to the open ABE paperback book he had open in front of him, on the desk.‘No,' he grumbled. ‘The one you just hid.'‘Mother-fucker,' Tucker, (aka the Collateral Damage guy) pulled himself up. ‘I'm going to kick your; ‘ he threatened.‘My head,' the target moaned. ‘I think he dun broke ma head wide open.'‘Everyone calm down,' Andrea wavered.‘Of course, Ms. Blanchard,' Alex remained civil. ‘I must point out that Darnell appears to have been hit in the back of his skull. He must have been facing forward, listening to your lecture, so his attacker had to be someone behind him and that means it certainly wasn't me.'‘Bitch,' Tucker balled up his fists.‘Are you implying you want to view my testicles,' Alexander mocked him.‘Please everyone sit down,' Andrea pleaded.‘Your brothers aren't here to back you up,' Jase (the other guy closest to him) menaced. His buddy, Lamar, stood as well.‘I said 'please sit down',' Andrea turned shrill.‘Bitch,' Jase turned on her. ‘Sit your ass down!' He emphasized that by driving his first and middle finger into her sternum. Threatening the teacher brought Alexander out of his chair. Until that point, he'd been in the wrong.‘Care to try that on me?' Alexander challenged him.He had four; three actually (Darnell still hadn't gotten off the floor) buddies backing him up and they were all football players. Jase rose to the bait.‘Bitch,' he did the finger poke on Alex, ‘I told you, OW!' he screamed as my brother grabbed his two fingers, twisted his palm upwards then bent the fingers down toward the back of his hand.The others looked ready to rush in.

Hello to our lovely coven, happy Wednesday! We already know you loved this episode, because Psychic Medium Chris Medina told us so! ;) Come sit with your aunties while Chris shares his 2025 predictions about Dayna, Katie, the world, and even our Pod entirely! Need something cute and cozy for the new year? Well, we just dropped some cute winter Disrespectfully swag, get yourself or whoever's on your daddy list a beanie, hoodie, or daddy hat from our store! Please  support our show and show off your love for Disrespectfully by repping our official gear :) K Love ya bye! Thank you to our sponsors! O POSITIV: Take proactive care of your vaginal health and head to https://OPositiv.com/DRF or enter DISRESPECTFULLY at checkout for 25% off your first purchase QUICKIES: For Disrespectfully listeners only, take 20% off your next order with code DISRESPECTFULLY (not applicable with other promotions, discounts or bundles) Connect with the Coven! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1930451457469874 Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/disrespectfullypod/ Listen to us on Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/disrespectfully/id1516710301 Listen to us on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/0J6DW1KeDX6SpoVEuQpl7z?si=c35995a56b8d4038   Follow us on Social! Disrespectfully Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/disrespectfullypod/?hl=en Disrespectfully Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@disrespectfullypod?_t=8icuQMhG3jz&_r=1 Katie Maloney Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/musickillskate/?hl=en Dayna Kathan Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/daynakathan/?hl=en Chris Medina Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/psychicchrism/?hl=en Buy our merch!  https://disrespectfullypod.com/ Disrespectfully is an Envy Media Production.

A Sea Captain Finds The Grotto.Based on the work of BradentonLarry, in 6 parts.  Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Once they had finally reached the beach they were ready to take a nice rest. Seeing the rocky terrain that would keep them from easily proceeding to the grotto helped to take a bit of the wind from their sails as well. So they collapsed on the nearest empty beach blanket and quickly fell asleep in a cozy little pile. Perhaps because of the relatively high concentration of XYZ in the ocean, or sea, air, though, they were soon as randy as they had been at any time in Eros. They awoke very horny, and the nearby guys were more than happy to help out. Don was surprised at how thick and hard his cock was even after the vigorous orgasm he had just had – both in Toshia's sweet pussy and all over her back. He thought he would go over to offer himself to Shelonda's mouth, but just then was distracted as a woman sauntered toward them on her way down to the water.She was a leggy blonde, with long, wavy hair of gold, a phenomenal, curvy body with amazing tits, and her face... Don was certain he recognized her from somewhere. Noticing his attention, the woman smiled broadly at him and gave him a merry wink. Suddenly Don knew exactly where he had seen her. She was a model on The Price is Right back in what he thought of as the real world. He spent a long moment standing there stunned, before making the obvious choice and turning to follow the gorgeous blonde down to the water. He admired the way her hips swayed as she made her way to the water, and then continued to wade in. When she was up to her waist, which Don thought was a shame since he could no longer see her shapely ass, she dove forward and under the water.Don was up to his knees in the surprisingly warm water by the time she resurfaced, emerging from the water like Aphrodite, her thick hair darkened and hanging around her radiant face and water glistening as it ran off her shoulders and full breasts. She smiled again to Don, who hastened to wade in further. She waited for him, her nipples just above the water line. She batted her long lashes at him as he came up close enough to say, "Hello."She unleashed that dazzling smile again, and said, "Hello there. Have we met?""Not really, no," he almost stammered."Well, I'm Rachel," she continued to smile, as Don felt her hand touching his hip under the water and then move directly to his cock, which was the hardest it had ever been. Don also felt quite sure that it was bigger than it used to be."I know," Don smiled back, moving closer and gently grasping her waist under the water."You do?" She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips and then moved in even closer, brushing her lips over Don's collar bone and then along the side of his neck. Her grasp on his straining penis was tight as she pulled on it."Yes..." Don shuddered a bit. His hands moved around her waist to slide down her lower back and then to hold her behind tightly. "Someone told me your name."Releasing her hold on his prick, Rachel slipped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. Her wonderfully full breasts were pressed against Don's chest as she asked, "Who?""It was a long time ago," Don smiled, "and far away."She cocked her head to the side a bit, her smile a bit thoughtful, before she said, "Well, it's very nice to meet you...""Don," he said. He lifted her up as she pulled herself up and jumped a bit in the water, wrapping her perfect, long legs around his waist.Rachel managed to get her hand down between them, took hold of his straining prick, and positioned it just right. As she sank downward, enveloping him in her warm, welcoming embrace, she said, "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Don."Up to his chest in the XYZ sea, Don held on to the gorgeous Rachel, helping to raise and lower her as she slowly rode up and down on his thick and steely hard cock. Her lush, full breasts moved against his chest. His hands held her firm ass cheeks tightly. Their mouths met in a heated kiss that quickly grew in passion, their tongues slipping past each other's lips and teeth. Rachel worked herself on Don's shaft and against his body with increasing enthusiasm. The water splashed against and between them as she pushed up and then slammed down on him again and again. Rachel let out a low growl, and then bit Don's lower lip. Don's fingers squeezed her ass tighter, and he groaned deeply."Oh fuck!" Rachel called out. "Oh fuck yes! I'm going to cum so hard! Goddamn, fuck, yes! Fuck me!"Then Rachel was holding on to him tightly in the water, pushing herself down on his rigid member, as she shook and trembled with what seemed to Don to be a very intense orgasm that rolled on and on. At some point she sank her teeth into his shoulder, but he barely noticed. Instead, he was intent on enjoying the moment – having this radiant beauty in his arms, wrapped around him and impaled on his cock.Eventually, she pulled back a little and smiled at him again, this time actually blushing a little. She kissed him again and said, "That was wonderful, Don. I'm very glad to have met you. Maybe we should move into shallower water.""Gladly!" Don grinned, and without letting her off his prick, he turned around in the water and began to carry her toward the beach.Rachel laughed and kissed him again. It was a friendly buss that quickly became passionate, as she held onto to him tightly. When the water was only up to his mid-calf, Don very slowly knelt down, and then carefully lowered Rachel back into the shallow water, being careful to keep himself inside her. Her hair spread out around her head in the water, as Don lay over her and began to fuck in and out of her steadily. They kissed again as their bodies moved together in the light surf. Rachel's hands moved over his wet body until they found his butt and then began to pull him into her forcefully.Don paused for a moment to lift her long legs up out of the water and put them on his shoulders. Rachel grinned up at him and cupped her tits in her hands, squeezing them and pinching her nipples, which were very hard and red. Don smiled down at her and proceeded to fuck her pussy vigorously, the XYZ-water splashing around them, and especially where their bodies were joined in sex."God, yes!" Rachel exclaimed. "Fuck me just like that! It feels so good! Fuck my cunt, Don!"Don was rather amused that this gorgeous model would be so enthusiastic, and have such a dirty-talk streak, but was far too intent on working his cock in and out of her to laugh. Instead he slammed into her roughly, letting the water absorb the violence of their fucking, and losing himself in the carnal pleasure of her pussy squeezing and pulling at him and the visual stimulation of the beautiful woman lying in the water beneath him with her eyes half-closed in rising pleasure, a sexy smile on her lips and her luscious tits in her hands."Ah! Yes!" she cried out. "I'm going to cum again! Fill my pussy with your cum!"Don was only too happy to oblige. He fucked her hard with short, deep strokes, and then, just as she threw her head back and her body arched up out of the water, he felt his cock swelling and then exploding deep into Rachel, spewing a thick fountain of cum up inside her. Don pushed up into her as she groaned loudly and her pussy squeezed his cock again and again, and as he pumped jet after jet of cum into her pussy and womb. His head swam with the intensity of his long orgasm.When he opened his eyes and looked down, Rachel was lying still, eyes closed, hands holding her breasts and a beatific smile on her face. Slowly, she opened her beautiful eyes and breathed, "Wow!""Indeed!" Don grinned. He let her legs slide off his shoulders and into the water, and then leaned down over her to give her another kiss. His cock was still very hard and gave no indication that it was inclined to soften any time soon, but he suspected Rachel might need a little break.The quiet pause was interrupted though, by Shelonda's voice calling out, "There you are, Don!" This was followed by splashing and laughter as Toshia, Shelonda and the three men ... no, now there were four ... they had been playing with found their way into the water.Shortly, after introductions, and after Toshia and Shelonda had plunged into the water, things quickly developed into a surf-washed orgy. The blonde guy Toshia had been sucking earlier was now sitting in the water, as Shelonda straddled his lap riding up and down on his thick cock. Rachel was on her hands and knees, water up to the middle of her firm thighs, and her breasts dipping into the sea, while she was taken from behind by the new guy, a fit black male with mocha skin, and the Arabic fellow who had been fucking Toshia earlier worked his cock in and out of her lovely mouth. Toshia was kneeling in the water, leaning back against the black guy Shelonda had been with earlier. He had one arm wrapped around Toshia's upper body, squeezing her right tit in his left hand, while the fingers of his right hand reached down to play with her clit, all while he worked his rather large cock slowly in and out of her pussy from behind. Don, who had a mind to convince Toshia's current playmate to shift to her ass so he could enter her pussy from the front, moved over to stand in front of her. He was about to bend down to kiss her, but she saw him and grabbed for his achingly hard cock, pulling it to her mouth as she leaned forward a bit.Don smiled down at his best friend and lover as she eagerly took him into her mouth. He brushed a few wet strands of her hair out of her face as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and began to move her mouth up and down it, quickly easing it down into her throat, bit by bit. Taking her head gently in his hands, Don began to rock his hips, fucking her mouth and throat, and just enjoyed the sensations of this exquisite blow job. He glanced over at Shelonda and Rachel, then down at Toshia, quite happy with this visit to the beach. Then Don glanced out, over the head of the guy who was now quite vigorously fucking Toshia from behind. Out there on the water was a large dark shape, quite obviously a sailing vessel. Don thought it looked like a corsair, or some such ship. (Nautical issues were never Don's forte.) It was clearly sailing toward shore, and gave every appearance of making for Rendezvous.Don couldn't see any indication that the ship might be a threat, so I decided to wait until there was some kind of a break in the action before drawing Toshia's attention to it. However, he did keep a periodic eye on it as she continued to pull and suck on his almost painfully hard prick. Eventually, the guy behind Toshia had his big hands around her waist and was raising and lowering her vigorously, and she was obliged to let Don out of her mouth. Instead, she held on to his cock, and whimpered happily at the serious fucking she was receiving. Toshia cried out loudly as the big cock inside her erupted with a thick fountain of cum. Don bent down and kissed Toshia as the guy gently withdrew and backed up."How do you want me, stud?" Toshia smiled."Well, as good as that sounds..." Don directed her attention over to his right, where the sailing ship had dropped anchor and was lowering several longboats over the side.Toshia washed herself again, and they waited for Shelonda to have a particularly ear-splitting orgasm, as the longboats were rowed toward shore, making for what seemed to be low docks in the rockier part of the coastline between the beach and the mouth of the river. They said goodbye to Rachel and the guys (who quickly and happily ganged up on the cheerful blonde model) and headed back up the beach blankets. As Don and the girls gathered their belongings, without bothering to put on more than their shoes, they could see groups of people disembarking from the boats. These people climbed up over the rocks and headed for Rendezvous. Don thought they moved together more like a bunch of tourists on a cruise than any kind of threat. Once each longboat had discharged its passengers, the few remaining crew headed back out to the ship."Maybe we can get them to take us to the Grotto," Don explained to Shelonda as they set off to intercept at least one of the shore parties.Captain Sage and the sailors.It was easy enough to follow the groups, particularly since they were making no effort at all to be stealthy. It seemed that all of them were heading for a large wooden building on the water-side edge of Rendezvous. It looked like nothing so much as a big, solid tavern, and the hanging sign outside the door suggested just as much.Pausing there to hastily throw on their clothes, they eyed the sign with some confusion. There were no words, and the sign featured a foaming flagon with prominent human breasts, and a rigid cock rising up out of the foam."It's a tavern sign, alright, but I have no idea what the name might be," Don mused."The Booby Mug?" Toshia offered."The Foaming Cock?" Shelonda suggested, a bit weakly.Another shore party came up then. As had seemed to be the case with the others, this was all men. They were wearing simple, short, pants – breeches, really – and few of them bothered with shirts. They were all tanned and muscular, and a bit on the weathered side for denizens of Eros. For as much as they resembled the crew of an eighteenth century sailing, or outright pirate, vessel, they also seemed to be rather clean and well-behaved, if boisterous.Even if they hadn't had an ulterior motive, our heroes would have been drawn into the tavern just out of curiosity.Crossing the threshold was like crossing into another world, or at least milieu. On the outside, the late afternoon sun lit a cheerful seaside sex resort. On the inside, was a relatively dark great room lit by many, many candles. There were long, heavy tables in the middle of the room, a scattering of round tables off the various sides, and a big bar. In addition to the newly arrived seamen (and Don could see no seawomen), there were several actual barmaids – busty, unsurprisingly, and fully clothed, surprisingly, though they did each display generous cleavage – working behind the bar and moving around the sudden influx of "customers". While they seemed to be giving the bar maids plenty of attention, the seamen were primarily concentrating on ordering drinks from the bar.Since arriving in Eros, Don had not seen anyone drink anything but water, but the drink being handed out to the men was clearly not water. For one thing, each flagon was capped with a foaming head. Leading the way toward the bar, Don managed to stop a bar maid with an armful of flagons and asked, "What is that drink?""'Tis grog, sir," she said with a tone that implied, "of course." She smiled and handed a flagon to Don before hurrying off to pass out the rest of her bounty to the seamen.The "grog" smelled like a cross between mead and beer, and tasted like a sweet beer, which made sense. There was no alcoholic aftertaste, though."Hey, pass that around, Professor," Toshia laughed as she took the flagon from him. After a cautious sip, she promptly took a much longer drink. "Yum, now that's good stuff!"As Shelonda took her turn, Don turned to the closest seaman, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me.""Aye?" the fellow turned to Don with a quizzical eye and the beginning of a smile."Hello, my name is Don, and these are my friends Toshia and Shelonda.""Yar, good day to ye ladies," the man grinned with a definitely twinkle in his eye. "I be Joseph.""I take it that you're the crew of the ship that just anchored offshore?""Har! Wouldn't do to anchor on shore, now, would it?"Don chuckled, and said, "No, it wouldn't. Who would I talk to about arranging passage to the Grotto of Ishtar?"Joseph, who was more than a little distracted by Shelonda's breasts, took a short moment and then said, "Oh, for that kind of thing, ye'll be wanting to talk to the cap'n.""Excellent," Don smiled broadly. "Where can I find the captain?""Oh, the cap'n'll be along shortly," Joseph said with some effort at restraining a laugh. One of his companions overheard his answer and did burst into a loud guffaw."Thank you," Don nodded with a frown. He turned to talk to Toshia, but she had wandered off a bit. She was now talking with a couple of the other crewmen, who were quite happy to give her their undivided attention and to share their flagons of grog with her. Shelonda was still standing nearby, but was returning Joseph's flirtatious glances while occasionally drinking from the flagon Toshia had left in her care.Noticing Don's attention, Shelonda smiled broadly and repeated, "This is good stuff!""That's good," Don nodded with a bit of concern. Apparently the grog was some kind of intoxicant – the first they had come across in Eros – and Don was a bit wary about mysterious consequences. He resolved to abstain from grog, as something of a designated adventurer."Ye've got a lovely figure," Joseph said to Shelonda."Thank you," she smiled and sidled over a bit closer.Don stepped back to get a little further out of the way. Looking around, he guessed that there were about twenty crewmen in the tavern, but there was no sign of anyone who might be the captain, or even an officer. Meanwhile, he saw that Toshia was now half sitting, half leaning on the edge of one of the big tables. She had a flagon of grog in her right hand, and was running her left along the taut, tanned bicep of one sailor, while a second man leaned in on her right to talk with her.Looking back to Shelonda, Don saw that Joseph had drawn her with him over to a chair at a side table. Don watched as Joseph pulled her into his lap and very efficiently exposed her full breasts. She laughed as he said something and began pinching and teasing her nipples.Over against the big table, Toshia was making out with the man on her left, who seemed to have his hand up between her legs and under her skirt. The man on her right looked like he had lowered his mouth to her breast on that side. In another moment, Toshia had set her flagon down on the table a bit to the side and behind her, so that she could busy her hands with reaching into the pants of the two men."Can I get you a drink, sir?" said a pretty bar maid."No, thank you," Don smiled, noticing her blue eyes and very inviting cleavage."'At your service, sir," she grinned and moved on.Toshia was now making out with the man on her right, while the one on her left was taking his turn at her breast. Don could see his muscular forearm flexing as he worked his fingers up between Toshia's legs. Toshia had managed to work their pants down and now, rather obviously, was pulling on and stroking their cocks.Don looked around, found a likely chair, and sat up on the back of it, putting his feet on the seat. This way, he could better keep an eye on things. He saw that Shelonda was now kneeling between Joseph's thighs, and the back of her head was moving up and down in a steady motion that Don had become quite familiar with. A couple of Joseph's friends were also watching intently, but apparently patiently.Toshia was now leaning back on the table, supported by her left arm, as the man on her left moved between her legs, pushing himself into her. Toshia had her right arm around the neck of the man on her right, pulling him toward her so she could continue to make out with him. Quite a few of the men were watching this scene, many of them with a flagon in one hand as they adjusted their own hard-ons. Some had gone so far as to pull their cocks out and stroke them openly.Don was finding the urge to stroke his own persistent erection almost irresistible.Just then, though, the door opened, letting in a blinding swath of white sunlight along with a small group of individuals. Squinting, Don saw three women and a large, naked man who made every other man in the room look a bit scrawny and weak in comparison. Of the women, though, there was one who instantly drew Don's attention.She swept the room with an imperious look that took in the positions of every man and woman in the room, including Don, but accorded him no more attention than anyone else. She had her hands on her hips and stood there in her calf-hugging high-heeled boots as if she owned the place. She wore a long dark brown overcoat that almost dragged on the floor behind her, as well as a black tri-corn hat with a bright red feather sticking out of the folded up brim atop the coppery red hair that fell down around her face and shoulders in an unruly tumult. Underneath the coat, which was thrown open carelessly, her torso was encased in a rust colored corset that emphasized her charms to undeniable good effect. Her smooth, muscular thighs disappeared into a rather incongruous red miniskirt. The hint of a smile on her lips betrayed equal measures of amusement and contempt. Though she was probably less than a meter and a half tall, she commanded the room as soon as she entered it. Along with the Lady and India, she was one of the most palpably sexual creatures Don had ever seen.Confident that this was the captain he had been waiting for, Don took another moment to look at her a bit more carefully. He noted her long neck, her fair complexion, the spray of freckles across her cheeks, and the particularly adorable broad nose, upon which rode the only pair of glasses he had seen in Eros. As he slid off his chair, Don was vaguely aware that Shelonda was making happy swallowing noises as Joseph groaned, and that Toshia was being fucked vigorously on the table in the center of the room with a gang of men each waiting to take a turn coupling with her, but he was focused on the woman – the captain – who was now striding decisively toward a table in the corner of the room, her little entourage in tow. Don noticed that the crewman in her vicinity bowed their heads a bit and backed away to give her space.Whether or not either of the women with her or the big man noticed him, Don proceeded as if they weren't there. He ignored them and approached the table, arriving just as the captain sat down in a high-backed chair with arms, unlike the other chairs in the room."Excuse me, ma'am," Don said, noticing that it suddenly felt very warm in the tavern. "I take it that you're the captain of the ship that just

