Podcasts about Grans

Grans fam

This week on TABLE TALK, Jeff sat down with Madeline Campbell from BroadStreetHockey.com for a fantastic discussion about the Philadelphia Flyers offseason, the upcoming NHL Draft, and prospects within the Flyers farm system. It was a fun discussion with Maddie!- What position should the Flyers and Danny Briere concentrate on with the No. 6 overall pick in the draft?- What talent and players should be looked at by the front office at No. 6 overall?- Is Helge Grans on track to move up to the big club in the future from the Lehigh Valley Phantoms?- What we should be liking about Jacob Gaucher as a prospect within the Flyers pipeline.All of this and much more this week on Table Talk!SUBSCRIBE on YouTube: youtube.com/@thephiladelphiasportstableHead over to our website for all of our podcasts and more: philadelphiasportstable.comFollow us on BlueSky:Jeff: @jeffwarren.bsky.socialErik: @brickpollitt.bsky.socialFollow us on Threads:Jeff: @mrjeffwarrenErik: @slen1023The Show: @philadelphiasportstableFollow us on Twitter/X:Jeff: @Jeffrey_WarrenErik: @BrickPollittThe Show: @PhiladelphiaPSTFollow us on Instagram:Jeff: @mrjeffwarrenErik: @slen1023The Show: @philadelphiasportstable.Follow Jeff on TikTok: @mrjeffwarrenFollow us on Facebook: facebook.com/PhiladelphiaSportsTable

This week we're joined by Tribe Chiefs, Karen Sugrue and Jude Copeland. Karen is a sociology lecturer, a psychotherapist and ‘the proudest, luckiest mammy in Ireland'. She is also co-chair of Mammies for Trans Rights, likes marching in Prides, annoying conservatives and cats! Special mention to her mother Sheila who came up with the genius Grans for Trans slogan We love you Sheila! Meanwhile Jude is an activist and a lawyer who works closely with Mammies for Trans Rights.Never forget, trans rights are human rights.Love,Veda and Robbie.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Poz Vibe Podcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ is a⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Veda⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Lady and⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Robbie Lawlor⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ production. Big thanks to ⁠our sponsors ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Dublin Pride ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠who make this series possible. We'd also like to thank The Boiler House, Man 2 Man, Gay Health Network and The George for all their help and support.Episodes are produced by Veda and Robbie with production assistance and editing by ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Esther O'Moore Donohoe⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Artwork, social media assets and⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ merch⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ all created by the fragrant Lavender The Queen.⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠

Tot plegat neix de la història d'amor d'un fill cap al seu pare i ha esdevingut un projecte d'impacte social i tecnologia avançada, es tracta d'un assistent domèstic personalitzat i implementat amb intel·ligència artificial i amb forma de lloro. La inspiració, i aquí ve la curiositat d'àmbit més local, arriba del lloro d'uns veïns de les Cases Noves que durant anys va acompanyar un ratet tots els dijous, abans i després de dinar paella, a Pablo Mariñosa, fundador del lloro Onorato i el seu pare. Un any i mig més tard Onorato està a punt de sortir al mercat com a assistent domèstic per a la gent gran amb una capacitat de personalització que el converteix en excepcional i que ha fet que grans companyies s'hagin interessat i donat suport al projecte. N'hem parlat amb Pablo Mariñosa, el fundador d'Onorato IA i creador d'aquest lloro, una mascota intel·ligent que aviat podrà acompanyar nombroses persones a casa i oferir gran capacitat de cura i atenció als familiars d'aquests. L'entrada El lloro Onorato, l’assistent personalitzat que cuida les persones grans, és sitgetà ha aparegut primer a Radio Maricel.

El 'Cinema a la Xarxa' d'aquesta setmana est

Conxita Pladevall

Celebrem que fem 1.500 balls de tarda amb balladors arribats de Nulles, Barcelona, Montserrat, Igualada, Vic,

A la segona part del programa coneixerem una mica més uns animalets que moltes vegades passen desapercebuts i, d’altres, pels seus colors, no tant. Estem parlant de les papallones. I, en concret, de les que tenim pel territori. Ens ho explicarà el tècnic