Did I forget Steve Allen? I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert. WHY! Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you! There's three of us. Where's number four?! {Enter The Multiverse} Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all. Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least. The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind. Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them. —Tales of a superstar DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not was How are you even friends. FLASHBACK ‘ I don't want to be the reason, I could never know you— And I don't want to be the reason I could never love you' ‘Weird dreams, bro.' I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing; I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head. it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead. Apparently we were sisters—same father, different mother; waking up, though, was silly and sounded bizzare— but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?' I didn't ask flat out. In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chalked up to be; upset and furious— though not irate, and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, however, I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, and that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused, stating that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped— “That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?” It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head. Lol. Her response to the comment about the appearance on Tonight made me laugh—still pirated (pissed, drunk) she goes “Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence [on his own]?!” Seemed like a personal dig, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle. “Okay…” I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the fact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me— Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it. It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl Project's Enter The Multiverse collection —which I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading. Of courses I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i exercised at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I wasn't fat, but feeling heavier than usual after Au gratin potatoes made from scratch and yellow curry over lentils and brown rice —all completely organic, but still heavier than I was used to, though… in the spirit of the holidays, it was nice to cook. Pasta sounded okay, and I knew I needed to write something better than [The Abyss], anyway, and so I went to work—first on the food, Then on the music. —Tales of a superstar DJ. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. lol what happened to Lindsay? Idk. I could practically taste the tequila. Well, I was the one pouring it. Way to enable. I was just trying to calm her down. Did it work? Eventually I guess. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Where can two strippers get a bite to eat on Christmas Eve? By  MelissaBaby. (abridged) Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. “Fuck Christmas,” Clover shouted, “and fuck you, Tony. Fuck Santa Claus, fuck his elves and fuck all ten goddamn reindeers.” “Eight,” Roxanne said, filing her nails and looking at her over the top of her glasses. “Shut up, Roxy, I'm talking about reindeers, not how many cocks you sucked over the weekend.” “Clover, calm down,” Tony said, “It was worth taking a shot.” “Bullshit, I told you nobody goes to a strip club on Christmas Eve.”“She did tell you,” Roxanne said, “Even louder that she's telling you now.” “Look,” he said, shrugging, “I'm sorry, but it wasn't nobody…” “We've had five customers,” Clover said. “And the last one was two hours ago,” Roxanne chimed in, “It's almost ten thirty.” Clover jerked her thumb at Roxanne. “She might look like a doofus wearing that stupid Santa hat, but she's right.” Tony held up his hands, “Okay, it turned out to not be a great idea. You guys are always saying that more customers come in because they are lonely than because they are horny. I figured it would be a lonely night for a lot of guys…” “It might be a great night to be a hooker,” Clover said, “but not a dancer.” He looked at his watch, then over his shoulder at LeAnn, the bartender. “Tell you what,” he told her, “If nobody else comes in before eleven, go ahead and close up.” He started to walk away, but Roxanne called him back. “We paid our club fees, Tony, that isn't right.” He looked up toward the ceiling, as if he were looking for a script to read from. “You want to close and go home early, but you want your club fees refunded because I said we would close and you could go home early?” “No,” Clover said, “We want our club fees refunded because we paid you fifty dollars to dance on a night when you dragged us in here to dance, even though we told you nobody was coming the fuck in.” “Fine,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “LeAnn, give them back their club fees.” The door opened, and they both groaned, but it was not a customer. Sporty, the Gold Dollar's bouncer, came in. “Speaking of guys you'll fuck,” Clover muttered. When he approached the bar, she said, “Hey Sporty, how come you go out with Roxy? I always heard black guys like girls with nice big asses.” “I always heard strippers were friendly,” he shot back. He sat down next to Roxanne. “Where have you been?” she asked him. “Yeah,” Clover said, “There could have been a brawl in here, between the rats and the cockroaches.” “I was sitting out in my car, listening to some jams.” Clover tipped out and gave LeAnn a big hug, then she and Roxanne walked out to their cars in a light cold rain. “You ain't waiting for Sporty?” Clover asked. “Nope, don't want to talk to him right now. Meet you at the diner.” They each got in their cars. A light coating of slush covered Roxanne's windshield, but the wipers easily pushed it to the side. She pulled out of the parking lot on to the slippery street and drove the mile and a half to their usual after work spot, the Finest Kind Diner, while Clover followed close behind. When she turned into the diner's parking lot she noticed immediately that the lights were turned off, except for a string of colored Christmas bulbs blinking around the front door. Clover thought for a minute. “We could go to Denny's.” “Are they open?” “How the fuck would I know? Call ‘em up.” “Oh, so I have to look up the number?” “I figured it has a man's name, so you would know it.” Roxanne sat back in her seat. “I don't want to drive all the way across town, just to go to Denny's. What else would be open?” “Just White Castle.” Roxanne thought for a minute. “Yeah, what the fuck, let's go to White Castle.” “We ought to just go in one car,” Clover suggested. “Fine. Yours or mine?” “Yours,” Clover said, “Mine is more full of trash than a westside trailer park.” She pulled her car into a parking space, shut it off and got out. “I hate this drizzly shit,” she said as she got into Roxanne's passenger seat. “Hey, don't you live in a westside trailer park?” Roxanne asked. “Yeah, that's why I know what I am talking about.” “Speaking of knowing what you're talking about,” Roxanne said, “Santa Claus has eight reindeer.” “Are you counting Rudolph?” “Nope. Rudolph doesn't count.” “Who decided that?” “Clement Moore.” “Who the fuck is he? Sounds like a baseball player.” “He wrote The Night Before Christmas.” “Twas the night before Christmas,” Clover recited in a sing song voice, “And all through the place, Roxanne was sitting on every guy's face.” “And up from the lawn there arose such a clatter,” Roxanne returned, “As Clover devoured the whole turkey platter.” Clover nodded her head. “That was pretty good,” she admitted. Roxanne was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You wonder though, who the fuck would name a reindeer Blitzen? What is he, a Nazi reindeer?” “I bet Rudolph was originally Adolf the Red Nosed Reindeer and they changed it during the war or something. Hey, what's going on with you and Sporty?” “He wants me to go to his mom's house for Christmas dinner.” “And you don't want to go?” “Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend from the strip club?” “Oh yeah, I get it. But still, you guys been going out for a while now. You are going to meet them sooner or later.” “It doesn't have to be on Christmas with all the relatives there.” “So what are you going to do?” “I don't know.” There were three cars parked outside the White Castle when they arrived. The restaurant's windows were so wet with condensation that they could not see through them. But when they dashed inside, they were nearly blinded by the garish light. “This is like sensory overload,” Roxanne said, as Jingle Bell Rock squalled from a tinny sound system. They walked over to the counter. There was no one behind it. Roxanne leaned forward, craning her neck to look back into the kitchen. She saw a young man in a white uniform and a hairnet dumping french fries out of a fryer basket. “Excuse us,” she called. He looked over his shoulder. “Be with you in a minute, ma'am,” he said. Clover cackled and nudged Roxanne with her elbow. “Ma'am. He thinks you're an old fucking lady.” “Yeah, and he thinks I'm taking my mom out for Christmas Eve.” The man came to the counter. His name badge identified him as Julio, assistant manager. “What can I get you ladies?” he asked. “I'd like four hamburgers, an order of medium fries and a large coffee, regular,” Roxanne said. “Give me six whiteys and a large Mountain Dew,” Clover added. “Would you like fries with that?” “Fuck no, I'm gonna eat most of hers.” Julio rang up their orders and Roxanne paid for both. Clover looked around the room. There were three occupied booths. In one a pair of middle aged men, wearing the uniforms of parking attendants, sat sipping coffee. At another, an older woman in a ragged green coat had only a cup of water and a single empty burger box on the table in front of her. A couple of booths down, three young, black clad goths were sitting together. They looked to be in their early twenties; two boys, one very large, the other thin and jittery, and a purple haired girl sitting across from them, loudly chewing gum. They all looked like they were coming down off a much better time than they were having now. “It's kind of a sad looking bunch of people in here,” Clover said. “Yeah,” Roxanne said, “It's Christmas Eve and they've got no place to go.” “That sounds familiar. I mean, what the fuck is the difference between them and us?” “We've got money in our pockets.” “Yeah, money we took from other lonely people,” Clover said. She looked lost in thought for a moment, then asked Roxanne, “How much money you think you've got in your pocket?” “I don't know, a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty dollars.” Clover looked around the room, her lips tight and her brow knotted. “I'll bet I know what you're thinking,” Roxanne said. “It's fucking Christmas,” Clover said, shrugging. Roxanne called Julio back to the counter. “How much are those sacks of thirty sliders?” she asked him. “Thirty two dollars and fifty two cents.” She looked over her shoulder at the woman with her single burger. “Give me two sacks,” she said, fishing her cash out of her pocket. “You still want the other order?” “Yeah,” Clover said, “And I want you to give anybody whatever they want to drink. Keep a tab and I'll pay for them later.” Julio hesitated a moment, then said, “Okay, it will take a little bit of time. Your other order will be up in a minute.” When their food was ready, they went to the empty table between the old lady and the goths. As they walked past the parking attendants, Clover asked them, “How you guys doing? You had to work tonight?” “Fuckin' Nutcracker,” one of them grumbled. “So are you going to see your son tomorrow?” Roxanne asked Clover when they had taken their seats. Clover nodded. “Not till the afternoon. But I get to have him the next day, too.” “Have you got plans?” “I was thinking we'd go to Hong Kong Garden for dinner.” “And the next day?” “Are you kidding? The day after Christmas? We're going fucking shopping.” Roxanne laughed. “Yeah I'm sure that'll thrill a ten year old boy, going shopping with his mom.” They had each finished two burgers when Julio called to them that their order was ready. Clover walked over to the counter, picked up a bag of hamburgers in each hand and turned to face the dining area. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she hollered, “My friend Poindexter and I would like to treat everyone to Whiteys for Christmas.” She went from table to table, holding out the bags, so that each person could take some burgers. “And if anyone wants something to drink,” she said, “It's on us. Just step up and tell Julio what you want.” After going to each table, she had half a bag left. She put it on the table in front of Roxanne and sat down. Roxanne twisted in her seat and watched as several of the patrons went to the counter and ordered drinks. She noticed that the old woman in the next booth had neither gotten up nor taken any burgers. She took one from the bag, leaned over the back of the booth and asked, “Would you like another burger, ma'am?” “Are you sure it's okay?” “Of course it is,” Roxanne said, “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas, dear,” the woman replied, taking the burger. Roxanne's phone buzzed. “I bet I know who that is,” Clover muttered. Roxanne looked at the screen. “Yeah, it's Sporty.” She sat back in the booth and answered, simply saying, “Hey.” “Listen baby,” he said, “I wish you hadn't split like that. I don't want you mad at me, whether you go tomorrow or not.” “I never said I was mad at you, Sporty. I'm just tired of all the back-and-forth on this shit.” “I don't think having Christmas with my family is shit.” “Now you're just looking to be offended. They know where you work, right?” “Yeah.” “So, you're going to tell them your bringing a girl from work to Christmas dinner, so I can sit there, eating turkey with everybody looking at me like I'm a whore.” “Ain't nobody gonna call you a whore.” “My own mom calls me a whore.” “Well, my mom ain't your mom.” “I don't know, Sporty. I'm just not sure I'm ready for this.” “We've been going out almost a year.” “Off and on.” “Whatever. Where are you at anyway? I come over to Finest Kind because I thought you guys would be here.” “They're closed.” “Well, no shit, I just told you I was over here.” “We're at the White Castle on Union Street.” “So, would it be cool if I come by?” “Yeah, sure. I'll see you in a bit.” Roxanne disconnected, shaking her head. “This fucking guy,” she muttered, “I'm telling you, he won't give up…” “And that's a bad thing? Let me ask you something,” Clover said, “and don't get pissed.” “Okay.” “Are you nervous about meeting his family because you think they won't like you being a stripper or because you don't think they'll like you being white?” Roxanne was silent for a minute. “Maybe both,” she said. “Either way, I think that's his problem, not yours. I mean it's his family.” “Yeah, but I'm afraid that if they give him a lot of shit about it, he isn't going to pick me over them.” “Well then, fuck him. He ain't worth it if he does that.” Roxanne shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” An old man with flyaway white hair came into the restaurant. He appeared to be wearing just a light sweatsuit under his ratty coat. He sat down next to the old woman. She spoke quietly to him for a minute, then he loudly cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Flo says you are buying burgers for everyone. Is that so?” “Sure is,” Clover said. Roxanne took two more burgers from the bag and handed them to him. “Go get yourself a coffee or something,” Clover said, “Whatever you want, it's on us.” The man thanked them, stood and fetched coffee for himself and Flo. Sporty came in a few minutes later, took off his wet coat and hung it on the end of the booth. He slid in next to Roxanne. Looking at the bags on the table, he asked, “Why did y'all buy so many burgers?” “Because we're generous bitches and we share with everybody,” Clover said. “Well, shit then.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of burgers. After a few bites he said, “I need to get a drink.” “Just go to the counter,” Roxanne told him, “We're running a tab.” Sporty stuffed the rest of the burger in his mouth, then went to the counter. He came back a minute later with a large orange soda. “You been thinking about tomorrow?” he asked Roxanne. “Yeah, I've been thinking about it…” “Hey Sporty,” Clover said, interrupting her, “Let me ask you something.” “Yeah, what?” He reached for another burger. “Why do so many black families have macaroni and cheese for Christmas dinner?” “Because it's good as hell. We still have all the regular shit, turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberries and all that.” “Pumpkin pie or sweet potato?” “What do you think? Sweet potato pie.” “What kind of stuffing?” “Cornbread.” “Just plain?” “Fuck no, my mom puts Jimmy Dean sausage in it.” “Damn!” Clover exclaimed. “Listen, if this silly bitch don't want to come to your mom's house for Christmas dinner can I come?” “You can both come as far as I'm concerned.” Roxanne laughed. “That's actually a pretty good plan. If your mom spends five minutes with Clover, she'll think I'm little miss sunshine.” “No, she'll think you're a dumb bitch who thinks Santa only has eight reindeer.” “Rudolph doesn't count.” “Damn, you back on that shit?” Sporty said, rolling his eyes. Clover slipped out of the booth. “Fuck you both,” she said, standing up. “Hey everybody,” she shouted, “I'm taking a Christmas survey. How many reindeers does Santa Claus have?” There was murmuring throughout the room. The big goth kid was counting on his fingers. One of the parking attendants was quietly singing Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer. His friend said, emphatically, “Eight.” The goth girl said “Nine, if you count Rudolph.” “Rudolph wasn't one of the originals,” he replied. “So where did he come from?” “Gene Autry.” “Dead white man,” she muttered. The man who had been singing said, “The Night Before Christmas guy gave them their names.” The skinny goth kid glared over the back of the booth at him. “But who said he was in charge of fucking reindeer?” “He wrote the goddamn poem!” “They didn't know about Rudolph then!” “Isn't it nice to see how the holidays bring people together,” Roxanne said to Sporty. “All right,” Clover said, clapping her hands together. “Let's put it to a vote. How many people say nine?” She raised her hand and the goth kids and the old lady joined her. “Who says eight?” Roxanne, Sporty, the parking guys and the old man raised their hands. Clover looked at Sporty. “Put your fucking hand down, man, your vote don't count.” “Why don't my vote count?” “Because you ain't hoping to get any pussy from me tonight.” “You got that right,” he smirked. Roxanne turned in her seat. “How many people say ten?” They all looked at her, perplexed. No one raised a hand. “That's your cue to sit down and shut the fuck up,” she said to Clover. Clover looked around with a frown, then sat without saying anything more. Sporty looked over his shoulder and said, “Who thinks Die Hard is a Christmas movie?” Everyone raised their hand. “Goddamn right,” he muttered. Roxanne nudged him with her elbow. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. He stood up and let her go by. The parking lot guys were getting up to leave. They thanked her for the burgers as she went past their table and wished her a happy holiday. One gave her a big hug. At least he didn't try to cop a feel, she thought as she went into the women's bathroom. When she opened the door to come out a few minutes later, Sporty was standing in front of it. “You know how cute you look in that hat?” he asked. “Do you know how desperate you sound when you try to sweet talk me?” “Nah, I ain't desperate. It'd be alright if you don't want to go tomorrow. I get it. But don't go saying you weren't welcome to go, because you were asked.” “Okay, that's fair. It's just that it's a big step.” “You got to take steps if you want to get anywhere,” he said. She put her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Looking past him, she did not see anyone watching them. She gripped the waist of his pants and walked backward, pulling him into the bathroom. Sporty pushed the door shut behind him, and let Roxanne tug him across the room until her hips bumped against the edge of the sink. Roxanne leaned back, looking up at him and biting her lip. He gazed down at her, his hands on her hips, and kissed her. She kissed him back, but then turned her head. “At some point,” she said, “we have to talk about where we are going.” “We do,” he replied, “but we ain't got to do it right now.” She draped her arms over his shoulders and they exchanged a long, hard, tongue swirling kiss. Sporty's hands moved to her breasts, squeezing and caressing them, while Roxanne dropped her hand down to rub his stiff cock through his jeans. “I think you've got something you want to give me for Christmas,” she whispered. “I don't know,” he said, “I don't think you've been a very good girl.” “Do you want me to be a good girl?” “Aw, hell no,” he said. He took a half step back, seized her waist and spun her around to face the sink. Her Santa hat fell off, landing in the basin. He ran one hand down between her legs and cradled her chin in the other. “Look at you,” he whispered in her ear. Her glasses had slipped down her nose. She pushed them back into their proper position and gazed at herself in the mirror. “Look and see what I see.” Roxanne looked at his eyes in the mirror as his hand rubbed and squeezed her pussy. “Don't look at me, look at you.” She stared at her own reflection, resisting the temptation to watch as he unfastened her jeans and pushed them down over her hips. But when his fingers slipped inside her, she leaned her head back and kissed the side of his neck. His fingers probed deep into her, his thumb played with her clitoris. She reached back and rubbed his crotch. She fumbled at his belt until he gently pushed her hand away and undid it himself. Roxanne felt his cock bump against her ass, then slip down between her thighs. He placed his hand between her shoulders and gently pushed her down until her elbows were on the sides of the sink. She picked up her Santa hat and put it back on her head. Sporty kneaded her ass, then spread her thighs, pressed the head of his cock into her pussy and began to fuck her with long, smooth strokes. Clover snickered when she saw Sporty disappear into the women's bathroom. Get your figgy pudding, girlfriend, she thought, don't go until you get some. She walked to the counter and got a refill on her Mountain Dew, then stopped and listened for a minute. The sound wasn't loud, but she could hear them in the bathroom. They were definitely fucking in there. As she walked back to the booth, she saw the goth girl looking toward the bathroom. She glanced up at Clover with a smirk. Clover winked at her and sat back down in the booth. A few minutes later, the skinny goth kid leaned close to the window and peered out. He wiped away the condensation with his sleeve and looked again. “Fucking cops,” he muttered. “What cops?” Clover asked. “Cop car just pulled up.” “Oh, shit,” Clover muttered. She looked toward the bathroom. She couldn't hear Roxanne and Sporty where she was sitting, but there was no doubt that when the cops walked in, they would. They had to walk right past the bathroom to get to the counter. One of them might even go into the mens' room. She thought about warning them somehow, but didn't think there was enough time. That was confirmed when she saw the cops approaching the door. She had to do something. Just as they reached the door, she began singing at the top of her lungs. You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why. The goth girl looked up at her and immediately realized what she was doing and joined in. Santa Claus is coming to town. The cops walked in. One was an older man. His eyes and shoulders both drooped. There's another guy doesn't want to be working on Christmas Eve, Clover thought. His partner was a young, thin black man. They walked right past the bathroom to the counter. He's making a list, He's checking it twice. The other goth kids joined in the singing. He's gonna a find out who's naughty and nice. The old couple began to sing along. Santa Claus is coming to town. The two cops stood by the counter, looking around the room. Julio approached the cash register. The older cop leaned in and spoke to him. Julio pointed to Clover and the cop looked over at her. He nodded, then spoke to Julio again. He sees you when you're sleeping, He knows when you're awake He knows if you've been bad or good, So be good for goodness sake Julio handed each of the cops a bag of burgers and a cup of coffee. Now get the fuck out of here, Clover thought, but instead of leaving they walked toward her. The older cop held out his hand. “Awfully nice thing for you to do, ma'am,” he said. The other customers kept singing. Clover shook his hand. The younger cop shook with her as well. They turned toward the door, tipping their hats to the older couple as they went by. The older cop walked out just as the customers were finishing the last chorus, but the younger cop turned and went to the counter. He held out his open bag toward Julio. “Could you toss a couple of ketchups in there?” he asked. Julio nodded and dropped a handful of packets in his bag. “Thank you, Merry Christmas.” he said, then waved to the customers. “Merry Christmas, everyone.” He took two steps toward the door and stopped and looked toward the bathroom. Clover could hear Roxanne moaning from where she was sitting. He looked around the room. “Does anyone know who is in there?” he asked. “Yes, officer,” Clover said, “That's my friend. I'm afraid she ate a few too many of these gut grenades. You know what they can do to your digestion.” “Yeah, we all been there once or twice, I suppose,” he said. He went to the door and started to open it, then stopped, obviously listening to the sounds emanating from the bathroom. He turned and looked Clover in the eyes. An amused expression crossed his face. He winked at her and walked out. Roxanne had already come twice when she heard the singing. She thought it was just in her head until Sporty paused between thrusts and muttered, “What the fuck is that?” “Jesus, don't fucking stop,” she groaned. “Oh, you need some more of this dick?” “Goddamn it, yes, Sporty, fuck me.” He gripped her hips and began slapping his loins against her ass harder. She braced her hands against the mirror and shoved back against each plunge of his cock. “You getting kind of loud,” he told her. She dropped her head and her Santa hat fell off. She grabbed it and bit down on the white felt ball to keep from crying out. But after a minute or two, she let go of it, unable to keep from moaning loudly each time he jammed his cock deep inside her. She looked up at him in the mirror. Their eyes met, and the look of passion on his face pushed her over the edge into another orgasm. Before it subsided, she felt him stiffen, jerk his cock a few more times and withdraw, as his hot cum ran down the inside of her thigh. “At least they stopped that fucking singing,” Sporty said as Roxanne cleaned herself up. He picked up her Santa hat from the floor, brushed it off and stuck it back on her head, then unlatched the door. “Hold on a minute, babe,” Roxanne said. She raised her face and kissed him. “I'd be happy to go to your mom's tomorrow.” “Damn,” he said with a wide grin, “All I had to do was fuck you real good?” “You always fuck me real good.” “Then I will always get my way, right?” “Don't push your luck,” she said, opening the door. As they came out of the bathroom, the goth kids were walking toward the exit. “Merry Christmas. And thanks,” the girl said. “Yeah, thanks,” skinny kid said as well. The big kid stopped, looked at Roxanne and held his fist out toward Sporty. “Yo,” he said, “You da dawg, bro.” Sporty bumped fists with him. “Fucking white kids,” he muttered, chuckling. They slipped back into the booth, where Clover was waiting for them with her arms crossed and a smug expression on her face. “What was that singing?” Sporty asked. “That was me saving the you two fuckpuppies from spending Christmas in the slammer.” “What are you talking about?” Roxanne asked. “A couple cops came in here while you were getting your stocking stuffed. We were singing so they wouldn't hear the noise you were making.” “We weren't making that much noise.” Sporty laughed. “Girl, you loud as hell.” The old couple came to their booth and thanked them for their burgers. “Merry Christmas,” the man said, shaking all their hands. “There is a special place in heaven for you ladies,” the woman said. As they walked away, Clover said, “You think there is a special place in heaven for us?” “If we died tonight, we might at least be able to make a case for it,” Roxanne said with a shrug. “And by next week, we are fucked again.” Julio came out of the kitchen with a damp rag and wiped the table where the parking guys had been sitting. “Hey, Julio didn't vote,” Clover said. She called to him. “Julio, how many reindeers does Santa Claus have?” Julio looked at her with a perplexed expression. “I don't know,” he said. “You know, like in the song. Dancer and Prancer and Donger and Blitzkin…” “Donger?” Roxanne asked. Julio shrugged. “I don't know that song.” “You don't know it? What the fuck country are you from?” He stared as her and said, “Colombia.” “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude.” “She doesn't have to try,” Roxanne said, “It's her default mode.” Julio shook his head and returned to the kitchen. “Give the brother a break,” Sporty said, “He's from South America. What the fuck he gonna know about reindeers? Ask him about llamas, he'll probably tell you everything you ever wanted to know.” “I can't think of anything I want to know about llamas,” Clover shot back. “But I do feel kind of bad for the guy. I mean, he'd have had a lot easier night if we hadn't come in here and bought burgers and shit for everybody.” “It's his job,” Roxanne said with a shrug. “Yeah, and we fucking threw a fit because we had to work on Christmas Eve.” “You threw a fit. I didn't.” “You didn't like it.” “No, but I acted like a fucking grown-up about it.” “Yeah, but you have to act like one because you don't look like one.” Sporty looked in the bag. “Anybody want this last burger?” he asked. Roxanne and Clover shook their heads. Sporty bit into the burger, swallowed and said, “You feel so bad for the guy, why don't you do something nice for him for Christmas?” “Like what?” Clover asked. “Like what the fuck you think?” Sporty asked. Clover looked at him for a minute, then tipped her head to look past him. Julio was wiping off the service counter. “He's not a bad looking guy,” Roxanne said. “Well then, why don't you go do it then?” Clover asked. “I wasn't a twat to him.” “Besides,” Sporty said with a grin, “she already got hers.” “I ain't gonna fuck him in the bathroom,” Clover said. Roxanne laughed. “The bathroom is clean, at least.” “You don't think I will do it, do you?” “Bitch, I stopped trying to figure out what you would or wouldn't do about the time you set my boyfriend's car on fire,” Roxanne said. Julio disappeared into the kitchen. “Fuck both of you,” Clover said. She got up and followed him. “Hey, Julio,” she called. He was standing at the dish sink and turned around at the sound of her voice. “Listen, dude,” she said, “I hope I didn't say anything that offended you or got you upset or what not. That's just me clowning around.” “It is fine. I understand.” “Well, I think we put a lot of extra work on you tonight, coming in here and disrupting and shouting and singing and all.” “No, it is fine, Missus.” “Well, it's Christmas and all that. I'd like to maybe give you a little something for your trouble…” Julio waved his hands. “No Missus, we are not allowed to except tips.” “Yeah, I wasn't talking about giving you money.” She looked around and saw an open door at the back of the kitchen. She walked to it and peered into a dark room. “What's in here?” she asked. “That's the manager's office.” Clover walked in and flipped the light switch. A large flat top desk against the far wall nearly filled the room. There was a faux leather swivel chair in front of it. Clover plopped down into it, spun around, and put her feet up on the desk. Julio stood in the doorway, looking nervous. “The manager does not like anyone sitting in his chair,” he said, “No one is allowed.” “But you're the assistant manager right?” “Si.” “So when he ain't here, you're the fucking manager and it's your chair.” “I do not think so…” “And I am your guest, so I can sit in your chair.” “Missus,” he said, “I know it's a foolish rule but I need this job.” “Do you think I'm gonna tell anybody about this?” Julio looked at her with a puzzled expression. “About what, Missus?” “First of all, stop calling me Missus. Then come over here and find out.” She sat up, put her feet on the floor and patted the top of the desk. Julio leaned back and looked around the kitchen as if he suspected someone might be lurking there. Clover patted the desktop again. “The boss told you not to sit in his chair, but he didn't say shit about sitting on his desk, did he?” “No. I suppose he did not.” She pushed the chair back until it banged into the wall. “So have a seat.” Julio bit his lip, seeming lost in thought, then sat on the edge of the desk. “Dude, lose that dumbass apron.” Julio reached behind his back and untied the apron. Before he could pull it over his head, Clover had his belt unbuckled. He watched with an expression of amazement as she deftly unsnapped his waistband, yanked down his zipper, and pulled his cock free. “Do all the men in Columbia have big dicks?” she asked as she wrapped her hand around it. “Si,” Julio said, “It is well known in Latin America, Missus.” “You call me Missus again and I might bite it off,” she said. She flicked her tongue at the head, then wrapped her lips around it and began to suck. Julio briefly lifted his hips from the desk and tugged his pants and shorts down to his thighs. Clover cupped his balls in her left hand, massaging them, while her right hand stroked his shaft. She took it in her mouth again, but almost immediately, she heard a chime ringing. She raised her head and asked Julio, “What the fuck is that?” Julio had a look of panic on his face. “Someone is at the drive-through,” he said, “I must go serve them.” He started to rise, but she put her hands on his hips and pushed him back down. “No, fuck that,” she said, “Stay right there.” She got up and rushed to the dining room. Roxanne and Sporty were sitting in the booth, kissing. “Hey, you fucking lovebirds, I need help here,” she shouted. When they looked at her in surprise, she said, “There's somebody in the fucking drive-through. Either of you guys ever work at a fast food place?” “I worked at Burger King in high school.” Sporty said. “Well, pry Roxy's hand off your whopper and get the fuck in here and find out what they want.” She disappeared back into the kitchen. Roxanne and Sporty looked at each other and shrugged. “I'll give it a try,” Sporty said. He slipped out of the booth and headed toward the kitchen, Roxanne following close behind. “It's like somebody told Santa they wanted a shit show for Christmas,” she muttered. Sporty went to the drive-through window and looked around. “Fuck. I don't know how to use this touchscreen shit,” he said. “Can you at least talk to the guy?” Roxanne asked. “Yeah, that shit looks the same. Hold on.” He was distracted by the sounds coming from the manager's office. “What's she doing in there?” he asked. “Sounds like she's sucking his dick.” “Damn, she's loud, too. Sounds like somebody got a rag stuck in their wet-vac.” He pressed several buttons on the communications panel, but nothing happened. He fiddled with the volume knob, and clicked the headset on and off, all to no avail. Suddenly, he was startled by a blasting horn, and looked over to see a white pick up truck right outside the window The driver, a large, red faced, bearded man, was glaring at him. “Honey, I don't think that's Santa Claus,” Roxanne said. Sporty slid the window open. “I've been out here trying to order for ten fucking minutes,” the man shouted. “Yeah, sorry about that,” Sporty said. “We got some kind of computer problem.” The man looked past him at Roxanne. “Looks to me like the problem is you're having some kind of party in there.” “Naw, she's the manager. She come in to try to fix it.” “So why isn't she fixing it?” “Sir,” Roxanne said, “I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do about it until the tech guys get here.” “I worked to midnight on Christmas Eve. All I wanted was some burgers for when I get home.” “I'll see what I can get for you, no charge.” She went to the grill. There were onions simmering in the corner and pre-cooked patties in a warming pan. She found a package of buns and put a half dozen on the grill to brown. The man tapped his fingers impatiently on the door of his car. “This is some bullshit,” he barked at Sporty, “You got something for me or not?” “Roxy is fixing it up right now.” “The manager's name is Roxy?” “Yeah, she was named for her grandmom.” Roxanne's glasses kept steaming up from the grill's heat. She did her best to assemble the burgers, but one got no onions, one had triple pickle and some were drenched with mustard and ketchup while others got no more than a drop or two. She boxed the burgers, stacked them in a bag, and handed it to Sporty. “About time,” the man grumbled. “What about a Coke? I need something to drink.” “Coming right up!” Roxanne said with a big smile. As she poured a Coke from the dispenser she thought, I hope those burgers give you the shits, asshole. Sporty handed him the drink and cheerily said, “Merry Christmas, sir.” The man growled. “Yeah, right. I guess the two of you can get back to whatever you were doing now.” “Thank you, sir,” Sporty said, “But we already finished that. Appreciate the thought though.” The man glared at them, muttered something underneath his breath, and drove off. “What did he say?” Roxanne asked. “I didn't catch in, but I think one of the words started with an F and one with an N.” “Feliz Navidad?” “Most likely not.” “Should we figure out how this works, in case someone else pulls up?” “How long Julio gonna take getting his nut?” Roxanne shrugged. “Hold up,” Sporty said, “I got a better idea.” He walked to the back door, opened it and, looking outside, flicked a couple of light switches on the walk. “There you go,” he said. “What did you do?” “Turned off the outside lights, so the place looks closed.” Clover took Julio's cock into her mouth until she felt his pubic hair tickling her nose, then swallowed. That will keep him from trying to go see what's happening in the kitchen, she thought. When she was out of breath, she rose up, releasing his cock with a loud popping sound. She circled the head with her tongue a few times, then dove down and swallowed again. It was late, she was tired, her jaw was starting to ache and her belly was rumbling in complaint over its load of greasy hamburger. She sucked in her cheeks as hard as she could, and Julio exhaled loudly and raised his hips from the desk. As she lifted her head, Julio spurted into her mouth. She swallowed most of it, then picked up his apron off the desk and wiped her face with it, surreptitiously spitting out the rest of his load. He leaned forward, his head hanging low, while he recovered his breath. Clover stood up, and loudly burped. “Sorry about that,” she said. Julio stood, pulling up his pants. “It is okay, Missus.” They walked into the kitchen. Julio immediately noticed that it was dark outside the drive through window. “You friends, I think they turned off the lights,” he said, “I will have to turn them on and to see what else they might have done.” “Okay, well, Merry Christmas, dude.” “And to you, Missus.” Clover turned away, but he added, “Missus?” She looked back. “Maybe you will come for hamburgers again.” Clover looked him over. “Yeah, I might.” Roxanne and Sporty were sitting in the booth when Clover returned to the dining room. Roxanne was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder and her eyes shut. Clover sat down across from them. “You guys about ready to go?” she asked. Roxanne sat up straight and stretched. “Yeah we might as well,” she said. Sporty looked out the window. “That sleet shit turned into real snow,” he said. He nudged Roxanne. “Let me up, baby.” She stood and he slid out of the booth. “Give me your keys,” he said, “I'll get your car warmed up.” She fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to him as he put on his coat. Watching him walk out, Clover said, “When a man cleans the snow off your car for you, he's getting serious. Especially if he does it after you fuck him.” “I think asking me to come with him to his mom's house for Christmas shows that pretty good, too.” “So, stop being a fucking pussy about it. You think you're going to find another nice guy who is obviously crazy about you and doesn't give a shit what you do for a living?” Roxanne was silent for a minute. “It doesn't seem likely, does it?” she said at last. They kissed again and Sporty said, “You know, I had a lot of girlfriends before, but I never brought one home with me on Christmas.” She patted his cheek, kissed him and said, “I've had a lot of boyfriends before, but I never fucked one in the bathroom at White Castle on Christmas Eve.” She kissed him on the nose and dashed to her car, calling, “See you tomorrow, babe.” “It's about time,” Clover said, as Roxanne got into the drivers seat, “I'm freezing my tits off over here.” “That's because they're fake.” “Probably. They should've come with like a heater option.” “I wish I'd known it was a problem, I would have got you one for Christmas.” Clover reached across the console and squeezed Roxanne's hand. “Merry Christmas, Rhonda,” she said. Roxanne felt her eyes moisten. “Merry Christmas, Charlene.” The last display before the park exit, the grand finale, was a great arc of lights over the road. On the left, Santa rode in his sleigh, overflowing bags of gift boxes and teddy bears behind him. His reindeer stretched along the arc, their legs blinking in a dance across the night sky. At the right end of the display, Rudolph's nose glowed like a beacon. “Nine!” Clover shouted, “Bitch, count ‘em! nine fucking reindeers!” “Rudolph doesn't count.” “He counts in this town.” “Why? Because Parks and Rec says he does?” Clover sat back, her arms crossed over her chest in triumph. “Nine fucking reindeer,” she smirked. “Eight,” Roxanne muttered. “Nine.” “Eight…” By  MelissaBaby for Literotica

Sometimes ideas come from the most unlikely of places: one day your giving our recommends for villains with wild objectives, the next day your talking about stone cold amazing cinema. THAT'S RIGHT – we didn't put the bunny back in the box and we are talking about “Con Air” and all of its glory: the characters, the one-liners, and just what makes a Goddamn American Masterpiece. After we set up our “rules”, we each give you three recommends – ENJOY!!! You can listen to us wherever you listen to podcasts! You can find us on Twitter: x.com/1001by1 You can find us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/1001by1/ You can find us on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/1001by1.bsky.social You can find us on Letterboxd - https://letterboxd.com/1001by1/ You can find us on Facebook: facebook.com/1001by1 You can find us on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@1001by1pod You can send us an email at 1001by1@gmail.com. Intro/Outro music is “Bouncy Gypsy Beats” by John Bartmann.

Goddamn! It's a brand new episode of your favorite pod show, SENSITIVE TEETH! Today Ian is joined by Brooklyn based comics Alex Tomaselli and Ryan Peterson! Video games, women, and the juxtaposition of trade embargoes in relation to central-asian technology manufacturing and more on this weeks episode. Don't forget your toothbrush for this wild ride, its ST!

'I_NY' (The Studio Album) Track 07- eye(s). Uptown A, ft. c o l o r s prod. By Blū Tha Gürū “Tears of a Clown” eye(s) official music video I_NY. (The Studio Album) By Uptown A A Short Film Concept Written and Directed by C'cxell Soleïl [Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū] CONEY ISLAND, circa 1903 A carnival entertainer is swept through time and into an unknown world—as the clown/mime struggles to find something familiar in the new world, the clown soon realizes they may be trapped forever and unable to return to the past. FORWARD TO; CONEY ISLAND— PRESENT DAY Afraid and bewildered, the clown makes his way through the city in an inescapable escapade. SHOOTING DATE: TBD LOCATION: CONEY ISLAND, NY- LUNA PARK AND SURROUNDING AREAS Video will be shot on iPhone to give authenticity to the handheld POV-style of the overall project (I_NY: A Short Folm Concept) Character Analysis: The clown seems out of place to begin with, even in 1903; we do not know where the clown belongs—or even with clarity if the character is even meant to be a clown or a mime; the ill-fitting and off-kilter period dress raises questions to whether this clown has time traveled before—and yet—the general bewilderment and chaotic confusion of the clown is telling to that of the treasurer that he has been uprooted out of place, and transported into an unfamiliar world, unable to communicate with people in the modern era, and deeply upset by his own lack of understanding; the clown may even be mute, unable to speak—limiting his ability further— though appearing to be in some ways, anyhow, a magical l creature, the clown eventually succumbs to the fact that he may become a permanent artifact of the new age—unwilling and unable to continue to search for another portal back from whence he came, he becomes complacent and settles in the new world, nearly seeming to be, in the end Not so entirely out of place after all—another lost soul amongst the masses of modern day New York City; the clown makes himself at home. Fuck man, I need to write a 1990's happy ending movie Well, first of all, it's all in the music. The maid is working overtime, A bloodymary; doctor's order Hollywood's oldest secrets, kept safe Hollywood's oldest martyr; Don't bother. Father comes home early; Don't bother calling, Sorry Father knows best; You know what– Father knows best, You know Hollywood's oldest soul (you sold it) Hollywood's oldest post-mortem award and Hollywood's oldest post-modern art installation. You're on air. Statues and old movies, Like words Colors that move like my Someone other; Simply a color, or bouquet of Card tricks. Beg your pardon. Shut up. Excuse me?! Do you do card tricks?! …what are you asking? Did I stutter? Blue, and pink balloons Cerulean and a meridian of fuchsia Just the undertones of code, If what you wanted was to Discover your own world, Well, welcome, Welcome, Welcome home. Milky rain and thunderstorms, Dramatic music Cue the montage All my heart is hurting Just to not belong on television Tell me, what's it like in a body Or to be wanted I would not know that Tell what is was to be young And beautiful; I will never know now I would never know that. Little white witches and Occultic gestures, pegan rituals and All the knowing even if he did want you The competition is fierce And by that I refer to Black magic; non hermetic, of course But still powerful and often as deadly Despite the consequences Rockstars and show hosts, Musicians and of course –whoever else might rescue you Top of the line, Back of the queue Top of the pile Back of the Harvard I'm police brutality I'm police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police britality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality You wish your heart was A remote control, God A harvard asshole A pinecone, aarvvark Creamy white and plum sugar All your futures, wives and mistresses Lovers and masters, and mistresses, lovers creamy afterwards, Envy, aardvark Envy Jaguar, Envy, hearthrob I only saw your show once, And never breathed outward after Jealousy, awkward Potruding, After, Again, You aardvark Ahgain, You aardvark I'll kill myself on the mark Organized, the blocking I almost admire Beautiful creatures And beautiful creatures And how it burns when it seeps in that i'll never be one It's good to meat you, then leave in a half hour I missed my hard mark I went to birthmark I missed my entrance I miss you, aardvark I miss you aardvark Beat the blonde Freebase the boundless Infinite boundary infinite boundless Classic hollywood breakfast Hard bourbon, Los Angeles Laced tumbler, Long monologue, A second thought And now, Polygamy. Ah, that painting–I love that painting. It hags in my favorite coffee shop in LA; What's that place called, anyway? Don't call it. Why not. Don't call it. Keep your favorite places sacred. Ah, come on, i flunked fame school. Everyone flunks fame school. What? It's the only way. That doesn't make any sense. I promise not to think of you so adoringly or watch you at all, as long as you also promise Never to show up on any monitor Here or ever after, at random Forever after, Not happily, but at least One without the other …the whole movie was ridiculous, but it was the paint can rolling back and forth that really did it for me. “COME TO MAMA MY LITTLE DIDGITS: LET ME LAY MY 20/20'S ON YA. “ FUCK THIS MOVIE. YOU CAN TELL IT”S THE BLACK VERSION OF THE WIZARD OF OZ, CAUSE THIS SHIT IS FUCKKKED UP. ALL THE WAY FUCKED UP: AND THE ORIGINAL IS FUCKED UP. I'm like, “WHERE”S MICHAEL JACKSON? “I'M READY TO GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.'“FUCK THIS.” ohh , she's from new york No wonder her concussion dream is fucked up. This is aaaallll fucked up. Not everything needs to be black. They should have kept this white. Give me judy garland And them racist ass midgets Aaaannnyyyy day Over this shit. No. no ‘the wiz' “Where's michael jackson?” I don't like this. “Where he at?” “I gotta pay my respects, and I gotta go.” I gotta GO. BYE. i had to keep watching it. You know why? Cause it kept getting WORSE. I kept watching it, I'm like “How much worse could it be?” WORSE. They added a snorting lion, A womanizer tin man, and a homeless. YES. You got that right. They added an actual homeless To the black ass ghetto ass New york ass version of The wizard of Oz And actually thought Michael Jackson dressed as a scarecrow Was gonna soften this out. It DIDN'T. It just got worse; So i was like “Fuck this. I hate this.” But i just kept watching it, Because i'm like: It can't be WORSE, can it? It CAN They added a homeless But that's not the scary part about this guy So they're in the New York Subway, And they add a homeless, I'm like “that's …accurate” So this homeless like follows them underground and like, traps them And that's scary right? No. This is the scary part: He's not just a regular fuckin underground subway dude He's a fuckin vetriloquist puppeteer homeless. WHAT. You heard that right. THE WORST. So this guy like traps them all underground in the subway station, And they try to escape, And they run up the stairs, And they escape, to like The subway station And I'm like “ what station is this?” “Seems like uptown.” “It's got the gate, that closes– Yeah, that's uptown. That's uptown. But then I was instantly reminded that i was watching a movie, Because they escaped upstairs, And the trash can started moving, The trash cans came alive, and started chasing them– And I'm thinking, “That's how you know this is a movie: that's two trashcans In an uptown subway station. That's unheard of. Not one trash can: But two?! Nah, This a movie. Not to mention the fact that they're alive and chasing these motherfuckers around I'm like “No. that's inaccurate” There are no trashcans in uptown. None at all. Then I'm thinking, Well, this movie is kind of dated: Maybe that's what happened to them! There used to be trash cans, But one too many half-eaten McDonalds cheeseburgers– They went nuclear. They just got up– walked away. Started chasing people. Too much coca cola. Them suckers grew eyes and legs and was like “Ah hell naw” “WE IN UPTOWN?” “we in uptown new york city?!” “AH HELL NAH” We in uptown! Lets get the fuck outta here! They wasn't even chasing them people in the movie They're just like “WHERE'S THE EXIT” “FUCK THIS PLACE” “THIS BETTER NOT BE DA BRONX.” “FUck outta here.” FUck this movie. And the whole time, Dorothy just look terrified. Terrified with a bad afro. Just look terrified; NO range of emotion whatsoever–just 0.0 But with the worst afro i've ever regretted. No. This movie is all wrong. Ain't no lollipop guild in this motherfucker! You know Richard Pryor was high as hell when he thought this one up. I'm assuming it was his idea. Who else would proclaim themselves, As the Wizard of Black Oz?! Of course. The african sweatsshop choreography was phenomenal, however. Yes, i just said that. This joke was pretty much pre-determined; I didn't even have to write it. I was just dictating. Yo. “What the FUCK.' Actually, that last part is inaccurate. I had to look it up I had to fact check myself. I did some digging; And come to find out– a white man wrote it. What in the actual fuck. I'm almost like “No wonder though.” That was fucked up. Come to find out, Dude who wrote is name is “Joel” White dude from new york. He went to Parsons! He went to Parson's school of Design And then wrote “the wiz” Goddamn! What goes on at Parson's? I know it's Downtown, But gotDAMN. I'm just saying. I did not like that movie. Powerhouse cast. Revolutionary for its time; But absolutely the fucking worst. Fuck The Wiz. Gimmie the old version. Gimmie the KKK and the actual midgets, I don't give a fuck. KKK MGM Same difference, yes? The Wiz was like LSD vs PCP; I'm like “nahp.' Fuck that. Get me the fuk up out of here. Had to look it up, And then i realized: No wonder why I don't like it: [beat] It was shot in QUEENS. FUCK QUEENS. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

https://iservalan.com

“Seth Meyers And the Cauldron of Doom” OMG— YOU have a cauldron of doom?! I have a cauldron of doom!!! DO NOT SHAKE THIS SNOWGLOBE. I had been avoiding Rockefeller plaza for months as it was, without the sometimes accidental ending up there anyway, and I thought not once but twice or three times about changing into my regular pants so that the deep pockets could hold my keys and passports sans wallet— or a purse and considered taking a notebook as well; on the list of prohibited items were backpacks and large bags, and though the dress code seemed to be null in void at all, I was happy to be able to wear my hat at least— and almost prepared to be dogged out, the last min it e change into my harem pants would probably be the comfortable choice; looking intentionally dressed down as a statement—a broad statement that I wasn't looking to be noticed at all, or trying to be noticed. The guest for the show was nearly an EGOT winner, probably younger, and definitely skinner and more beautiful than I was; a black woman, but a British woman, and it would be almost entirely impossible to think that besides Whoopi Goldberg, an American black woman would strive to win such a thing as an EGOT herself. Still, I was looking for a cure to the writer's block and crippling depression that I had been in, however—knowing who the president of Peacock was, and after the elections at all's though I knew NBC to be left-leaning— I didn't feel at all as if I would ever belong on the stage, and was quite happily taking my place as simply a fan…and audience member, though ready to creep back into obscurity, and probably more likely than not with a pint of Ben and Jerry's after the show. I had gone to see Drew Barrymore sand makeup, and would do the same, but only as a proclamation that I had read Tina Fey's book nearly religiously now rounding three times, and I almost wish I had an oversized black t-shirt which read “hot water heater” to accompany my lax look and blonde hair—a testament to her correctness standing, as the grossities of tinder loved “the blonde”, almost as if, without the hair I would be ugly, and just as much in the same breath, unworthy of such status anyway. But more than anything, I just wanted to be able to write again, at least for my own sake, and certainly not for anyone else's. I was still in hiatus, for the better, and had not completely recovered from the unbearable racism and parallel of doom the election had tossed me into with trajectory—in this world—supposedly “fascist”. I was comfortable enough in the jeans, but had nowhere to put my phone. I was ready to be dogged out and shown what a real a list celebrity looked like, and why I simply wasn't one. I left the house with a sink full of dishes, an unmade bed, and a pile of laundry unfolded—a pile of books in boxes I had collected for my son but would cost too much to send—almost as a testament to his sick I had been since the election. In this world, I was just another poor black fat single mother— a dead beat living in poverty. In trump's world, I was an ugly, poor nothing. Everywhere I had gone about the past week, the rich seemed richer and the poor poorer, the whites whiter and the blacks blacker, good gone and evil fleeting, with the return of the motorcycles and pieces of me dying, simply giving up. I planned my return to the workforce, and the eventual fortitude of my freedom; the wealthy had become more arrogant, and the rest of us more distraught. What was I going to rocketfeller plaza for, anyway? The news. My apartment was disgusting, but at least I had been to the gym—I had run the full mile and lifted and pulled, all with the gym to myself. My harem pants still felt even better, and for the first time in me months I ventured into the world in only one waist trainer. Be prepared to be [lost in a revolving door Be cool to the two dudes in blue suits goddamnit I never know where I'm going in this bitch. I can never breath in this bitch and I don't know why. How do you get lost at the rock? Like this: [Infinitely Lost at Rockafeller Plaza] This is why I avoid this place like the plague. Maybe I'm the plague. First of all, there's no track on the floor upstairs. (I've never been upstairs.) It's just store after store of ways to spend money. This is my only pair of clean socks. No shit, this is the reason practicing your mantras on the train becomes dangerous. DANGEROUS. Somewhere in the frenzy, I remember this. Frequency, however, Not yet partial to my own inner self, and empty in the array of superstardom, I become nothing, Only a spectator of celebrity— And now, suddenly. 8 remember this day Why? Suddenly, now, in the Is moment. Where I always have been, waiting for myself— I avoid Rockerfeller plaza at all costs. Why. I heard a grimlin lives here. Now is the time for Skrillex! I would really love you forever if you didn't. Que the Arc! Oh boy, this writer's block is a doozy. The only reason I had even bothered was because it was as if I had been summoned, as if something had clocked in my sense memory where, all of a sudden, looking at an unrelated picture of some kid on Tinee, with his hands covering his mouth the way that Stefon always did, made me immidiately stop whatever I was doing—probably eating tacos or pancakes, insurmountably out of bounds— and pausing the comedian I was watching instead, just to watch Stefon, and in the way that I remembered it all, it made me laugh. Although now, I knew exactly what he was talking about by the avant-grade and strangely abysmal club scene not just of the time, but of any time in New York City— and, somehow summoning a laugh even in the darkness that had been my own distraught and depression in the previous weeks, something of a belly roll laugh might have triggered something in the alrgorithm to send last minute tickets to my email in almost that exact moment. Are they going to tell me to take off my hat?! There was no dress code, They had better not tell me to take off my motherfucking hat. I won't do it. Fuck Seth Meyers . I'm not taking off my hat for Seth Meyers. Oh yeah. That's why I'm here. I found it hard to say that I was there for such a thing; I— I turned off my peripheral vision and hyperfocus. I didn't know there would be music. Goddammit. I had deleted Shazam filming for I love New York, an all but abandoned project—the writer's block had been too real, and now the real rest had come—would I laugh at anything in show show when in reality I wanted to cry? The way the lights kept going up and down as if it were intermission only slightly distracted from the fact that I had never seen a page in real life. THEY EXIST . I had never seen an actual NBC PAGE. GODDAMMIT GET THIS BLUE SUIT LOAFER WEARING MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF MY PERIPHERAL BEFORE I LOSE IT. Shoot a midget at her. What. Just do it. Don't do that. What Don't put the midget in the cannon. What! Thays's what he's here for! I'm a stunt double! This is a stunt. That's a horrible joke. That's not a joke. SHAZAM. WTF IS THIS. Some top 40 bullshit. Good, get it ( I'm never going to have any other l exposure to top 40, ever in my life. ) Congratulations, you've made the A list What?! NO FAIR. What. What does that mean. It means I can't do shit and mandatory attendance to everything. What is everything “Everythin—g.” Man, fuck this. Alright At this moment, I realize I must be some sort of autistic. Let's get this over with… I let the sound of my own mix blare in my ears to drown out the sound of whatever pop singer was on over the loud speakers; I didn't realize there would be music, and I hoped the flutter was good l. Maybe it was the lights, or whatever, but— SUNNI BLU what in the fuck dimention is this . It's the same dimension, you're just drunk. Ah. Now what? I was as uncomfortable as ever, there was a track on the higher level, but it didn't matter, the cattle call was contained inside of velvet ropes— black ones, unlike the typical red ones, and it was at this point I realized that not only had I never seen actual NBC pages— Yo, their skirts are kinda short… RIGHT. I THOUGHT THE PAGES WERE THE PARAGON OF SANCTITY! No, those are, um… Nvm. Maybe the ugly shoes distract from the shortness of their skirts on the general basis. Oh come on, nobody gives a fuck how ugly your shoes are if your skirt is that short! These are facts, Liz. No, I'm serious what dimention is this. I already told you. I had to ask for directions three times just get here. THIS IS MY LEVEL. why is your level on acid. Cause. This is—just— Where I'm at. CUT TO: Jimmy Fallon after Mardi Gras's. Come on that's not fair! {Enter The Multiverse} What exactly isn't fair?! He's in all the scenes. Well, how else are you going to explain a time traveling helicopter?! Got him. THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. I'm not going to pa— Goddamn it. I'm not going to p— It actually hurt not to write and just stand there; but I still didn't feel like myself—or sound like myself—or look like myself; I was playing a character, I just didnt know who. As I moved forward in line, the music began to fade away behind me and into the nothingness that was whatever was behind, in front of, and all around me. I hated cattle calls, but after all, I was still just a fan and as the world began to fold into chaos, I realized that my pants were falling off of me, though I had been feeling fat, and walking, and running, and cycling, and protein shaking—the only thing that had gained any extra weight was my ass, which was exactly what I was intending on hiding with my same old usual harems. My blonde hair made it so that I stuck out like a sore thumb, but that didn't matter, I was a walking statement piece and almost in a fit of tears just thinking about my own status; the NBC pages probably all had crazy incredible accolades and numerous degrees and achievements—what was I, if anything at all— ? I had put the candles out, but had I left the stove on? Did I really unplug the nail dryer and leave the stove on? I had almost washed all of the dishes, but stopped just short of right on time to leave; my producer brain was on fire and wanted more pancakes, but however hard I tried I could not find where I had placed my EBT card; probably for the better—celebrities didn't carry EBT cards, and even my awkward general being thrown off by the doorman or security— —whichever I wasn't sure— standing outside of the roller rink— probably ice this time of year, by the looks of the Zamboni in the foreground of it… ‘Don't stop writing, no matter what. ‘ Dammit, dammit dammit— That seems inappropriate. I told you to get this motherfucker out of my peripheral before something— Nevermind, don't write that. [redacted] (But imma remember this shit cause it's heavy.) A remarkable and accidental tableau, My feet flat to the floor, as my ankles bare, This is my only pair of hole-less socks. I feel so much better with my back against the wall and Listening to mau5 and, Not giving a fuck about the music playing Or the people watching But keeping it for later Forgetting how to codeswitch, Just an ever so limited existence Trying not to stick out like a sore thumb in the wrong world It's a long way up, But even longer way down, And in all the demoralizing humiliation and emasculation, I realize I'm no man at all, No man at all I realize I'm no man at all, No man at all, No mana I realized my son's Lego Lamborghini should be waiting for me as I returned to my apartment in Brooklyn probably starting but pretending not to care; I winced at everything— this was a dangerous disaster, to even be in the building at all and edging closer to death were the secrets I kept that were not only secrets, but non existences. Nothing in nothing and nothing— Oh shit, is the suffering done? This is the end of the End of the end It's the Beginning of the end It's the end of the beginning This will be the end Of the end Of the end, This will be the end of the end Of the end Of the end Of the beginning Of the end Of the beginning of the end. This will be the end Of the end Of the end Of the beginning of the beginning Of the end of the end Of the beginning Of the end This will be the end Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the end Of the end Of the end This will be the end Of the beginning of the beginning This will be the beginning of the beginning of the beginning This will be the beginning, The beginning of the end This will be the end of the end of the end This will be the end of the end of the end This will be the end (This will be the end) Of the beginning This will be the beginning The beginning of the beginning Of the end My friends. LET US COMMECE! All of it, this is recorded history, Smoke and mirrors, here portions and pardons This is probably why can't breathe at the rock Was I here last time; I choked last time I wrote nothing remarkable at all (Nothing remarkable at all.) I love getting lost at the rock Okay, this is the host— This is the host of the show (I think I lost my lunch before.) I was at a show, I never woke up, Okay; This is the host This is the host (This is the host) This is the host. Cue the Nirvana; Curtains go up, I don't want to see the show, I just want to host it. I don't want to get lost no more On the way to the rock Or the store Cause only one train goes there I wanna climb the straits to the top Get lost at the rock, Guess this isn't he host huh This is the lost god, That was a long walk The top of the rock off is a long jump And I'm still in talks how's every morning Someone told me not to ignore you So, this is the host, huh. Someone told me, go hard or go home (Almost time tknkove) Parenthesises, please and—Parenthetical, hypotheticals and paleontology's, Please, I need a mixologist (And anthologist) Please slow down to peace, Mr poltergeist, Please Mr poltergeist The ghost of Mr giest I'm doing a hiest Please, slow down mister poltergeist, Please for the peace Mr. Poltergeist, Or what have you? How old are you, 40. I'm the whole medium and still, Nice to meat you sir. A house made of mediums I hope that shock, And I hop to the rock there's still something in it A pogo stick Or a poltergeist Slow down, poltergeist. Terrible timing, Victoria Beckham and monsuier, Please Mr, I mean it no more— If I'm Mr ooltergieat (A policeman and polgergeist) Please, sir, no jokes. All sandwhich, no buns and pastrmi, And all the God, I'm going cold, I'm going ghost again And a the god, on all the rocks, I'm going old, I'm going cold again; On all the God on all the rocks, I'm going God, I'm going old again Hold on again, mi got a song again? I'm just a serviceman WATCH OUT FOR THE DOORMAN. MORE FUEL. So all the Rockerfeller plazas on all the earths aim alll yhr parallel dimensions can actually communicate with each other RADIO CITY BABBBBBBBYYYYYYY! OH GOD. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE Did you get his dog's name!? I think so. Good. [meniacal rubbing of hands] good. Cue the nirvana. Cue the m— Mitosis. The migos. Nah, I can't catch the flow. There it is. [the flow is a literal] Something medicinal in this meniacal, is this I spy a specscle, monocle— monopoly, Time to go, it's the devil at my left; Time for the fight against darkness, And it all is, Cause this is the ark, Noah This is the arc, God. This is apartheid and apart from that. You're fired. What. You heard me. But—I'm Seth Meyers. That's debatable. I am! I'm Seth Meyers. If you say so. This is nonsense. It's not nonsense. It is nonsense. And it's also impossible; cause this is my show. It's my show, I'M SETH MEYERS. Debatable, Not debatable. I'm ME. THAT'S ME. Debatable. I can't even hear the words, But the bass is so fire, I summon Shazam! …I want a ham sandwhich. Oh good! He's alive. Ham. Sandwhich. What the fuck happened buddy?! Where were you man?! —Zoolander. What. disleylandhamsandwhich. Get him a sandwhich!!!!! YO QUIERO CUBANO. Here's your sandwhich. CUBANO. Remember what you look like Who you are What your place is What you weigh, And Check your status Remember how still started What your mark is And what happened to your wallet; Did you leave the stove on Do you put the show on; Did you miss your mark Your mom was hotter Please remember the circumstances In which you—- [BLACKOUT] After several days gone completely missing, Jimmy Fallon is found under the craft services table sleeping peacefully. The apparatus I entered in with Is not adjusted to this condition The biometrics are non concurrent; {enter the multiverse} I felt tragic. By the time I got back to my apartment, my ribcage was showing again—although I had only been wearing one waist trainer, it was the skimpy one, and it was already wearing, it was after all eight dollars. Really and once and for all, something had come over me at Rockerfeller plaza that I didn't understand. I was more awkward and nervous than usual, and sure that I should have eaten, but couldn't —even after a long gym session, there was no time for food before the show, and I had no stomach for it. I chose to as much as I could ignore the code switching, and the more I picked it up, the further my mind began to drift. —a door slammed. My documents were probably compromised, and my phone hacked which I might have guessed, but continuing the thought I had often wondered how or why anything could have possibly known what I had written, or how—or how anyone would know what I had written, or of the things I had written, and most importantly of all—what did I write?! Most of the previous months' entries into the festival project were a blank, and the time I had spent considerably enough sifting through whatever masked man acting in part of Fallon, whoever he really was had been turbulent, as if I had been disfigured to be brainwashed into half a mind—then, slowly peeking back the layers of such a chaotic artifact of time and this, Seth Meyers, to whom now I had become a loyal fan, an actual fan—and had noticed something ingenuously crafted here. A genuine and talented, very kind and gifted man, who was not in any sense miserable or in peril. Peril, so to speak, as I remembered the almost villainous approach that the decent into madness had accompanied this Fallon and his mask, and besides this was the assumption that Seth Meyers, though professionally trained as such, seemed happy. Fallon did not. We had all learned to craft masks in order to protect our inner selves—however, with such a veil lifted as the partitioned screen of all does, this spoke to me with numerous volumes and sometimes even screamed, with the ethics of no worse a gentleman than some surgeon soldier or sailor and no more a nobleman than a king or god itself; I had not been Shocked and all but murmured even to just the slightest gawk of just an awkward cry, a muster of some shallow disaster which had called me to all of them— to whom I had loved and yet somehow not known, at least being here—and here I was, slightly convulsed, bearing no armor and gripping at the fortitude of death's barriers; On wheels with no bearings plummeted towards a forged death of sorts, by my own hands but also at the hands of others, the forgery calling from the halls of a place I had known as once my own fortress; but was no more. I belonged and now, almost with gratitude, to the eye of all gods, and all things that moved. No cherished nature, perhaps, was this into my own eye, but of disgust for what I had not yet accomplished, and still might never— I was a skull and crossbones with no love, and nothing known at all besides my own. —Tales of a superstar DJ “16 Songs” I got it. What's that. The thing that sets Seth Meyers apart from the other hosts. What is it? Seth Meyers is not a host—he's an anchor. Goddammit, you're right . I know I'm right. GODDAMIT. It just took me this long to figure it out . Great. Now how long's it gonna get you to take this thing fixed. Possibly forever. Entaer The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

That girl from the Uber teen commercial is so remarkably beautiful. I hope she has a long and successful career. Black beyond measure-/ Wat. I'm so black, you can't measure my blackness. What in the fuck BLACK BEYOND MEASURE. BITCH. Nooo. What. What is that. I can measure my blackness. To a t. But yours!? Oh no! You're black beyond measure. What does that entail? Obviously it's a positive thing— So black you are black beyond measure. Woah, Nelly! woah now! Okay! “Oh, how black are you?” I'm like “One half, exactly” She's like “¼— a quarter black, a quarter Cherokee” How black are you?! I AM BLCK BEYOND MEASURE, BITCH. DAYUM. That's a lot of black. Oh, so I guess the door slammers are back cause I emptied my bank account on housing goods? I guess. Maybe it's triggered by some sort of poverty alert system Sure. That's hilarious. I keep way more cash on hand than I do in the bank, And my internet bill is due and everything, but after that— I'mma still be okay. Fucking pansy drones. What do you think they are? Underpaid. Download this app now for TRACKERS. Huh. And $10 Really? Yeah. Complete this mission: What mission. Go— over here. Ok. Now do this. Huh. Don't forget to wear red today. Why red. Meanwhile Hey. What's up. You should wear blue today. Alright. Why. Cause we hate the democrats and you're a fucking loser. What. It's brainwashing. Wear blue. What. Wear blue! Ok. Wear these— super nice— like red sneakers. Ok Check it out. This red motorcycle is on sale. What's up what's up. Get your red gear, highly affordable, street wear, outerwear—look just— nice looking stuff— wear red! Why?! Cause we hate the democrats and all the fucked up people are wearing blue today; you fit the look, okay, just wear red, and act conservative; don't question too much and stuff, be a robot. Okay, what am I supposed to do. Never ever wash your sneakers— Okay. Make sure they are white. Alright. Wear white. Uh huh. And be crusty. Damn. The Dillon Francis decoys are back. For what, I wonder. I don't know, but that's impressive. Would you say this is an act of magic, or manipulation. Could just be some bizzare genetic anomaly. Could be. I don't know though, could just be I like lookin at him, and this is God's way of letting me without being a creep . It's still kind of creepy. Remember that this is happening to me and around me with no provocation whatsoever besides this series. He hasn't even been written into the series lately. That much, Dammit. That's because I stopped listening to his music . Why. It was giving me heartburn. Valid, And I realized: Goddamn. His eyes are devastating. What in the total fuck, God. WHY. WHY. (Almost cries) Alright, don't do that— don't— just — Here. Okay. Okay? Yeah. Damn. *sniffles* You remember that kid with the awful eyes — Which one? The— Oh, the Adonis!? Yeah. That's my son. You son of a bitch. Stay dead, bro. That's not fair! Okay, now— Play dead Play dead. Roll over. Shut up. You shut up. Shit for brains. Come here. WHERE ARE YOU? I'm— like out here, my nigga. Once again, I am not your “that thing” You mean that word? No, I mean that thing— Cause if you're gonna make it a thing, It's a thing. It becomes a thing. A thing is a thing! Agreed. WHERE ARE YOU? I'm out here, Tina Fey. I'm still out here. Where are you at? I'm at THE ROCK, like you said to be— At the time you said to be— With the things you said to be— waiting for you to show up here LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD BE. then that's where I am. WHAT. See ya soon. *hangs up cosmic space intergalactic space phone* Does that thing not have a name? Almost nothing has a name at this point it would be redundant. Heeeeere kitty kitty. Let me just jump in to remind you real quick how this season arc started with a kite Apparently it's a three season arc Apparently, it's a 10-season arc cause the whole rock-kite thing started when I was on set for The Bachelor and Kesha said that fucking thing about a rock and a kite and it blew my brains out of my head that day. Also acid. Also that, but also— Skrillex. Facts. I got a fax. Whats's it say. “Go fuck yourself. “ Ah. Whose it from. You're— not going to believe this… Why? Cause I don't. What's it say? It says it's from you. Hm. Does that not— suprise you— in any way? Check the date. It says —wait for it— Okay, now this is odd, because it's today's date, But it says it's from the year 1996. 1998. Yes. Okay. Is that— okay? I'll see you later. Where are you going? I'm gonna go fuck myself. — I— [leaves] —-???? [beat] Is that a metaphore for something??? {Enter The Multiverse} lol why is Jason Sudakis in this series? Cause why not? And I don't know, I think he's got an arc It's a weird arc, man. What. CUT TO: asia “Ali's joints” So you have to like, purposely slamnthisndoornfornitntonbe this loud then? Tried and tested. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

SUNNI BLU becomes a man. I guess. Golly. You sure do seem intolerant. Are you sure you don't want a Peloton. I want to live in a white neighborhood And make enough money That my white neighbors Actually respect me For whatever it is I do. Working on a Saturday. Calm down, Jew mom. I will not clam down. In this house, we abide by holy law! Hold on. What happened. I got distracted, this girl looks just like Edie Falco. Oh, I love Edie Falco. Right? I realized how bizarre my creative process really was, in that days I would get the most work done musically, I became physically restful, and complacent, not worrying about the gym so much as the energy I would use rather towards the music I was making, or the over all lacsidasical approach I took to everything. Not being an entirely-perfect stepford- divorcee with a bleach clean everything in my median space, I realized it was almost a more natural kind of creature that created my music; one who ate and acted normally, and was overall less of an anally retentive bitch—not to say that my normal self was not an anally retire bitch, I was, but it was that my creative process seemed to require more normalcy and averageness; eating regularly, What the fuck man. Idk. I got bored The wheels start turning The pages in my mind become phenomenon, I almost bought it I almost bought the dream; Another story arc. Trust, or don't trust? I don't know— these guys are like the ultimate fluffers… MEAT CIRCUS. MEAT CIRCUS. Okay, I love them. …did she light the candle? Oh look, a candle. Hm. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. THEY ADDED GPS TO EDC so then. How many of us are there. Hey. Everybody sit the fuck down, right now. [drones sit down] There she goes. Dammit. Why are you really this short in person? On God, because I'm really this short, irl. Skrillex. NO. Get over here for a second. Wanna go to Disneyland? On my life, I'm like in Cancun right now, but— But what? I'll catch the next flight. “The Uptopia” I thought about finagling a way to get into EDC for like 5 seconds before I remembered what it was, And that i'm a DJ And that it looks cool and all— But sounds, generally like a total nightmare. Not because it wouldn't be fun or anything- a It just wouldn't be fun— —for me. EDC part III Haven't I been to edc more than 3 times already. (Try like 30 times.) —that's enough times. THATS NOT ENOUGH TIMES GIMMIE MY BOX! DID YOU GET THE MAGNET . I GOT THE MAGNET. GET IN THE— Goddamn, dude. That's a lot of magnets. It's really not. Man, what the fuck would even happen if I fuckin actually focused on this project I don't know. I like, haven't focused on this project and it seems like, possibly, maybe I might have brokered some kind of deal that may or may not include Coca Cola and NBC. This dude might be trying to rule the world. All the dudes might be trying to rule the world, I think. Well, what if we put them all in a group together or something —seems—doable And maybe if they're not trying to kill each other, hey the end of of— Oh, look. World peace. Nice. —it. Hm. Let's just say, Altogether I give a total of actually zero fucks— Ah hah And at the end of the day, I just want some dick. How is that going to help achieve world peace, exactly. Fuck around and find out. Ladies. Here, yo. Guy, what's this. A midlife crisis waiting to happen. Oh no. Don't worry, it's almost over. My midlife crisis? No, the part before that. Jellyfishing. I don't know, Patrick, seems like kind of a strange day to go jellyfishing. Just—relax. Jesus Christ. (Soft telephone voice) This is the messiah speaking. Uh…hi. How may I direct your call? Uh… Hello. …is your dad home? Euh…probably not, but I can get you my mom. …that might work. Okay, hold on. (Not telephone voice—actually atrocious Boston accent) MAAAAA. …Jesus Christ. What? TELEPHONE. ring ring. Bitch! Ring ring ring! —bitch! Ring ring ring. —BITCH! Yo! What!! Answer the phone. The phone is ringing! Why do you keep saying “bitch”?! Cause that's a bitch ass telephone, bitch! This is improv! I know! And the first rule of improv is to not saying no, but I refuse to answer a telephone that just says “ring, ring”; that is not a realistic telephone, and so to that, I would just say—“bitch.” Bitch. That is not how improv works. I'ma aim at your head; you technically lost the game already stopping the scene; you said “ring-ring” I said “bitch”; you lost already, I done my part. What? Just—if you're gonna be a phone, be a phone, but don't just say “ring-ring” like that Take me all out of character and shit. What character?! All you said is “bitch!” And all you said was “ring-ring”, hoe—I ain't got time for this— What?! Just be a phone! THAT WAS A PHONE. What phone says ring-ring? Phone ring tone “Ring-ring!” What's that. That's my new ringtone. You're so lame. Well at least we got past the 90's and were clearly into the early two thousands. How do you know? That guy has a ringtone. Who is that guy, anyway—? wait a second! Oh shit. That's him! Get em! Ah, are we bringing back the Italians? I don't think they ever left, they've just been quiet. I want pizza. You're in luck. Goddamn kid! Pizza?! French fries. —I want chocolate cake. AND chocolate cake! Goddamn. You'd better be crafting a goddamn symphony. It's more of like a sonata. “The King Suite” Whatever! Just remember however far you get writing this album is how much more gym time it'll take to be taken seriously promoting it. I'm already promoting it. What, how? LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DAY. welcome back, kid. Shut up; give me a house. Give me a house song! Okay. OKAY, now downtempo. Downtempo makes me sleepy— but whatever, here. Okay, now techno. Untz-untz—here you are. All it took me was seeing Tiesto's ancient ass plastered all over the place in Brooklyn to realize I don't think it'll ever be “too late” to be a DJ and perhaps I could stand to focus on my other masteries. Whatever. I want chocolate cake . You are gonna get so fat. So? So is she when she pops out three kids— And her music sucks. Sauciness is relative. It sounds like shit in a fucking sandwhich. Just remember tiestos wife is actually like a decade younger than you. Great. I'm looking forward to all my favorite DJ's cradle robbing fashion week for this exact fucking reason. Is that a dig on one of the most legendary dance music DJs of our time? No, it's more of another pondering as to why I wasn't born a 9 foot tall porcelain skin blonde European looking model. I must have done something wrong in a previous existence. Have you tried paddle boarding? That seems /lame Fun! If I start now, maybe by May I can be EDC fit. What's the point of being EDC fit and not going to EDC? Hm. Okay. I can get a peloton, Or EDC tickets— Which should it actually be? What's the point of having a peloton If you're not going to EDC. Correct. But also— Why bother going to EDC at all if you're not going to be mad ripped from riding a peloton all day in your apartment. Also facts. That's what I'm here for Suddenly, I was acting weird. [being weird] Well, weirder than usual. Suddenly, my mind was racing— I was running around my apartment frantically in a halter top that I was certain I looked fabulous in— [looking at least kind of fabulous] — lil bitz. I'm getting to the age where I haven't quite given up, But realizing I'm not going to be the ideal just kind of sits with me in little ways. I haven't let go of myself, I'm not all the way giving up, but I'm more like, settled and secure with myself. A little more self confident in knowing if I wanted just any old dude, I can go out and get one. But I've been saving myself for someone really special. I mean really. And it's been years since I had sex. Actual years, so like— I'm at the point where I can just keep waiting, But sometimes I realize how long it's been, For instance, when I'm shopping, And I'm just kind of, looking around online Figuring out exactly what I want— And I'm scrolling, looking at all the selections And I see this baguette— Like bread, guys. Like a French roll and I think to myself “I'll take that.” I'm getting kind of turned on just looking at it, like Realizing it's bread— I'm like “Ooh, look at this baguette… Oui oui.” lol the fuck is wrong with you. Honestly I'm just looking for vegan chocolate cake without having to make it. Are we a team? …uhhh… kinda depends on who is “we” But since I can hear you faintly in my head, I guess so. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had written something recently that might at some point become important. Hey. What. I like your five year plan. What fucking five year plan. The one from five years ago. Oh. Wait—what. Let's make it an 8 year plan. You mean 8 years from…from 5 years ago? See, you are good at math. —I—wait, what plan. Okay [chuckles awkwardly] See you later. What. Man, why do like half the characters in this show look and sound like Dillon Francis. Cause they're Dillon Francis. Might as well be. I had also has realized at a certain point recently that I would probably never get married again, and in my own right had set out to be “The Ultimate Lover!” Get out of here, Skrillex. What in the fuck is with that dude. What's wrong with him anyway. Something. Get out. FUCK, HE'S DEAD. Oh well. Not oh well! Someone's definitely gonna be upset about his. Probably! But that's an entirely seperate demographic. We can't be concerned with that. Not our business, The man is dead! You don't know, maybe he's just in A k-hole! [super duper dead] Whatever man. Just— Can you at least give me a hand with his legs. He's heavy. How can he be taller than he looks on TV— Goddamn, he wreaks! He hasn't even been dead long enough for that. I know, he just wreaks, man. Whatever. Look. Just— Ugh— Let's roll him into that tent over there. What. Just roll him in-/ Agh. And hurry up— Virtual Riot is about to start. Goddamn. The wooks. These aren't any ordinary wooks. They're frat boys Oh, that headdress, though. You remember the headdress! I remember the everything, I'm just— trying to forget. Crimes. Or at least—pretending to. You remember David after the dentist? [David after the dentist] AAAAAGAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH Well, this is James after The Jam. Mm. What kind Of Jam is this! It's—Jelly. Ah. You're dead. It's—really good. You know what— This is Sauerkraut. Happy accidents is getting weird. Man. I like it. Untz untz untz I just found this out, and I'm over the moon like exactic about this— I just found out you can like, totally buy 5 lbs of marijuana Over the internet. For what? I don't know. Sounds like a deal. Sign me up. Anyway, I found this out— Because I found this bread I like Yes— I know Bread to marijuana We are—making connections— Anyway, I found this bread I like From this one place, And I love this place so much That I begin buying this bread regularly— I love it so much that, I'm looking through all their breads in their bakery and I realize, “Holy shit—they just have the most insane bakery, ever.” Like all the breads are sounding phenomenal— They're real bread— Most bread if it's real bread is vegan, So I'm looking through the bread like, “Holy shit, this all sounds fire—“ And when I like a place a lot— Especially in New York, I get weird about it. Like, I want to know the origins of the place. I love history— History—cannabis—and bread, I know. “Whose the lucky guy?!” lol. Nobody, obviously— if this is my life; but I digress. I'm looking at all these breads, All these artisanal, like— Fresh cakes and, Really unique like, Breads of every kind— And I start thinking to myself “I love this place.” “I love this place” So I start thinking about like the origins of this place— You know like, historically— Like, Sometimes you find cool stuff out about a place Macy's or whatever, Has cool history— Like the oldest surviving wooden escalator Being at the flagship department store in midtown Stuff like that. I love history— So I go to look up this place— I type this place into the search bar with absolutely no other specifications than I think, The name— And the first link that comes up Is a fire sale of 5 pounds of “hemp flower” But from the picture I can see that it's evidently really Complete marijuana— Actual cannabis flower; So I look into this matter, and I investigate this link a little further to figure out— “What is this?” And as it turns out, my suspicions are correct, You can now obtain large quantities of marijuana Via a Google search— By complete accident. I'm like, “Woah!” [Bookmark the page and shit.] “Keep that in there for later…” You know, just in case I ever have $2,200 dollars roughly of disposable income and ever feel like upstarting my very own drug enterprise… Er, restarting— But the drug enterprise I had in college was nothing like this— This is next level. Its the internet age now, buddy! Shit is legitimate. Wait, sorry— is the statute of limitations up yet? Whatever. Leave no trace. There—are bigger fish to fry. lol. Bread, man. I love bread. You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you Doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) Cause it doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you It doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) I'm still in love with you— You know I'm still in love with you. You know what— Huh— Does lemon raspberry sound better or like, This caramel toffee? You know I love a good lemon ice cream— Lemon custard Posh. Ah, the hedons are back. /*herons (You know Insomniac's making their rounds. ) Getdamoney Getdamoney getda— Woah— hold up, what is this I don't know Looks lucrative Facts Hmmm— Worthwhile investment, perhaps Maybe, maybe Very well Getdamoney Getdamoney Getdamoney Take a look at this young buck, they said. So I did. Turns out, the jokes on me. Me, and all my old friends In all my old lives On all my old world Play games In other words, The world goes on, Then off, Then it goes on, We come home— To laugh with one another Me and my friends, We play games Out of body Mind games In the body Play lives, All for entertainment In the old world, We said “One” Off we run, I said So on, comes dawn again We all talk of old reunion. We all talk of— FUCK, man. It's non dairy. I don't give a fuck about your ice cream! We're all on ice cream. I don't give a fuck about ice cream! On, you don't. No! Alright. Done. You know, it's like one door opens— Another door closes; And that's true— But whatever fucking weird drone robots They're probably paying to just come in one door And out the other Are karma cannons— And by that I mean— Whatever's disturbing me; Will eventually disturb them— And maybe, just maybe— In the same annoying way. So one day somebody wakes up and writes an anthology saga about you. It's not about you, it's about me— That's what I said. And that's probably what happened anyway—is what I'm thinking—and either way, I'm just the protagonist of that series, anyway. That's—logical, I'm thinking. I'm also thinking. Man. It feels so good to just sit in silence. Yeah. It does. Didn't you want kids? Whatever. Abusive relationships suck. My version of our kid is hands down way better then your version of our kid. Hands down. Let's get down to the nitti grotti of things here. Nitty Gritty. 11:30. But that's when Tranwrexk is playing. Who the fuck is teaintwrext. No, it's. Whatever. Nitti gritti Okay, so I'm obviously like, not going to forget the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's— But I think maybe even the best part about it was the fact that it was like, a pug. I'm not really ready to go out in public or anything-1 I don't know— I'm like traumatized by the disparity of the human race, or whatever. But shout out to the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's. I don't know what he did. But if you're gonna beat your pug at the Trader Joe's, he probably deserved it. Goddamn you Marc Jacobs! This is what you get for leaving a puddle in produce section! Goddammit! What else are you gonna name a purebred pug that you take everywhere with you— Including Trader Joe's? “This is Marc Jacobs” We thought he was a puggle but it turns out he was a purebreed and we just got so lucky! He gets nervous around people— Sometimes especially at the Trader Joe's He just gets so excited! Bad Marx Jacobs! BAD! On another note why am I just not automatically genetically built like a 6'5 Scandinavian chick. Like, it's cool my legs don't grow any hair at all, but goddamnit I would rather walk fashion week and just— Automatically never be hungry. Imagine giving birth to a supermodel baby and just Here, baby— take this The baby is like: *milks for two seconds* Alright, I'm good. Are you sure, baby. The baby's like “I'm— all full” Are you sure? Baby's like yeah— put me on the treadmill for an hour, would you? I gotta go fast-crawl this all off. Breastmilk, whew. Heavy shit. Just set the incline to all the way up, alright— And make sure I turn up the propane pig to high volume I want to make sure I'm deaf in one ear And only have one brain cell I don't want them to think I talk to much. Mom's like, “Um, okay— are you sure you don't just want like, more breastmilk” Baby's like “No ma, put me on the treadmill and shut the fuck yo you fat cow!” Goddammit, alright. That's— Some kids are just born destined to be— whatever— you know? Me? I was destined to like food, but be pretty much allergic to it— Pretty much allergic to all of it. Not in the typical sense of like having a food allergy— Not getting hives or anything Just— Prone to max weight gain after minimal, regular fucking eating— Minimal fucking eating And maximum effort in the gym just equals More muscle Which, then, The excess fat will just sit on top of Sort of like— Just double fucking bad. It's insane. So that's two waist trainers Correct Two sauna suits Oh my God, what if he's actually 6'3? Who's 6'3?! Getawayfromme. Shoot that nigga. You have a nice double chin. Thanks, I got it myself Liz Nice. Comedy Central presents: roast of the hosts The comics of late night tv roast each other l HOw many jokes do I need? A lot. Let's start with the favorite Favorite? Nah. Jimmy Fallon looks constpated. Every time I see that dude, I'm like— —?! What's wrong with him. Also— Why do you look like the off brand version of Justin long? I smell a conspiracy. And aspercreme. What's up with your cheeks, bro? Are you a hippopotamus? — Jay Leno is like God's version of a live action caricature. _____ Why are you all Irish? ____ Kimmel— what kind of bird are you? —- . —- I've heard exchanging insults is like foreplay for comedians; now I'm genuinely starting to wonder how many of these specials have turned over into orgies. I always had a special feeling about Justin Bieber and Martha Stewart. I'm pretty sure we all did. Mama had a shotgun— And daddy hated broken glass I drink out of broken bottles Clasps slip from the hands That can't Grab Shit you're too fucking tall, anyway. The only person who's actually bigger than they look on TV Fuck that. What are you, 6'10? Stay the fuck over there yeo ming. Who drew you, Disney/Pixar? How do you be in a photo from head to toe; full body in the frame and still not be in the picture? This m'fucker's a ghost. Oh look. It's everyone's favorite blow up doll. WHY DO U LOOK ASIAN? WHO TF DID UR DAD KILL IN NAM? –KOREA? EITHER WAY. YOU'RE ASIAN BRO. You seem like that kid that used to walk up on his tiiiy toes and shit. You're weird, bro. That kid that used to walk up— —like this— That's that guy. Devil can't catch me if I don't sit still Still love Run around the world Ring around the Rosie I'm not broke, I jus got. Photo shoot coming up Hang up yo on the fence, Like paint I dry, Simi dinner hard Try hard see the light, go To the light now Go now, my time has come m Go where, how? It's time now for me to depart, my dear Ishii. Why—how?! Because, my boy—the time has come Time not what is! Time be us, you and I! And as we are, my dear boy. I must go. Time nothing but mind is you and I… You are right. Time — is— time. Ishii begins to cry softly, and then weep. Fair for fair and follow for follow— There not are I, And away we went, With wind and time, And the way was one The inside of a year, As the waking of dawn. At dawn, I strike— But was not called To weep, I wake, the tire of tale And yet the sun was in my heart, Yet not in my mind as the sky, And not in the time as the wind, and still, mi follow to love again I always call, And there, the wind where wind does lie, Not I, awake, but I instead as Sunset Again as time had sat upon my should And like bird does cry, The still be wind has shattered my love And in heart lives in such such dusk As pain, my heart, The wicked beauty, Shadowed and stranded Yet I awaken, And here ye, The vow dost took is not aligned— There I was, the call of once The statuesque and haunting Bleeding dry the river's way And almost as such there though of tears With yet had formed all shallow, and none The call of ways I mask misfortunes, There does bear a truth to the tree which bears fruit And give way to time, I am as oceans, Still as steady water's sky, and come what may Of all we have, There nothing lost, And there were fortunes True to shine as gold, And there in no way, Under us. Wax does melt but has not burned, As shadowtimes had set upon us, There, the call was made, and yes The wind had sat upon the waking dawn of eye And there, again the warrior ready for none other than the song of I, The cry of war, does wait unsettled in her wailing As their call had come As of naught, And then came, As does one. Be fair. Daggers! I rot. “Be fair”, says he. Daggers. I rot! Be fair, says I. Nay, The King. True, tis I. —and daggars! I rot. Wary. I find. So then, To have walked among the living and yet are dead— still you, waiting in quarry, Are now I not as King, As though now dost lie slain. Very. A greeting! Seeing now how such has i, Have passed and still yet waiting in how l My waking This fucker just won't die! Well, he can't. He can! (He should.) He has. Oh. Are you triggered. I knew I just have been getting somewhat important Somewhat. I figured this out when they started having people show up after I get to the gym. I knew they were all the same like people, cause for the the most part, they weren't working out, they would just like, align themselves with me, do a few pumps and then do whatever on their phones This one dude came in, and I was already sick of being followed Hadn't been to the gym in a few days cause these people just fucking bother me. Just fucking blows my mind how stupid people are— And I realized something really wrong with people. Like people are really fucked up inthe head, so, This is what I did, when I realized, they weren't going to stop fucking with me in a certain way, I started fucking with them back. I went upstairs to work out, started doing circuits. Did some pumps up stairs, Run the stairs like laps, Hit the tension machine, Kettlebells, Treadmill, then another circuit— {Enter The Multiverse} And I knew whoever was sending these people We're focused on fucking me up; Cause the people they sent were always like— Some kind of trigger. I knew it was some high level programming; They would send like a pretty girl with long hair To fuck me up Or some fat ugly dude who looked like my ex husband, Fat and shit, And they wouldn't workout much, they would just like, fuck around, then hit the phone— And I realized people were really fucking sick In the head, when I realized, After I psyched the fuck out of this fat dude Just fucking running circles around him and shit, Lifting more than he was struggling to fucking lift This dude is all upper body No fucking cardio No fucking legs Weak dick motherfucker. And I realized how sick people were when he goes up stairs And this is how else I know people are fucking with me They'll always get on the phone, And use their phones as intimidation and shit “Hi, yeah, yeah— I'm checking in. I'm a pussy ass robot and shit. Okay. Bye now. Wait—did you hit my cashapp yet? Okay thanks” How you know it's like an app or some shit. Fucking drones, man. But I could tell they were sick and I was somewhere in my way to wellness when, the dude left, then goes upstairs and gets on the phone, and I'm still downstairs and I'm like “Okay, since they're gonna keep fucking with me—when is the end of this album?” I went to check and I knew the album was an hour long— And I look and the album is on the last track and I thought to myself “I haven't touched my phone in at least an hour…” This dude has been in the gym for half the time and has almost not been off the phone He was on the phone more than working out And that's when I realized, Whether I skip a few days at the gym or not Whether I do what everybody else is doing or not Just that alone is rare. He was in the gym maybe a half hour or less And between every single set, he's on the phone Just like all of the other people who seemed to have been following me— And I realized That maybe they weren't even following me on purpose. Maybe they were being remotely sent in my direction somehow with their phones, without their intention or knowing. That is a possibility— And I knew the world had changed in a way that could possibly become dangerous, after being told for x amount of years we needed a SIM card, I've had my phone for almost 5 years, same model; up until now we “needed” a simcard— Now all of a sudden they're letting us know in one way or another “Hey, no we've always been able to remote control your phone” They've inteoduced the “e sim” which is their subtle way of letting you know They've always been able to turn on your phone signal Without you even knowing. Now they're selling you this technology “Oh, you don't need a sim—e sim” I looked, I didn't think my phone would be clmpatible It's a 5 year old model. “Oh no—it's compatible! Congratulations” Which means even 5 years ago before this technology became consumer, They had the ability to open your phone make calls texts and connect to a network They're just now letting you know This has been around for at least a decade And now they're selling it to you. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Lori takes off to make a couple of Thanksgiving pies giving the boys a precious few minutes to digress as they see fit, and naturally they immediately start talking about…outer space? Autonomous cars? Elon Musk? Goddamn it. Listen, if you must! Has something we said, or failed to say, made you FEEL something? You can tell us all about it by joining the conversation on our Substack or you can send us an email here. Enjoy!Show RundownOpen — On the difference between openers and closers8:24 — WGAS NewsBag1:32:58 — The Billboard Hot 100 Game1:48:25 — Wrap-up! BonhoefferRelevant Linkage can be found by visiting https://brainiron.substack.com/, where, if you would like to support this and the other podcasting and blogging endeavors of the Brain Iron dot com media empire, you can also become a paying subscriber.The opening and closing themes of Cast Iron Balls were composed by Marc Gillig. For more from Marc, go to tetramermusic.com.

I'm starting to feel like I'm not doing enough thanks to all my recent guest but GODDAMN did I feel like a lazy ass bastard compared to EVERYTHING Leon Literra can do with his 2 hands! (NEW) Bro to the show Leon Literra treats his camera(s) like art: he's serious about his craft! He also happens to be multi-talented and well versed in multiple instruments, including the flute! Making fluting cool again!! Oh yeah and he sings and raps but shhhhh, that's enough flexing for right now!!! Does he openly discriminate camera brands that he doesn't use himself? Why do fat kids wear shorts while riding bicycles in the winter?? WHY IS THE NORTH FACE SO MUCH MORE EXPENSIVE NOWADAYS WHEN THE QUALITY HAS CLEARY GONE DOWN??? *HOLD UP, gotta change my lenses* AND MORE on "Play her like a Jazz Note" - EP 129 of AhhFuGGiT ft. Leon Literra!!! HIRE HIM, SUPPORT HIM, LET THIS MAN MAKE YOU LOOK GOOD!!! https://www.instagram.com/leon_literra/ LIKE | RATE | COMMENT | FOLLOW | SUBSCRIBE https://www.youtube.com/whodissis1 https://www.twitch.tv/whodissis1 https://www.instagram.com/whodissis1 https://www.instagram.com/whodissbeenwatching https://www.instagram.com/ahhfuggit https://www.tiktok.com/@whodissis1 https://twitter.com/whodissis1 MORE AUDIO VERSIONS OF AhhFuGGiT: https://linktr.ee/whodissis1 https://soundcloud.com/whodissis1 https://open.spotify.com/show/6hyS2l2KdQDkX5rfNH5AIp https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/ahhf…it/id1084220877

Vinyl records play a significant role in Jay and Deon's lives. They're 100% obsessed with music. But how did this madness all start? Well, episode 40 of LLR examines their origin stories. Ten classic artists who helped shape the Lickers' sonic identities are discussed while another crackin' mixtape is curated, created, and (hopefully) cranked. God gave rock and roll to us, Goddamn it! Put it in your souls already. Sonic contributors to the fortieth episode of Lightnin' Licks Radio podcast include (in order of appearance): Brothers Johnson, dialogue from Peter Pan Records' "G.I. Joe: Escape From Adventure Team Headquarters" storybook, DJ Sanz, James Todd Smith, Boy Meets Girl, Berlin, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, The Treacherous Three, T La Rock, Rick Rubin, Beastie Boys , NPR's A. Martinez - Kye Ryssdal - Leilah Fadel, Dolly Parton, Whitney Houston, Dr. Pascal Wallisch, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Queen, Elvis, Tommy Durden, Wings, James Horner & Will Jennings, Celine Dion, Right Said Fred, Greta Van Fleet, Dave Brubeck, Mac Demarco, Moose Charlap & Jule Styne, Jerry Goldsmith, M.M. Knapps, library “space” music and read-along storybook dialogue, Arc of All, Jim Kirk, Casey Kasem, Van Halen, Dion DiMucci, Leif Garrett, Jeff Barry & Ellie Greenwich, Shawn Cassidy, Gregg Diamond, Andrea True Connection, Sir Reginald Kenneth Dwight*, Stevie Wonder, Bernie Taupin, Norman Whitfield & Barrett Strong, The Undisputed Truth, Perry-Perkins-Johnson, Honey Cone, TV adverts from Firestone Tires and Post cereal's Pink Panther Flakes, The Jackson Five, the Motown Players & the Funk Brothers, the King of Pop*, Cameron Crowe & Nancy Wilson, Still Water, Temple of the Dog, Sweet Water, The Dust Brothers, Afrika Bambaataa, Dudley Taft (brandishing his axe and ripping a bong), Black Sabbath, Dancefloor Destruction Crew, The Wrecking Crew, The Partridge Family, Wally Gold, Idris Muhammad, Led Zeppelin, Beastie Boys (again), Alice Cooper (band), Digable Planets with Wah Wah Watson, Michael Franti and Spearhead, Jimmy Buffett, Disposable Heroes of Hypocrisy, Three Dog Night, Hoyt Axton, Randy Newman, Paul Williams, Russ Ballard, America, Rainbow, Cheap Trick, Freda, Argent, Wilson Pickett, Wu-Tang's RZA, Pinback, Three Mile Pilot, Lou Reed, Goblin Cock, Fruer, Black Sabbath (again), Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Jethro fucking Tull, the Source of Light and Power, DJT, Eric B., Soul Coughing, The Clockers. Love at First Listen mixtape [SIDE 1] (1) Sweet Water – King of '79 (2) King of Pop - GTBT* (3) Spearhead – Positive (4) The Partridge Family – Lay it on the Line (5) Pinback – Loro [SIDE 2] (1) Alice Cooper – You Drive Me Nervous (2) #6 Pop Hit W.E. 04_FEB_1984* (3) Jethro Tull – Two Fingers (4) Beastie Boys – Live at P.J.'s (5) Three Dog Night - Liar Thanks for Listening. Autumn has fallen. Do your best to not jump into a ravine. Please shop for your music locally. We suggest ⁠Electric Kitsch⁠. Drink ⁠Blue Chair Bay⁠ flavored rums. Feeling like jumping into a ravine? There's ⁠help⁠ available. *some details have been changed

Of Funerals and Families; Part One In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Victory is neither pointless, fleeting, nor soon forgotten. It is yours.” I have been warned that my Uncle wants me dead. My Aunts want me for; other things." "What do they want?" E asked. It was the whole 'men as a true asset' problem for her. "The whole repository of nefariousness;” Pamela started to explain, but then, "Double Word Score!" Pamela and I exclaimed excitedly then 'high-fived'. Yes, you spiteful Cosmos, I had found my soul-mate and she was a near-octogenarian with a macabre sense of humor; who also had a telepathic ability to know my mind. E looked totally lost in the exchange. "Yes; the whole repository of nefariousness was created to be sterile," Pamela picked up the conversation. "Which makes the very existence of Cáel here very noteworthy; virtually inexplicable," she mused. "What have the labs at Havenstone think of this?" Rachel worried. "I refused to go back in for any more tests," I met her gaze. "But it could be important," E joined in. "I will make it easy on you both; I'm a horrible person. I'm the Head of House Ishara and I elect to not put my fate in the hands of the same people who leaked my very existence to the Illuminati during the first set of tests," I stated. "Which is why I'm here in Chicago burying my Father, in case any of you missed it." "Certainly knowing what is going on is more important than the risk of further exposure," E persisted. She got kudos for sticking to her guns. "Esmeralda, I work for Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services," I responded. "By that I mean I have this nifty little glass table in a corner of her office. Me stressing over my genetics isn't really important. Katrina is on the case and I haven't been out of college for two months yet. If the difference between Havenstone getting in a fight with the Illuminati and keeping the truce is my blood sample, she'll let me know," I added. "As far as Ishara is concerned, Havenstone had an information leak that got a house member killed." "Do you have other family?" E inquired hesitantly. "Blood kin? Not in this country and certainly not anyone I could name," I sighed. "I case you are wondering, there are a grand total of three members on Ishara's roster." "Is the rest of your family safe?" E was trying to sound upbeat. "Safe? Of course they are not safe. They both work for Executive Services, Esmeralda. They were 'Runners' who I inducted into Ishara. They are Amazons of the Host and that means never being safe this side of the cliffs. Friday morning I presented them to our ancestors and they were welcomed as equals; as sisters to those who have the blood of Mycenaeans on their hands," I turned to look out the window. "What was it like?" Tiger Lily inquired. "The induction." "If you are looking for a vision of a stone hall with thousands of war-like Amazons holding me in judgment, you'll be disappointed," I recalled. "I had to create the ceremony from scratch; ash, tears and blood. "I felt strong enough about that instinct I let Desiree slap me until I cried enough tears. With Desiree's knife, I cut myself, they cut themselves and our blood mixed," I finished. "That is not how it is done," Rachel corrected me. "No," I stopped. "It is not how you do it. House Ishara has come back from the void that waits for all those who are dead and have no one living to recall them," I explained. "We are not the other Houses. We are both Love and Oaths and there is a lack of respect for each of those virtues in this World." "I never considered Amazons as overly romantic, but we are true to our oaths," Esmeralda was starting to bask in the openness of the exchange. "I do not doubt the integrity of anyone in this vehicle, except for me," I gave her a weary grin. "The failure of oaths is mine. Ishara was bound by an Oath and has failed in her pledge. You are wrong about the romance and I am sure you have misunderstood my definition. I live for the day when no sons are sent to the cliffs as newborns; Love, Esmeralda. Love." The hush pressed upon us until Tiger Lily pulled up in front of the Hotel Burnham. Rachel, E, Charlotte (from the second GL) and I went in. I wave the others back as I went to the desk. Rachel and Charlotte had grey duffel bags with 'stuff' inside. E had my minimal kit. "Cáel Nyilas with Havenstone," I introduced myself. Yes, I was in 'prison' gear. "Director Nyilas; welcome to the Burnham," he recovered quickly. "Which rooms do you wish to use?" Thank you, Helena, no I'm a damn Director. He twisted the screen so I could see the list. Eleven doubles and a Lakeview Executive Suite with two adjoining Deluxe Suites. "We'll use those," I indicated the Executive/Deluxe/Deluxe. "Very good, Sir," he nodded. "Will you be ordering room service? I'm afraid the Atwood restaurant has closed for the evening." "Sounds like a plan," I looked at his name tag, "Steve, or do you prefer Mr. McCabe?" "Steve will do fine, Director;” Steve started. "I will make it easy on you Steve," I sighed. "Call me Cáel. All this Director crap is for the benefit of people I barely know. I am here, in my hometown, to bury my Father; who was murdered yesterday." Steve paled. "The FBI gave me these spiffy duds. If any law enforcement shows up asking for me, give me a ring first." "Nyilas; from Burnham? I read about that," Steve seemed bemused. "The day shift Assistant Manager is from Burnham too." How wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Steven sensed my waning interest. "Your keycards, Sir; Cáel and my sympathy for your loss." "Steve, never miss a chance to tell your loved ones how you feel," I took the cards. "That is my biggest regret with my Dad. I didn't think about it the last time we talked." Steve gave a final nod. I rejoined my group and headed for the elevator. The rest was a tired blur. The rest of the group showed up, including Pamela. I called Nicole to tell her the situation then called Timothy despite the late hour to make sure he was okay. Timothy informed me that two 'psycho-chicks' stopped by as a kind of 'meet and greet'. I hit the small hotel fitness center with Mona, the fourth member of Rachel's team. It helped. What helped more was the constant reminder that I worked with smart people. Mona's mother was dead as well, killed on an undisclosed mission with the SD when she was ten. She could understand my sense of grief and confusion. We didn't cry and hug. It wasn't something she could do with a man. Give a decade, or two and she might come around. Instead, "Thank you for Constanza," Mona said quietly to me as we exited the center. "I measure a person's life in the lives we save; as well as the ones we take," I enlightened her. Before that moment, I didn't really consider killing people to be all that praiseworthy an endeavor. Today I had been in a situation where my life had been in immediate danger. I was glad the other guy ended up dead. Since I was prepared to keep acting stupidly, I was grateful for those who would murder people so that I could remain both noble of purpose and alive. "She is close to me; she helped me grow up after Mom was gone," Mona opened up a tiny bit. "Aren't you a bit angry with me?" I asked. "Initially, I was very angry. Then I heard your words and I knew you spoke the truth of the matter," Mona exhaled. "She should have died. She deserved death for what she said." "No one;” I started to comfort Mona. "For a member of a Faith that exults in the harshness of martial conflict, you spend an inordinate amount of energy struggling to keep people alive," Mona noted. "I'm glad I helped deal with those Latin Kings now. It was a mission worth doing." "What?" I stumbled. "Didn't Buffy tell you?" Mona regarded me. She smirked. "Yeah, we hunted them down late Sunday night and into early Monday morning. I doubt the few who escaped will ever be back." "Why haven't I; anybody heard about this?" I worried. Mona looked at me somewhat perplexed. "Cáel of Ishara, we always take the bodies of murder victims, cut them up, place them in large drums of acid and ship them to Canada," Mona informed me. "Ah; thanks for telling me that. Let's both agree to not let Buffy know that I know, okay?" I requested. "She'll get an inordinate thrill thinking she knows something I don't." "As you wish, Cáel of Ishara," Mona nodded gravely.  (Tuesday Morning) Sexual addiction is somewhat like military service. It requires you to be alert to your surroundings, think on your feet, follow procedures and; most crucial to me; shows you how to remain functional with minimal sleep. In this case, five hours sufficed to clear out my cobwebs and make me incredibly horny. All of that was despite the layers of upsetting news being placed before me. Executive Services had gone over the feed from the four SD members. Inadvertently, Dad had fought on the 'right' side. The team leader died first. Her back-up put two men in the grave and wounded a third before they tossed a grenade on her. I looked at Charlotte as she gave me the news. We both had a 'what the' expression on our faces. Grenade? I kept doing my calisthenics. The second two-Amazon group killed three attackers on their side of the building then charged the back door. I wondered if Mom's Garden Dragon was okay. It was like a Garden Gnome, except it was a Dragon. Mom was odd that way. The attacking group had blown the front door and entered the first floor. The Amazons in the back decided to shoot out the lock instead. While transiting the kitchen moving forward, the second group took fire; from a Zastava M 21. I was confused. "It is a modern Serbian weapon," Charlotte filled in the blanks. "Dad was killed by Serbians?" I muttered. "No," Charlotte sighed. "No he wasn't." Another look from me as I started my standing push-ups. "That team member was wounded. The shooter was taken down by both of our teammates. At this point, three other attackers moved from your front room to the dining room, pinning our team down. That was when your father broke cover and assaulted the attackers. He had this large lamp and cracked it over the right shoulder of the closest man," Charlotte stated. I knew that light fixture Charlotte was talking about. It was a floor lamp, nearly two meters tall, made of glass and bronze. My physique was from my Father; broad shoulders and powerful arms. That 'large lamp' weighed over 30 kg and, powered by my father's upper body strength, I was betting the guy who was on the receiving end had have some of his bones snapped. "The man screamed in Bulgarian, his two companions turned to see what was happening and the Amazons advanced by fire toward your father," Charlotte continued. "Your father swung again," she looked at me, "connecting with the man's chest. In response, the other two shot him three times. He fell. The second team pressed forward, killing the man your Father wounded and wounding another. The last unhurt Amazon was killed trying to get to your Father while the survivor was concussed by the use of a second grenade. We don't have the video of what happened in the interim. When the last Amazon began moving again, the two remaining attackers had dragged your father out the front door. She pursued and fired. She wounded the undamaged attacker; and one of her bullets ended your Father's life. She was wounded in this last exchange of fire. The two men helped each other to a vehicle and left." I kept working out as I made an acceptable collage of my misery. "Does she know?" I whispered. "Does she; the Amazon? Her name is Sabina. I don't think she's been informed yet," Charlotte answered. "Unless it becomes necessary, don't tell her that her bullet killed my Father," I sighed. "The only thing that is important to me; to Ishara; is that she gave her all as did her sisters. My Father was killed by the men who first shot him. Had they escaped with my Father, they weren't taking him to a hospital, so he was as good as dead anyway. That is all that matters." "Yes Ishara," Charlotte responded with quiet reverence. Knowing nothing of Security Detail's procedure and tradition, I had tossed out an excuse to spare a valiant woman a terrible piece of news. Charlotte's demeanor suggested to me that it would be a kindness conveyed. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tiger Lily came in from their suite. Mona had been my guardian while I slept so she slept now. This was our signal to shower and put on some clothes before the group went downstairs for breakfast. Pamela presented herself as I was getting dressed. Esmeralda's arrival signaled our migration to the ground floor Atwood restaurant. As everyone glided into the elevator, I had a nostalgic moment for Odette. A normal, non-lethal, happy young lady. This all-encompassing seriousness around me was crimping my efforts to find the silver lining in this personal calamity. Ten seconds after exiting the elevator, Nicole angled toward us then we proceeded to breakfast. It took a little jockeying and refereeing by me to get the seating arrangements set. Nicole was on my left then Pamela. Rachel and E were on my right. Charlotte and Tiger Lily were across from me as orders were taken. "How are you holding up, Cáel?" Nicole put a hand on my lap. I had no immediate reply. "Lonely. Sad. Alone. Bereft of anger; it is pointless. I want to scream, rage, tear things up, throw things across the room and hear them shatter; but not really," I confessed. Suddenly, a strange essence infused my core. "No, that's wrong. I am not alone. We have suffered more, lived through worse and never wavered even in the face of death," I said in a ghostly whisper. That was really the last thing I wanted to say. Its origin was from an enigmatic corner of my mind I was resisting venturing into. 'Taking oneself to the cliffs' made a whole lot more sense suddenly. The Amazon prepared her daughters and granddaughters for her absence. She volunteered to make that trek. In her heart, she called out to her Ancestors to prepare them to accompany her on that final journey. That all sounded like comfortable spiritual mumbo-jumbo, safely quoted by a rational man under duress. The abyssal rift in that psycho-babble, makeshift patch over my emotional pain was I felt Vranus and Ishara standing at my shoulders. Vranus because his seemingly endless quest was finally resolved and he and his descendants would at last be welcomed into the halls of their kin. With me, he had succeeded and brought his people home. There was still the matter of the rest; the three sons of Arinniti and the elder warrior. Holy Crap; they were still out there, waiting to be shown the path home. My 'Evenly Holier Crap' moment was feeling the weight of the eyes of Ishara upon me. Not Ishara, the matron goddess of this; my House, but that ancient Amazon who had surrendered her personal name to oblivion to give her followers a sense of unity. No female was solely 'her' daughter; all the women of the house were equal in birth and station. It was that Ishara who stood at my shoulder and, beyond some perverse desire to look behind me to see how sexy she was, I felt I had her; not approval; her mandate. We had to be held to our oaths and would die to a woman (and man) for them. We were to give the Host a second chance to make things right. There would be no retreat. It was not in the Amazon psyche to fight the relentless, remorseless and bloody battle; to risk everything on victory with no thought of failure. It was not something guys were accustomed to, but had been the doom of men down through the ages. Whether too romantic, too stubborn, or too bound to our brother's in arms, men had embraced hopeless causes before; mostly perishing without fanfare yet with the exceptional impossible victory to give us hope. From time immemorial, male kin of the flesh and spirit had piled their corpses one upon the other, refusing the verdict of combat for the sake of brotherhood and every imaginable ideal. It was hardly a trait worth sharing with the sisters. They would understand the pieces; not the result. My lack of political ability would not be disability. I simply had to learn to fight; a lot better than I did at that moment. The echoes of this message inside my head, the chilled air that filled my lungs and balance restored to my heart was bizarrely unfrightening. It would be an affirmation of the 'first directive' oaths all the houses had sworn. It wasn't my place to raise all the 'Runners', or even a single one. It was my duty to initiate the 'Worthy', no matter their number. My actions were mine. I would not shame the other houses. I would not consider their prestige at all. It was not my place in the same way it was not their place to tell me what I could and couldn't do. It was a divine 'Go get 'em' and it felt pretty, freaking awesome. "Cáel, are you okay?" Nicole asked in a worried tone. She squeezed my thigh. I looked down at my hands. I was okay. "Nicole, I have the blood of Ahhiyawa champions on my hands. I feel it's sticky, sickening ichor and smell the copper-laden, metallic odor," I smiled. "I think I'm going to be just fine." "Who?" Nicole was even more concerned. "Someone who screwed with me a long, long time ago. They are all dead, but don't worry about the bodies showing up to bother anyone," I grinned. All the full-blooded Amazons had been very still. The word 'Ahhiyawa' appeared to scare them even more than my haunting actions. To the Amazons, the Ahhiyawa were the Mycenaeans in the time of the Iliad. The problem seemed to be that I had never heard any member of the Host use that term and I was suddenly curious as to why. "You seemed to have went away for a few seconds," Nicole joked lightly. "You do appear better rested, which is good. What is on the agenda for today?" "Get my Father's body, prepare for his cremation, arrange for the last Roman Catholic Church we attended to send somebody to the service and prepare my parent's plot," I ran down. "I imagine the police and feds will want to contact me again," I piled it on. "I want to see my home if the forensic guys let me. What do you think will be aimed at me?" "We'll check up on any family attorney you may have had along with probating your father's Will, if he had one," Nicole assured me. "As for the authorities, let's see what kind of warrants they are asking for before we move beyond a 'denial' defense." "Denial, as in me claiming I didn't do anything because, ya know, I didn't do anything," I gave her a sleepy smile. "How about we eat first?" We ordered, drank our coffee, tea and juices while remaining largely non-communicative. It wasn't until the food began arriving did I realize I'd 'misplaced' Pamela once more. As I tore into a big slab of ham, I looked over my surroundings for the first time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I spotted Pamela then the 'big picture' kicked me in the nuts. Pamela was dressed as a server, coasting about the room, filling drinks, getting appetizer and performing the tedious little chores that waiters and waitresses had to pull off flawlessly. The other wait-staff noticed Pamela, but since she was making their jobs easier and not taking their gratuities, they ignored her. They probably thought she was some industry expert. The plates were being cleared away when Pamela returned, back in normal clothing. She dumped a pile of ID's on the table. Nicole picked them up. "Chicago PD; Organized Crime Taskforce," Nicole read off then glanced to Pamela. "ATF, Homeland Security, FBI, FBI, Chicago PD; Homicide, Federal Marshall and Federal Marshall." "What?" Pamela said between bites of her veggie omelet. "I took their identification, not their wallets. Do you want me to go back for those too; and their keys?" "No. We have risked Mr. Nyilas' freedom enough for one meal," Nicole shot back. She took Tiger Lily's empty plate, dumped the ID's on it then covered the pile with her handkerchief. "Hello," this officious young lady greeted us. I'd been distracted by Nicole's malfeasance so I missed the hotel's new Assistant Manager's approach. It was turning out to be a great morning for visitations from my past. This ghost was much younger than the last ones. Our eyes met. It was easy to see that I was the man in charge being the only man at the table. "Director Nyilas, I hope everything is going well for you and your staff this morning," she smiled. "I would also like to convey the Hotel Burnham's condolences at the passing of your father. I too was born and raised in Burnham." I already knew where she'd lived most of her life. Most critically, I very strongly recalled where she'd gone to school; all 12 grades plus K. "Cameron Sanders," I stood and extended my hand across the table. "You look familiar." Of course she looked familiar. Cameron had publically ground my soul into the grit that ants stepped upon. Her verbal rejection had been a pivotal moment in my life. After that day, I had taken responsibility for my life both anatomically and academically. Recall how I had said I was once a 'nobody'. Here was living proof. Cameron and I had gone to the same schools from Kindergarten through our senior years. We'd even shared classes and it wasn't like I could be confused with all the other 'Cáels' we'd gone to school with; because there weren't any. The same goes for 'Nyilas'. I'd been shifting the boner in my pants for three solid years because of Cameron. She had been hot in high school and she was even better looking now; Brooke hot. For a second, my confidence wavered. In that heartbeat, I realized she was just another woman and I was no longer that guy. "Where you an upperclassman at Thornton Fractional North High School?" she queried. "Hmm; do you recall Jenny Forrester?" I countered. Cameron knew her African-American rival, no doubt. The tweak in her smile said as much. "I'm going out on a limb; you look like a DePaul girl." Cameron's eyes twinkled. Her eyes flitted down to where her class ring normally held court. She had taken it off for work neutrality. "How did you guess?" Cameron tilted her hip suggestively. Sex. "So I'm right?" I reposed. I had 'guessed' right because Cameron crowed about her decision to go to DePaul over all her other offers. "I have some family business to take care of, Cameron," I nodded. "Can we catch up later today and figure out where we've intersected before this morning?" Translation: I'm going to screw you. Not 'I want to', but 'I will'. I could normally figure out a woman in an evening. I had a three year backlog of data on poor Cameron. My Pivotal Goddess was an 'upfront' girl. Her façade was bravado backed by the fear of not measuring up; not being good enough. My mistake in High School was approaching her, hat in hand. Cameron felt best when someone took the tough choices away from her. If she didn't lead, she couldn't fail by her way of thinking. Dad had stood by me that night when he came home from work. I was a broken wreck of a teenage boy. Dad hadn't told me to toughen up and he hadn't been sympathetic. All he wanted to know was what I was going to do about it. What was 'I' going to do, as if I could be the master of my own fate. That was my Dad. The next day I started working out, eating better and taking better care of myself. He was dead; still dead yet my feelings over that had evolved. He was with my ancestors now, waiting for me and my sons and daughters. Looking at it that way, he wasn't really gone at all. "I'll see what can be done," Cameron smiled. I was going to eat her up. "Oh yeah, this plate was mistakenly delivered to my table," I indicated Pamela's illegal haul. "Could you see that it gets where it needs to go after we are gone?" Cameron shot me a sultry smile without even giving her task a casual glance. A hideous tip (kudos to Odette) was added to our over-priced bill and the ladies and I retired to our rooms. It was routine heading to our room. Mona waved us to silence. Then the 'bug hunt' began. Like every Amazon persecution of opposing 'life forms', they didn't play fair. The Amazons had placed electronic surveillance in the room before they left so when unwelcomed guests showed up while we ate and Mona 'slept' we could watch where they placed their goodies in our rooms. This was not a matter of throwing a fit and tossing the electronic devices down the garbage disposal. Oh no, not in Amazon battle lore. They found out what frequency your device was broadcasting on and backtracked it. According to Tiger Lily you can use a source point and a handheld device to triangulate the receiver. Then the fun begins. First, keep the original signal going. Put a subroutine of; oh, all kinds of credit card fraud in this case with the video file then call the appropriate law enforcement agency to bust the place. The subroutine would have no point of origin, so the Amazons would be safe. The spying agency would have a headache on their hands. Credit card fraud would require them to confiscate all the equipment because the threat posed was real, even if the tip was now suspect. This was the Amazon equivalent of fixating the enemy at one point; surveillance; while making their real move on another; the funeral. The average Amazon funeral was a private affair. My Security Detail was modifying plans for an Amazon dignitary's attendance of another Society member's funerary rites. Halfway through the deception plan, Special Agents Brock and John showed up at our door. With two law firms (Pratt's and Nicole's) dancing on their foreheads, they were being polite today and inviting me down to be questioned. I asked for Detective Lisa and Investigator Horace to be there. One: I didn't dictate who investigated me. Two: they were under Internal Affairs review. I agreed with 'one'; I would say 'nothing' to any number of highly qualified law enforcement operatives. I might give answers to the two I had mentioned. 'Two' was none of my affair. They could hope for some answers when they chose the review would be over. I was more than happy spending a lifetime not talking to them. Legalize was tossed around to the point Nicole yawned, pointed out none of them were attorney's with the United States District Court of the Northern District of Illinois; damn, that's some letterhead, and they could make no deals, grant no immunities, on their own. There was no talking to be done except for the ass-reaming the Court of Appeals was going to give both the Federal attorney who applied for the surveillance warrant and the judge who signed it. Low and behold, phones began ringing. As a patrol unit was making a raid on a room three floors down, a series of shots rang out. A gun battle ensued between the three armed men in the room, the two patrolmen (women actually) and the entire misfortunate event was caught on NBC Channel Five news. Occasionally I forget I work for fundamentally viciously sick fucks. My 'team' had sent the cops and the news crew to the spot and even supplied the ignorant housekeeper with the room card-key for the cops to break in with; a hotel room is not a private dwelling. Cops break in, do their 'freeze, we are the police' thing, but before the three feds in the room could reply, 'their' computer audio equipment let off a sound of bullets firing and ricochets echoing across the room. Nature took its course after that. The feds drew and both sides began shooting. No one died, but one ATF guy was going off to surgery. They would have all earned Purple Hearts if they had been in the military and a commendation no matter what; had two law enforcement agencies not shot each other up. The chase was on for the news crew who was desperately trying to get their station to show the footage before the feds grabbed the memory cards. Despite having had no part in that fiasco, Nicole immediately clued in that the moment our two feds ran off to help their comrades it was our time to leave. Did we go to the vehicles we came in? No. That would have exhibited a lack of paranoia my guardians would have found appalling. Two new car waited a block away. Had I been better at this game, I would have noticed the lack of functioning traffic cameras around us. Instead, I went begging to the local diocese of the Catholic Church. I plead my case. Mom and Dad were devout, raised me to be a devout Catholic yet when my Mother died, my father had never gotten over the trauma and me, being a young man, hadn't explored my spirituality yet; but I promised I'd get right on it when I returned to New York. The priest who handled the end of life stuff for the Church was sympathetic. He gave me the name of a local priest near my home I could talk to on my return. He also told me that he'd received a moving letter from a nun in Uganda about a deeply spiritual moment she had shared with me years ago, so he was onboard with giving my Dad a Catholic send-off. I wasn't sure if that was a sign to never touch a wannabe Nun again, or a reminder that nun's gave incredibly positive feedback on their sexual misadventures. I went with the latter. A few more calls, the choosing of the proper crematorium and I was through with the first part of that ordeal. Next came the funeral notification and invites. The Union would send some of Dad's closest co-workers and several neighbors said they'd show up as well. Flowers, clothes, wake; well, it couldn't be in my family home. The forensic team was gone and it was free for me to wander through, but the bullet holes and blood might put a damper on the ambience. In the midst of my worries, I got a call. A polite man named Winchell Sokolowsky offered me the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion for my personal use. If there is any doubt, Chicago is Not the city of good Samaritans, the overly polite, or even the casually kind. Chicagoans pride themselves on being tough. We have plenty of good people who help out, volunteer and try to make life easier for their fellow man. That does not encompass giving a random stranger use of a multi-million dollar mansion. If I hadn't already been living in fantasy land, I'd have been busy figuring out which one of my few male friends was pulling this prank of on me, but no. "Can I inquire about the source of this largesse, Mr. Sokolowsky? Take in mind the incredible likelihood of a government agency most foul listening in," I cautioned him. "A family friend," he responded with an amused snort. Yeah, cause my Father's funeral was all chuckles for me. Since crab-women weren't likely to know owners of mansions, this had to be my aunts. Woot. "Thank you sir. My security people will be over to sweep the place before the city, state, or federal governments can crank out another search warrant. Thank you again." "That is not unexpected," Sokolowsky replied. "Until then." Rachel looked at me as if I'd done something absurd. She may have been right. "Did you just accept shelter from an individual we do not know; except that he is certainly part of the Protocols?" she stared at me. "Come on now," I chastised her. "It's for a funerary wake. I'm not taking three hundred of the lads out for a stroll, chasing savages up the Little Big Horn, or an Irishman deciding that Oliver Cromwell is a man of his word." I leaned in and winked to Rachel. "Besides Charlie; I got an angle." Pamela, who just happened to be walking by, gave me another high-five. Rachel was really learning to hate/dread those moments of synergy between Pamela and I. "I am not allowed to kill you and I am afraid I can't kill Pamela, but please don't think I don't want to do both," Rachel ratcheted up her displeasure. "Torn into itsy-bitsy pieces;” Pamela started. "And buried alive!" I finished. Another high-five. "You two are both insane," Rachel despaired. "That's the spirit," Pamela and my comeback to Rachel was in synch once again. To prove I wasn't heartless, I hugged Rachel. She froze, arms at her side, caught between warring impulses. I maneuvered her arms around until her hands rested on the back of my hips then rested mine on the small of her back. "Rachel, I cannot go back to a safe, faceless existence," I whispered as I planted tender kisses on her forehead. "To do so would be a betrayal of; me; Ishara." Rachel let go of her emotions and rested her head against my shoulder. "Why couldn't I be tasked to do something sane; like fight drug cartels, Maoist insurgence, or corporate hit squads in the Amazon?" she sighed. I moved my hands to her ass and gave them a nice fondle making sure to slowly grind her waist against my hips. Humping her would have been a mistake. That was sexual. I was giving her a bit of physical appreciation and nothing more. Rachel tilted her head up, I brought mine down until we were nose to nose. "Promise me you will try to stay alive, Cáel," she sounded almost mournful. "I will make a deal with you," I stated. "If I make it back to New York alive, you will consent to have sex with me." Rachel was confused, suspicious yet aroused. "None of this 'one hour' in some dormitory, or nunnery cell. I want everything; a light meal, some quality touching time and a minimum of two rounds of orgasmic sex." "Ah; not a scratch," Rachel counter-offered. I nodded, kissed her nose and she felt as if she'd won something. Rachel got ready to take us to our next stop. Pamela slipped past me. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," she whispered. I had never used that term out loud before. "That's what I would say," she clarified. She was my evil psychic twin grandmother. It was through a tireless group effort that I made it back to the Hotel Burnham at 4 p.m. Cameron made a show of being busy when I first came back. I was willing to be patient. While she puttered around, I flirted with the desk clerk and one of the baggage attendants; pale skin, blonde hair with freckles and light brown skin, black hair in a Nubian weave. This was the 'professional' lure. By presenting myself as a 'Man's Man' and garnering female adoration, I was clearly not (yet) that into her. The pressure was on her and Cameron didn't like pressure because pressure equated to the possibility of failure. Her advantages which were obvious to every other observer were not certainties to her. Contest time. "Director Cáel Nyilas," Cameron interrupted my joke to the two ladies, "I'm finished up for the day." I gave a quick smile to the women I was about to leave then turned on my personal demon. "Should I wait in the lounge until you change?" "No," I waved off her objections. "You can come up to my suite and then we can go to your domicile for you to change for a night out." Quick visual clue update: she lived at home with her parents yet dated enough that it wouldn't be awkward. It also showed me that she was uncomfortable about going to my room. She wasn't so enchanted she would do something stupid. I had the answer to that. I had made it a public declaration. Not only did my hovering troop had the news, so did her front desk. Nothing bad could happen to her if everyone knew where she was; right? On the elevator ride up it was just me, Cameron, Pamela and Esmeralda. The rest travelled on ahead. She took one rear corner so I took the other. I then let my leather-soled shoes slide down the carpet, lowering my overall height compared to Cameron. At some point, I began back-spinning my feet, pretending to be on the edge of falling on my ass. I smiled at Cameron and her eyes sparkled at the vaudevillian gesture. Know your prey and I knew way more about Cameron than was healthy for any girl. For instance, she loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton; more of a Keaton girl. She giggled then came to my rescue. She was wrapping me up in her arms while mine stayed safely away. "You are a bit of a joker," she teased me. "Your beautiful smile makes all that effort worthwhile," I truthfully pledged to Cameron. She sighed so contentedly. Behind her back, Pamela was loading a two-barreled hunting device, aiming at some surface-based, above ground structure with an open top and gave it both barrels while avoiding the imaginary back-splash. 'Looks like herring for dinner,' she mouthed with a wicked grin. Esmeralda was soaking it in. Hadn't I pounced on Rachel a few hours earlier? I was definitely hooking Cameron and reeling her in for some sexual deviant purpose; and Pamela was mocking the whole situation. E turned and faced the doors. "You seem like a really nice guy," Cameron murmured. "I mean that in a good way." "I can't see you as any way, but truthful and kind," I met her cherished countenance. "I imagine even harsh lessons are difficult for you to deliver." There; she had one last chance to figure out the poor schlub she'd crushed at the start of our senior year was me. "Being a leader can be very tough," she moped as she pressed into me. My mumbled offerings of affection and her savage reprisal had never registered with her. I was going to eat her alive. "How about I take care of you tonight?" I requested. She hesitated, not out of fear, but confusion. "Completely relax and I'll make the decisions for this one night. Your mind will be free to enjoy and discard at your pleasure." On most levels, Cameron was seeing this as a date. She was a 'dating' girl. She didn't give up the goodies until date three, if I was exceptionally good; date four, or five otherwise. I was about to dispose of that with a clever case of role reversal. My two staffers vanished as I entered my lakeside executive suite. A splendid view I thought I'd never be able to afford the last day; The 28th of December. I had enough money for a flight and a date picking me up at the airport. Bolingbrook had an inordinate amount of students stay the holidays and, by tradition, the graduating class hosted a New Year's Eve party for those students and the staff. I had told Dad about Havenstone and my infinitesimal chances of that kind of job. That was it. He patted me on the shoulder. There was no pressure to come back to Burnham after graduation if I didn't have a job lined up. It was my home if I needed it. So much was unspoken between us. I could tell he was proud; college; good grades; popular; happy. I shouldn't have taken for granted we'd get a chance to talk later. Back to the joy at hand. "So, what's it like working with your Dad?" I dropped into our causal conversation. I was in the bedroom, door open; really? Why do they put doors on those things? The 'Daddy' question could be taken two ways and I trusted Cameron to take it the worse way; and to be pissed. "My Father didn't get me the job here!" Cameron stormed in and insisted with a nice spirited mare stomp of the foot as emphasis. I 'just happened' to be naked, half turned away and a nice, highly suggestive pair of men's underwear in my hands. "What do you mean?" I was clearly confused. I turned a bit more toward her. Now she could almost see everything. "You; you have scars all over your body," she moaned. "I am a warrior, Cameron. This is the kind of man I am," I gave her a fierce, dominating gaze. "I fight for what I want and I brutally defend that which is mine. Who did you think I was?" Had Cameron been a fighter, that would have been the point she left the room. She was all up-front, bravado and a superior façade over an insecure, parentally driven trophy for their mantel place. My anger faded. It wasn't her fault I couldn't read her signs four years ago. I was still going to fuck her to the afterlife and back, but this time I'd be doing it as an informative journey. "I don't know anymore," Cameron tried to rally some sort of coherent rampart. "Come here," I beckoned her with one hand (the one without the underwear). Cameron shook her head. "Cameron, please believe me, there are things my staff would let me get away with; rape is not one of them. I won't touch you anywhere unless you give me permission." If you are a girl in the room at this point, you are toast. I just made it safe to touch my naked body. Sure, you have clothes on; for now, but not for long. Why? Women desire sex about as much as men do. Unless you are a vapid fashion model with substance abuse issues, men with non-disfiguring scars are an aphrodisiac. Add to that a hard-forged physique and men, sex is there for the taking. "I; uh;” she kept taking baby-steps forward. "I; Pam; Pamela is it?" "Yo," Pamela answered in a bored manner, knife in hand, then, "Whoa now!" she pointed her knife at my equipment. "Sheath that, young man. Put it under wraps right now." "I'm grown man, Pamela," I griped. I also put on my underwear. "Pluck the freaking pebble out of my hand, bitch, and then I'll call you an adult," Pamela sneered. Looking to Cameron, "Anything else Miss?" "No, thank you; no, wait. What do you do for Mr. Nyilas?" Cameron asked. "I'm his psychic medium," was Pamela's sage reply. That supernatural bogusness made Cameron happy. It shouldn't have. "Yeah, I kill his enemies then interrogate their souls," Pamela added with a nod. "It is highly rewarding work." Cameron's mouth gaped. "How about I shut the door and give you two kids some privacy." "What does she really do?" Cameron whispered to me. Part of me wanted to say 'she told you'. "She's my masseuse," I lied. I started putting my pants on (forgetting my socks) then fell/sat on the bed. Cameron came to my bedside. I rolled on my back and highly exaggerated the effort it took to pull them up. Cameron began giggling. "Hey, these are my 'skinny' slacks. I wouldn't laugh at you if our positions were switched." "Really?" she teased me. I laughed and she laughed along. "Cameron, think about it. I'm shirtless and definitely bra-less. I'm pretty sure I'd be too distracted by a multitude of your other assets to snicker," I countered. Cameron blushed and smiled. Ah, the visual image in Cameron's head was her, with jeans, racy panties and nothing else on while I hovered over her, relishing her attempts to conceal her charms. I shuffled back on the bed and resumed pulling my slacks up. Cameron followed, right into the danger zone. "Wait;” she put a hand on my abdomen. "What caused that scar?" So I told her. Okay, I gave her an abridged version of the truth. Fine, I lied like a big dog. I had the amazing habit of stumbling across women in need of saving. I bled for their virtue and honor, racked with intense pain before a violent victory was seized by my masculine hands. I was sure that Pamela and Rachel were hiding just outside the door, retching into waste baskets over the layers upon layers of my tripe. Around wound twelve, I was sure if I had asked Cameron to wear little lamb ears and a bell around her neck, she would have; had one been handy. To be fair, I wasn't fighting off legions of Green Beret. I was doing one better. I was using thinly-veiled caricatures of her High School enemies and nemeses. I was revealing their wickedness and pummeling them for their evil ways. There is a precious look a woman has when she miraculously discovers she is going to have the intercourse she's wanted yet somehow not recognized that need for until that moment. Cameron had that look, straddling me, skirt hiked up to her waist and vulva riding my cock (two layers intervening). We were out of wounds. "The rest are covered up," I explained in a predatory voice. Yes, Cameron was going to have sex and she had no control of events whatsoever and I hadn't even laid a hand on her yet. "Where?" she was suddenly baffled. "Pants," I kept it short and to the point. Cameron looked over her shoulder She reluctantly started to dismount so she could get to them so I made my move. I grabbed her hips in mid-dismount and rotated her around to reverse-cowgirl. Cameron began tugging off my pants with my legs raised high. My stomach crunches kicked in and I leveraged my torso up as well. I deftly moved her skirt up and went straight to the ass massage. Cameron's head shot around, eyes fearful. I had broken my word to not touch her without permission. Yes, I had lied to a girl; Now, I kissed her right on the lips, expertly delivered a delving French kiss and moved one hand to her right breast for an aggressive fondle. Cameron was really getting into it. Her nipples were highly sensitive. Her ass was humping like an over-eager sorority girl pole-dancing on Amateur Night. On cue, Cameron broke free and flew off the bed. "What; you; I thought we were going out?" she whined. She was horny as hell and didn't want to be held accountable at it. "Why are you running away?" I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind; that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know. Remember guys, it cuts both ways. Don't think so? You've had a girlfriend three whole months to the point she's staying over a night or two a week. One night, after your (hopefully) second round, you both discover it is that time of the month. 'Babe (or whatever pet name she has saddled you with), can you run to the store and get me some tampons and pads?' That, by the way, was not a question. She, for hygiene reasons, can't put her clothes on and go out herself. So, you go out to the Quick-Mart at 2 a.m. praying to God that none of your buddies are on a late night beer run and see you with your; stuff. You are not doing this for sex. She's not feeling 100% at the moment. Why are you? Guilt. She was at your place, making your Baloney Pony happy and this happened. You could send her out to the store. Not only is she not the only woman out there, many women understand guys getting freaked out about menstrual products. No, you feel guilty and risk the ridicule of your peers because it is your fault and you are not a dick-wad. And why did she ask you to do something that has nothing to do with you? Women are equally aware that guilt works, Baby. Back to our tale; "I'm not running away," sounded empty coming out of her mouth. "You said; touching." "I think you gave that option up when you crawled on top of me," I leered. "I clearly want to be with you, Cameron. You have given every indication you want to be with me, so I ask you again, why are you suddenly running away?" I kept after her. "I don't want to have sex; right now," again, she sounded weak. "Whatever happens, I go back to New York in two days," I met her shaky gaze. "You can set a time table if you like. The actuality of my life is relentless. I have things to get back to. If you are going to go, then go. I'll head out alone tonight, get a few drinks, come back early and grab some shut-eye," I shrugged. I went searching for my pants. See, she wasn't some random fuck. I wasn't leaving to replace her; making her a failure. I was hemming her in. I had the timeline. I had made my desires clear. There was no negotiation so while she appeared to have choices, she didn't and she knew it. For a girl who had spent so much effort working hard to not disappoint the main masculine figure in her life there was only one thing to do. "I don't want you to think I ever do anything like this," she propped up her morals while stutter-stepping back to the bed. "I feel I have a connection with you." Ah; the 'I have a connection with you' excuse. It would have been so appropriate if she actually remembered me. I pulled her onto the bed, went through the obligatory trying to push me off then we were back to the kissing and humping. Cameron turned out to be a 'use me' girl. That does Not mean abuse, it means she gets off being a responder to her partner's sexual directions. Caress her cheek, jaw and throat and she'd cup my chin, or massage my chest. Cameron was smart and a quick-learner. Her problem was a lack of a sense of adventure and an aversion to taking the lead. With the phantom applause of a hundred other male 'losers' who went to Fractional North High School, I ‘did' the queen who had been beyond us all only four years ago. The erotic twist to all that was with every sense of triumph and pleasure, Cameron mimicked me. Certainly we were both having a memorable time. I had to touch, lick, knead, and fondle every inch of Cameron's body. We both explored our nipple fetish, sixty-nined and engaged in some anal play; no penetration. I completed my first sojourn with the removal of the condom and the blowjob that had been the fantasy of countless hours in my home's upstairs bathroom. Cameron didn't just swallow; she savored and looked like she wanted more. Normally I cuddle beside my partner post-coitus. With Cameron, I lay on top of her at eye level. I put enough weight on her to let her feel pinned without real discomfort. "I have a confession," I gave her a sweaty-faced grin. "What?" she asked then gave me a peck on the lips. "We went to school together; same grade and everything," I enlightened her. "We even talked once." Cameron didn't know what to make of that. "I'll put that in perspective though. Do you believe that if you do something you do your best? Do you believe in craftsmanship?" "Cáel, you are scaring me," Cameron frowned. "Fifteen seconds and you can go," I conveyed with as much calm as I could. "Answer my question." "Okay; yes, I believe in doing your best. I believe in craftsmanship," Cameron played along. "Your words; 'never in a million years'." I related and waited. First there was the uncertainty and fear of the odd course our relationship had taken. It took a few seconds because so few pieces of the puzzle fit. "Cáel Nyilas; it was you; start of senior year; I had been," she muttered. Then came the real fear. "You must hate me." "I thought about it," I said, "but that isn't really me. See, you helped create me. Truth be told, you were only the catalyst. I did all the work." "A great many women helped. They were never a replacement for you. I was taught better than that by my first lover," I continued. "Still, I would be totally different if you hadn't casually annihilated my self-worth that September day." Pause. "Do you like the results?" "You really don't hate me;” Cameron was coming around. "It was high school. We all screw up in high school. According to a few studies, if you don't make a mess of high school, you are destined for failure," I related some real information. "You are getting hard again," Cameron gasped back to being okay with things between us. "Perhaps I should have warned you," I grinned wickedly. "I'm a sex addict." "Hey, Sex Addict!" Pamela shouted into the room. "There are some people out here to see you." "Good people, or bad people?" I shouted back. "Worse," Pamela replied. "The kind of people that want something from you." That was vaguely unpromising. "Cameron, take a shower and we'll talk about dinner when you get out. I think I need to take care of this," I sighed. Off went Cameron to the shower and on went my robe. In the main room, with a variety of levels of sexual tension, were sixteen women I didn't know. The Hotel Burnham has very nice suites, but they are not ballrooms. The room was pretty crowded, with not enough chairs and wall space getting sparse. They were all Havenstone women and I was willing to bet the average age was thirty-five; not my normal crowd. At least I knew why they were all there. Pamela suspected. Rachel and her team were clueless. "Hi, I am known as Cáel Nyilas," I greeted them. "A short history lesson and things will make a great deal more sense, so please be patient." The crowd was not pleased. I was a male and to a woman, the ladies had repudiated the world of men. They were all 'Runners'. It was the presence of Rachel's group that was keeping them civil at this point. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, as the Second Betrayal was ending, there was a small group of males who had proven themselves to the Amazon Host, taken into houses and their names were written on the Amazon Rolls," I started off. "Two of those males and three male children of one of the houses survived the massacre the female Amazons inflicted on their kin." That bought me a moment. Slaughtering your own babies, even male babies, wasn't something they would shrug off. "Well, if you know your Amazon politics, you know that the children of an Amazon who dies while in service of the Host becomes a member of the Host; so on and so on." The implications were sinking in as was the nervousness. "One of those men was a young warrior named Vranus of House Ishara. I am the sole surviving heir of Vranus. We are also here for the burial of my Father, who was murdered Sunday night. The next bit of Amazon politics. House Ishara was an extinct First House," I continued. "Oh shit," was uttered from half-dozen lips as they moved to the next, obvious step. "The succession to the Head of House for any House is elevation by your peers, accepted ritual combat and; the oldest surviving member of the House," I added. "By the Seven Martial Goddess; don't you have to be female? I mean; We are Amazons!" one of the 'Runners' yelled in disbelief. "Do you plan to add more males to your House?" one of the senior members growled. "Two things; it should not bother you one way, or another, and it is not MY House. It is the House of my Ancestor, Ishara. If this is going to be a problem, you are in the wrong room," I met her hostile glare ember for ember. That one headed for the door. "Wait," a fellow 'Runner' grabbed her arm. "You can't be going along with this Marsha?" the departing Amazon snapped. "I don't know this one, but I trust Buffy," Marsha countered. "Ok ladies, so that we are clear," Pamela sighed. "The next one of you to insult the Head of House Ishara, I am going to drag into the other room, kill you and cut you up into giblets for room service to take away," Pamela sounded positively disinterested. "I am not afraid of you," the departing one glared. "That would be a serious mistake," Rachel interjected quietly. Deep breath from me. "Listen, this is a highly improbable incident. I am not asking anyone to embrace the society you have rejected. In fact, I admire you for the strength it took to transition. I also ask you to accept the fact that I DO NOT want to be here, doing this, with any of you," I made one last effort. "Quite frankly, you man-haters scare me; being a man and all. You seem to think I have a choice in any of this. I don't. I am the heir of Vranus. I am the last known living descendant of the Amazon who chose the name Ishara for the sake of her house's unity," I stated. "I don't want to do this, but I'm not the kind of human being who runs away from my responsibilities." "Okay; Cáel of Ishara, why are we here?" Marsha said as she kept the other one from leaving. "Sixty years ago, the Amazon Houses swore an oath to the women who joined their cause. They lied to you. They have not kept up their side of the bargain. They have refused virtually all of you entry into the status as true, full-blooded Amazons," I explained. "And now you are going to rectify that; injustice?" the senior one kept mocking me. "Fine; you and me; one last chance," I sighed. "Look around you. Who do you see? The prettiest, the most pliable, the most power-hungry? If you can point out one woman in this room that doesn't deserve to be a Full-Blooded Amazon, leave now." "You didn't choose any of us," she responded. "Exactly!" I shouted. "I didn't choose any of you to be in House Ishara. Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara did. Why? Because I don't know any of you, or your sacrifices and worth to Havenstone. I gave that duty to the two; and only two; member of House Ishara who would know who was the most worthy to be in a First House." "We are here to be inducted," one of the silent Amazons voiced with a dream-like quality. "Yes. Barring being rejected by Ishara, you will be inducted at my Father's graveside tomorrow morning," I stated clearly. "How many?" Senior questioned. "This time; twenty," I answered. "I have no agenda and no set number of 'Runners' to be inducted into House Ishara. It doesn't work

Clearly, vinyl records play a significant role in Jay and Deon's lives. But how did this all start? Well, episode 40 examines their origin stories. Ten classic artists who helped shape the Lickers' sonic identities are discussed and another crackin' mixtape is curated, created, and (hopefully) cranked. God gave rock and roll to us, Goddamn it. Put it in your soul already. Sonic contributors to the fortieth episode of Lightnin' Licks Radio podcast includes (in order of appearance): Brothers Johnson, Holland-Dozier-Holland, Derrick Harriott, Townes Van Zandt, James Todd Smith, Boy Meets Girl, Berlin, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, The Treacherous Three, T La Rock, Rick Rubin, Beastie Boys , NPR's A. Martinez - Kye Ryssdal - Leilah Fadel, Dolly Parton, Whitney Houston, Dr. Pascal Wallisch, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Queen, Elvis, Tommy Durden, Wings, James Horner & Will Jennings, Celine Dion, Right Said Fred, Greta Van Fleet, Dave Brubeck, Mac Demarco, Moose Charlap & Jule Styne, Jerry Goldsmith, M.M. Knapps, library “space” music and read-along storybook dialogue, Arc of All, Jim Kirk, Casey Kasem, Van Halen, Dion DiMucci, Leif Garrett, Jeff Barry & Ellie Greenwich, Shawn Cassidy, Gregg Diamond, Andrea True Connection, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Bernie Taupin, Norman Whitfield & Barrett Strong, The Undisputed Truth, Perry-Perkins-Johnson, Honey Cone, TV adverts from Firestone Tires and Post cereal's Pink Panther Flakes, The Jackson Five, the Motown Players & the Funk Brothers, Michael Jackson, Cameron Crowe & Nancy Wilson, Still Water, Temple of the Dog, Sweet Water, The Dust Brothers, Afrika Bambaataa, Dudley Taft (brandishing his axe and ripping a bong), Black Sabbath, Dancefloor Destruction Crew, The Wrecking Crew, The Partridge Family, Wally Gold, Idris Muhammad, Led Zeppelin, Beastie Boys (again), Alice Cooper (band), Digable Planets with Wah Wah Watson, Michael Franti and Spearhead, Jimmy Buffett, Disposable Heroes of Hypocrisy, Three Dog Night, Hoyt Axton, Randy Newman, Paul Williams, Russ Ballard, America, Rainbow, Cheap Trick, Freda, Argent, Wilson Pickett, Wu-Tang's RZA, Pinback, Three Mile Pilot, Lou Reed, Goblin Cock, Fruer, Black Sabbath (again), Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Jethro fucking Tull, the Source of Light and Power, DJT, Eric B., Soul Coughing, The Clockers. Love at First Listen mixtape [SIDE 1] (1) Sweet Water – King of '79 (2) Michael Jackson – Got to be There (3) Spearhead – Positive (4) The Partridge Family – Lay it on the Line (5) Pinback – Loro [SIDE 2] (1) Alice Cooper – You Drive Me Nervous (2) Elton John – I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues (3) Jethro Tull – Two Fingers (4) Beastie Boys – Live at P.J.'s (5) Three Dog Night - Liar Thanks for Listening. Autumn has fallen. Do your best to not jump into a ravine. Please shop for your music locally. We suggest Electric Kitsch. Drink Blue Chair Bay flavored rums. Feeling like jumping into a ravine? There's help available.

 A revenge fantasy with a twist.Based on the work of Djmac1031. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Apologies to anyone actually named Karen. We feel your pain. But life isn't always fair, is it?"Are you the manager?" The Karen yelled in his face.Mack sighed wearily. It had already been a rough shift, and when he got the page from Jill, who was working the Department store's Customer Service desk, he just knew his day wasn't about to get boring."Yes, now if you could please, calm down and tell me what the problem is here," he answered evenly. "The Problem?" The Karen screeched, "The problem is I've been standing here for 30 minutes.” It wasn't that long, Mack knew, trying to convince this silly cow." She gestured wildly at Jill, "to give me a simple cash refund on these items I purchased just yesterday that I'd like to return!" Jill was a newly hired clerk, working part time while attending the local college. This was Jill's second week at the store, and her first encounter with a ‘Karen'.Mack already knew the details of this ignorant woman's request, but he picked up and inspected the garments anyway, knowing he'd find no price tags on them. He also knew the screaming harpy had produced no receipt.Mack took charge and observed Jill's frazzled expression. “Jill, I'll make sure our customer's issues are resolved.”"Ma'am," Mack began, calmly yet firmly, "our store policy is very clear. No cash refunds on items without a receipt. Now we will gladly give you store credit, good for,”The Karen cut him off sharply, "Store credit? What makes you think I want store credit? I'll never shop here again after the way I've been treated today, I promise you that!"He was trying to formulate a response that didn't involve the words "go fuck yourself," when he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder. It was his security officer, Phil. "Excuse me ma'am," Mack said as he turned aside to allow Phil to speak softly and unheard by The Karen.The Karen let out a loud harrumph, then turned her wrath back over to Jill, spouting ridiculous threats about having her fired and other nonsense that Mack blocked out as he focused on what Phil was quietly relaying to him. Mack's eyes went wide, and a broad smile slowly crept over his weary face."Ma'am," Mack interrupted the woman who was still ranting at poor Jill, "if you could please come with me, I'm sure we can find a reasonable solution that will make you happy, I promise. Jill, take a 10 minute break."The Karen looked skeptical, but followed Mack and Phil to the security office not far from the customer service desk.When all were in the office, Mack closed the door, then ushered The Karen to take a seat in front of the desk. Behind the desk was a wall of security monitors.Phil walked quietly behind the desk, tapped some keys at his computer, found what he was looking for, then spun the screen around so that both Mack and The Karen could see it.The Karen's eyes went wide. There, captured in high definition color, a video started playing; a video that featured her as the lead role. On the screen, The Karen was collecting various clothing items off the rack, then, after looking around, was clearly seen cutting the tags off with a small pair of scissors she'd produced from her purse. Mack nodded to Phil, who paused the video. "Well, I think we've seen enough, don't you?" Mack addressed her with a grim smile. He then gave a quick nod to Phil, who stood up and left the room without a word. Mack took Phil's seat behind the desk and turned his attention back to her.The Karen sat there, deflated. All the bluster and anger had drained from her, and she now looked fearful. "Listen, please, you can't,” she started.Mack cut her off. "Can't what? Call the police, have you arrested? I most certainly can, and will." With that he reached for the phone."Please!" she begged, imploring him. "I can't get arrested! My husband, he's, he's running for office, City Council. If this gets out it would destroy his campaign!""You should have thought of that before you came into my store with such an idiotic plan." His hand moved again towards the phone."Wait, please! There must be something we can do? I'll do, I'll do anything," she pleaded.Mack sat back, a sly grin on his face."You could suck my dick," he said bluntly.The Karen stood up, a mix of shock, terror and anger on her face. "I'll do no such thing!" she bellowed. "You fucking pig! I'm leaving, right now, you can't stop,”Mack cut her off sharply, angrily, "Sit down."Surprisingly, she did as she was told.Mack composed himself, then continued.  "Yes, you could walk out of here, right now. I wouldn't lay one finger on you to stop you. My security cameras will film you, all the way out the door and across the parking lot. They'll pick up the make, model and color of your car, probably the license plate as well. The police will show up at your home shortly after you arrive there, and you can put on a nice little show for your neighbors. I'm sure your husband would love that."Her eyes were welling up with tears. Mack didn't care. He continued, "I'm sure you'll try and tell someone about what I just said. A lawyer might even believe you. But I also know there's cell phone footage of you ranting like a lunatic at my poor clerk, and that along with my security footage is gonna shoot huge holes in your credibility, I'd think.""Or," he continued, "you cannot utter another goddamn word, get over here, get on your knees, suck my fucking dick, then leave and never come back to my store again. Your choice. I'll give you 30 seconds," he finished. Mack rested his hand once more on the phone for emphasis. Mack studied her face and saw the various emotions that crossed it in those ticking seconds. Fear, followed by stubbornness, then back to fear. Next came a slow dawning realization of helplessness. Then finally, understanding and grim acceptance.She stood up, steeled herself, and walked around behind the desk. Mack pushed his chair back and she quietly kneeled, looking up at him with a glare of hatred and anger.When she didn't move, Mack stood up. Unbuckling his belt, he loosened his pants, unzipped, and yanked them down along with his boxers in one swift tug.His cock hung low, long even in its flaccid state. She gasped, flushed, then glared at it."Well," he said with a dark smile. "What are you waiting for? It's not gonna suck itself."The Karen glared up at him again, and he saw a steely glint in her eye that made him think she might refuse to do it after all.Then her hand was on his cock, lifting its weight roughly, stroking it to try and get him hard.She wasn't an unattractive woman. She had a pretty face when it wasn't twisted in anger, and a nice fucking rack. Mack was enjoying the freckled cleavage her blouse revealed from this angle. His cock slowly began to stir."Oh, before I forget," Mack said suddenly, as her hand gripped him almost too tightly, "a couple of things. First, say hi to that camera, just up there." He pointed over his shoulder and upwards. "It's at a pretty good angle, should capture your face and my cock both pretty well.""You bastard," she growled. Mack continued, not missing a beat. "It's separate from the store security, and uploads to the cloud using an app on my phone. No sound I'm afraid, just the images. I'm pretty sure you'd appear to be consenting if I were forced to show it to someone in my defense," he stated, almost casually. If looks could kill, he'd have been stone dead in an instant."Second thing," he continued, "if you try to hurt me, you know; bite or something, I'd have to hurt you back. Oh I'd probably wind up in jail too, no doubt, but that won't save you from being arrested either. And what would hubby and your little community say about how it all played out, eh? Think he'd still get elected if they found out his wife was blowing random guys to get out of a shoplifting charge?"She was crying now. Sobbing, she pleaded, "Look, I'm sorry, I am, please just,” She stopped, hanging her head in shame.Now that made his dick hard.Mack took her by the chin, gently lifting her face. "Listen," he said, almost kindly. "Just relax. Close your eyes if you have to. Imagine I'm your favorite Hollywood guy or rock star or whatever, I don't care. Do a good job and this won't take long at all, and you can be on your way, ok?" His voice was soothing, caring almost.She calmed her hitching sobs, dried her eyes, and took his now swollen, erect cock back in her grip, less harshly this time. She eyed it nervously. She was now facing an almost 9 inch monster cock."I, I don't think I can take it all," she stammered. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage," Mack laughed harshly, then put his hands on the back of her head, his intention clear. Her mouth found the huge purple knob of his glans, her lips parted over then around it, sucking it in. She tried to pause there but Mack's hands continued to apply pressure behind her head, while at the same time pushing his massive member deeper and deeper in her mouth.It hit the back of her throat and she gagged. Mack didn't let up, just held it there. A loud moan escaped his lips."Oh, yeah, that's it. See, I knew you could do it. Good job," he commended her snidely. She managed to pull back, his cock flopping from her mouth with a wet plop. Saliva drooled from her lips and she spat angrily. "Look, I know how to suck a dick. You want it like that? I can give you that. Just don't push my fucking head, you asshole." Her rage was palpable. Mack cocked his head a moment, as if thinking it over, then released his grip on her head and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Sure thing, princess. Show me what you got then."Her eyes furrowed at him, locked on his as she took his hot flesh back in her mouth, letting him see the pure white heat of her hate as she swallowed almost his entire shaft in one swift plunge.Mack's body jerked involuntarily, and he gasped in pleasure. "Oh damn, you go girl," he said in mocking tones.She pulled back again, spat angrily on his cock, gripped the base of it with her right hand, spat again, spread the saliva with long strokes up and down his thick vein covered shaft, then plunged her mouth over it again, stopping only when her lips met where her hand was holding its grip.Now she was simultaneously sucking and jerking him, a classic porn star move. Her head swirled and bobbed. Her tongue sliding up and down the thick hard vein that ran the length of the underside of his shaft. Each time she plunged deep, she gagged. Each time she pulled back, spit ran in huge strands from the sides of her mouth, mixing with her ruby red lipstick and running down her chin to then drip into the cleavage of her heavy, swaying breasts.Her eyes were watering. But they never broke from his gaze, nor did her anger ever fade from them.Her pace was relentless, only briefly pausing from her expert deep throat work to pull his massive cock out, spit her built up saliva at it, jerk him, flick and twirl her tongue around the head, then swallow him whole once again."Jesus fucking Christ, where the fuck did you learn to suck dick? Goddamn, I bet the boys fucking loved you back in high school," Mack said, still managing a condescending tone despite his gasps and groans. He felt her growl reverberate through his throbbing cock more than he actually heard it. Then he felt her hand reach up, grasp his balls, and squeeze.For a scary moment, Mack thought she might actually try and crush his testicles. Then her grip relaxed somewhat and she began fondling them, roughly but not without pleasure.Mack rested a hand once again on her head. This time he didn't push, merely felt the soft locks of her flowing chestnut brown hair. She had a much more natural and stylish cut than most of those other Karen's you'd see on the internet clips. On a good day it probably looked much nicer than the tangled, sweaty mess it had quickly become once she started her work in earnest.Mack broke his gaze with her fiery green eyes to look down at her breasts. Two buttons had somehow come undone from her almost violent ministrations, and he gazed with lust at the creamy, voluptuous flesh exposed, lightly freckled and now coated in puddles of lipstick stained saliva dripping down deep into her cleavage.He noticed her nipples next, protruding large, stiff and swollen under the fabric of her blouse. She was moaning loudly, sending vibrations all through his cock, and her mouth seemed almost eager in the way she gobbled him hungrily. It was at that same moment that his sensitive nose caught the unmistakable scent of pussy.Looking down he spied, to his utter shock, that her free hand was deep under her skirt, and obviously thrusting away at her cunt like a woman possessed. "You little whore, you're actually enjoying this!" Mack exclaimed."Fick eww," she tried to say, her mouth full of man meat. Her words were muffled of course, but her intent was clear enough. "If you insist," Mack said, suddenly grabbing a fistful of her hair. He pulled her up and off his cock, her teeth almost scraping him as she released it from her mouth, gasping for air like a drowning swimmer.She struggled against him but was no match for his size and strength, and within moments he had her bent over the desk with her skirt pulled up over her ass. As Mack suspected, she wore no panties.He drank in the vision greedily for only a moment. Enough to admire the full plumpness of her well rounded ass, the half-moons of pale milky flesh coming together in a cleft that framed her plump, gaping, soaking wet pussy."Oh you fucker," she gasped, still struggling, "don't you fucking dare!"Her anger quickly turned to desperation as she felt the fat tip of his massive cock start to part her slick opening."No, please, don't, I'm begging you, no, ah!" her voice raised in a scream as he penetrated her fully in one swift, hard thrust.Any protestations she may have had after that became unintelligible, her voice now simply guttural and growling.Mack fucked her hard and fast, ramming her doggie style, his balls sla

 A revenge fantasy with a twist.Based on the work of Djmac1031. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Apologies to anyone actually named Karen. We feel your pain. But life isn't always fair, is it?"Are you the manager?" The Karen yelled in his face.Mack sighed wearily. It had already been a rough shift, and when he got the page from Jill, who was working the Department store's Customer Service desk, he just knew his day wasn't about to get boring."Yes, now if you could please, calm down and tell me what the problem is here," he answered evenly. "The Problem?" The Karen screeched, "The problem is I've been standing here for 30 minutes.” It wasn't that long, Mack knew, trying to convince this silly cow." She gestured wildly at Jill, "to give me a simple cash refund on these items I purchased just yesterday that I'd like to return!" Jill was a newly hired clerk, working part time while attending the local college. This was Jill's second week at the store, and her first encounter with a ‘Karen'.Mack already knew the details of this ignorant woman's request, but he picked up and inspected the garments anyway, knowing he'd find no price tags on them. He also knew the screaming harpy had produced no receipt.Mack took charge and observed Jill's frazzled expression. “Jill, I'll make sure our customer's issues are resolved.”"Ma'am," Mack began, calmly yet firmly, "our store policy is very clear. No cash refunds on items without a receipt. Now we will gladly give you store credit, good for,”The Karen cut him off sharply, "Store credit? What makes you think I want store credit? I'll never shop here again after the way I've been treated today, I promise you that!"He was trying to formulate a response that didn't involve the words "go fuck yourself," when he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder. It was his security officer, Phil. "Excuse me ma'am," Mack said as he turned aside to allow Phil to speak softly and unheard by The Karen.The Karen let out a loud harrumph, then turned her wrath back over to Jill, spouting ridiculous threats about having her fired and other nonsense that Mack blocked out as he focused on what Phil was quietly relaying to him. Mack's eyes went wide, and a broad smile slowly crept over his weary face."Ma'am," Mack interrupted the woman who was still ranting at poor Jill, "if you could please come with me, I'm sure we can find a reasonable solution that will make you happy, I promise. Jill, take a 10 minute break."The Karen looked skeptical, but followed Mack and Phil to the security office not far from the customer service desk.When all were in the office, Mack closed the door, then ushered The Karen to take a seat in front of the desk. Behind the desk was a wall of security monitors.Phil walked quietly behind the desk, tapped some keys at his computer, found what he was looking for, then spun the screen around so that both Mack and The Karen could see it.The Karen's eyes went wide. There, captured in high definition color, a video started playing; a video that featured her as the lead role. On the screen, The Karen was collecting various clothing items off the rack, then, after looking around, was clearly seen cutting the tags off with a small pair of scissors she'd produced from her purse. Mack nodded to Phil, who paused the video. "Well, I think we've seen enough, don't you?" Mack addressed her with a grim smile. He then gave a quick nod to Phil, who stood up and left the room without a word. Mack took Phil's seat behind the desk and turned his attention back to her.The Karen sat there, deflated. All the bluster and anger had drained from her, and she now looked fearful. "Listen, please, you can't,” she started.Mack cut her off. "Can't what? Call the police, have you arrested? I most certainly can, and will." With that he reached for the phone."Please!" she begged, imploring him. "I can't get arrested! My husband, he's, he's running for office, City Council. If this gets out it would destroy his campaign!""You should have thought of that before you came into my store with such an idiotic plan." His hand moved again towards the phone."Wait, please! There must be something we can do? I'll do, I'll do anything," she pleaded.Mack sat back, a sly grin on his face."You could suck my dick," he said bluntly.The Karen stood up, a mix of shock, terror and anger on her face. "I'll do no such thing!" she bellowed. "You fucking pig! I'm leaving, right now, you can't stop,”Mack cut her off sharply, angrily, "Sit down."Surprisingly, she did as she was told.Mack composed himself, then continued.  "Yes, you could walk out of here, right now. I wouldn't lay one finger on you to stop you. My security cameras will film you, all the way out the door and across the parking lot. They'll pick up the make, model and color of your car, probably the license plate as well. The police will show up at your home shortly after you arrive there, and you can put on a nice little show for your neighbors. I'm sure your husband would love that."Her eyes were welling up with tears. Mack didn't care. He continued, "I'm sure you'll try and tell someone about what I just said. A lawyer might even believe you. But I also know there's cell phone footage of you ranting like a lunatic at my poor clerk, and that along with my security footage is gonna shoot huge holes in your credibility, I'd think.""Or," he continued, "you cannot utter another goddamn word, get over here, get on your knees, suck my fucking dick, then leave and never come back to my store again. Your choice. I'll give you 30 seconds," he finished. Mack rested his hand once more on the phone for emphasis. Mack studied her face and saw the various emotions that crossed it in those ticking seconds. Fear, followed by stubbornness, then back to fear. Next came a slow dawning realization of helplessness. Then finally, understanding and grim acceptance.She stood up, steeled herself, and walked around behind the desk. Mack pushed his chair back and she quietly kneeled, looking up at him with a glare of hatred and anger.When she didn't move, Mack stood up. Unbuckling his belt, he loosened his pants, unzipped, and yanked them down along with his boxers in one swift tug.His cock hung low, long even in its flaccid state. She gasped, flushed, then glared at it."Well," he said with a dark smile. "What are you waiting for? It's not gonna suck itself."The Karen glared up at him again, and he saw a steely glint in her eye that made him think she might refuse to do it after all.Then her hand was on his cock, lifting its weight roughly, stroking it to try and get him hard.She wasn't an unattractive woman. She had a pretty face when it wasn't twisted in anger, and a nice fucking rack. Mack was enjoying the freckled cleavage her blouse revealed from this angle. His cock slowly began to stir."Oh, before I forget," Mack said suddenly, as her hand gripped him almost too tightly, "a couple of things. First, say hi to that camera, just up there." He pointed over his shoulder and upwards. "It's at a pretty good angle, should capture your face and my cock both pretty well.""You bastard," she growled. Mack continued, not missing a beat. "It's separate from the store security, and uploads to the cloud using an app on my phone. No sound I'm afraid, just the images. I'm pretty sure you'd appear to be consenting if I were forced to show it to someone in my defense," he stated, almost casually. If looks could kill, he'd have been stone dead in an instant."Second thing," he continued, "if you try to hurt me, you know; bite or something, I'd have to hurt you back. Oh I'd probably wind up in jail too, no doubt, but that won't save you from being arrested either. And what would hubby and your little community say about how it all played out, eh? Think he'd still get elected if they found out his wife was blowing random guys to get out of a shoplifting charge?"She was crying now. Sobbing, she pleaded, "Look, I'm sorry, I am, please just,” She stopped, hanging her head in shame.Now that made his dick hard.Mack took her by the chin, gently lifting her face. "Listen," he said, almost kindly. "Just relax. Close your eyes if you have to. Imagine I'm your favorite Hollywood guy or rock star or whatever, I don't care. Do a good job and this won't take long at all, and you can be on your way, ok?" His voice was soothing, caring almost.She calmed her hitching sobs, dried her eyes, and took his now swollen, erect cock back in her grip, less harshly this time. She eyed it nervously. She was now facing an almost 9 inch monster cock."I, I don't think I can take it all," she stammered. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage," Mack laughed harshly, then put his hands on the back of her head, his intention clear. Her mouth found the huge purple knob of his glans, her lips parted over then around it, sucking it in. She tried to pause there but Mack's hands continued to apply pressure behind her head, while at the same time pushing his massive member deeper and deeper in her mouth.It hit the back of her throat and she gagged. Mack didn't let up, just held it there. A loud moan escaped his lips."Oh, yeah, that's it. See, I knew you could do it. Good job," he commended her snidely. She managed to pull back, his cock flopping from her mouth with a wet plop. Saliva drooled from her lips and she spat angrily. "Look, I know how to suck a dick. You want it like that? I can give you that. Just don't push my fucking head, you asshole." Her rage was palpable. Mack cocked his head a moment, as if thinking it over, then released his grip on her head and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Sure thing, princess. Show me what you got then."Her eyes furrowed at him, locked on his as she took his hot flesh back in her mouth, letting him see the pure white heat of her hate as she swallowed almost his entire shaft in one swift plunge.Mack's body jerked involuntarily, and he gasped in pleasure. "Oh damn, you go girl," he said in mocking tones.She pulled back again, spat angrily on his cock, gripped the base of it with her right hand, spat again, spread the saliva with long strokes up and down his thick vein covered shaft, then plunged her mouth over it again, stopping only when her lips met where her hand was holding its grip.Now she was simultaneously sucking and jerking him, a classic porn star move. Her head swirled and bobbed. Her tongue sliding up and down the thick hard vein that ran the length of the underside of his shaft. Each time she plunged deep, she gagged. Each time she pulled back, spit ran in huge strands from the sides of her mouth, mixing with her ruby red lipstick and running down her chin to then drip into the cleavage of her heavy, swaying breasts.Her eyes were watering. But they never broke from his gaze, nor did her anger ever fade from them.Her pace was relentless, only briefly pausing from her expert deep throat work to pull his massive cock out, spit her built up saliva at it, jerk him, flick and twirl her tongue around the head, then swallow him whole once again."Jesus fucking Christ, where the fuck did you learn to suck dick? Goddamn, I bet the boys fucking loved you back in high school," Mack said, still managing a condescending tone despite his gasps and groans. He felt her growl reverberate through his throbbing cock more than he actually heard it. Then he felt her hand reach up, grasp his balls, and squeeze.For a scary moment, Mack thought she might actually try and crush his testicles. Then her grip relaxed somewhat and she began fondling them, roughly but not without pleasure.Mack rested a hand once again on her head. This time he didn't push, merely felt the soft locks of her flowing chestnut brown hair. She had a much more natural and stylish cut than most of those other Karen's you'd see on the internet clips. On a good day it probably looked much nicer than the tangled, sweaty mess it had quickly become once she started her work in earnest.Mack broke his gaze with her fiery green eyes to look down at her breasts. Two buttons had somehow come undone from her almost violent ministrations, and he gazed with lust at the creamy, voluptuous flesh exposed, lightly freckled and now coated in puddles of lipstick stained saliva dripping down deep into her cleavage.He noticed her nipples next, protruding large, stiff and swollen under the fabric of her blouse. She was moaning loudly, sending vibrations all through his cock, and her mouth seemed almost eager in the way she gobbled him hungrily. It was at that same moment that his sensitive nose caught the unmistakable scent of pussy.Looking down he spied, to his utter shock, that her free hand was deep under her skirt, and obviously thrusting away at her cunt like a woman possessed. "You little whore, you're actually enjoying this!" Mack exclaimed."Fick eww," she tried to say, her mouth full of man meat. Her words were muffled of course, but her intent was clear enough. "If you insist," Mack said, suddenly grabbing a fistful of her hair. He pulled her up and off his cock, her teeth almost scraping him as she released it from her mouth, gasping for air like a drowning swimmer.She struggled against him but was no match for his size and strength, and within moments he had her bent over the desk with her skirt pulled up over her ass. As Mack suspected, she wore no panties.He drank in the vision greedily for only a moment. Enough to admire the full plumpness of her well rounded ass, the half-moons of pale milky flesh coming together in a cleft that framed her plump, gaping, soaking wet pussy."Oh you fucker," she gasped, still struggling, "don't you fucking dare!"Her anger quickly turned to desperation as she felt the fat tip of his massive cock start to part her slick opening."No, please, don't, I'm begging you, no, ah!" her voice raised in a scream as he penetrated her fully in one swift, hard thrust.Any protestations she may have had after that became unintelligible, her voice now simply guttural and growling.Mack fucked her hard and fast, ramming her doggie style, his balls sla

"Be with your self undistracted, unphased by negative emotions, and working towards alignment!" Okay bitch, not a good week. Let's talk about aligning after this election.

Welcome to LitBits™ Goddamn Media Archive. Exhibition proposal for the The Birth of Adom, an exploration of reputation and self, gender and power by the DOMINARTIST.My last performance art piece was called ‘Dominartist'. It involved taking on the life of a Dominatrix. I wrote poems, I made art, I made film, I performed in an art gallery and a night club. I convinced everyone I was a Dominatrix. The only thing I didn't do was intrinsically be a Dominatrix, as in, sell my domination based labour for money in a sex worker and client scenario. I am writing a book about what happened, how men treated me sexually, how I offended religious people, how old friends and family members refused to speak to me and how it affected personal intimate relationships.The art piece was about shame and power and was a feminist work looking at perceptions of women and how they are affected by reputation, how reputation is a separate entity to the self, and how power and gender are linked. It has been an absolutely fascinating couple of years as I took the art of domination to another level, a level not experienced by Dominatrices themselves.I have made many friends in the sex industry, have been opened to the intricacies of human sexuality, and really embraced a wider understanding of what constitutes shame, forbidden fruits, power and gender struggle and the fetishisation of women of power.I may have offended some people in the enactment of the artwork but art is meant to offend so I'm not sorry.The book will reveal everything that happened in a diary, with photography, stills from the films, poetry, and a thesis of study from the artist's point of view.The book will be completed by end MarchThe proposal to Future's Venture is for support to publish all the work through an exhibition in the second half of year 2020.OUTPUT: EXHIBITION ASPIRATIONThe exhibition will embody the work of artist Pasha du Valentine over a three year period as she took on the identity of a Dominatrix to explore ‘reputation and self', ‘gender and power, specifically through a feminist, sexually fluid orientation. The venue will incorporate six separate spaces, not necessarily self-contained, with each section partitioned or segregated to some degree whilst allowing the viewer a 360-degree view. The six works are: 1. Film ‘The Dominartist'. The footage requires four or more large screens with audio. Headphones may be used appropriately. 2. The Augmented Reality Model of the Dominartist. The AR would be part of a static installation also and would be interactive. 3. The Poems of the Dominartist. The recitals/recordings require audio space with surround sound and white cotton sheet floor. 4. ‘Power': a 3d sculpture5. ‘Shame': an installation/sculpture 6. The Artist's Book. This exhibit is part text part image and shows each page of the book individually. 

October's top-selling comic was Absolute Batman, the first time DC has topped the sales charts since July of 2023. Marvel is not releasing a Young Avengers series, despite reports to the contrary. Oni Press announces The Goddman Tragedy.SUBSCRIBE ON RSS, APPLE, ANDROID, SPOTIFY, OR THE APP OF YOUR CHOICE. FOLLOW US ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, TIKTOK, AND FACEBOOK. SUPPORT OUR SHOWS ON PATREON.Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

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..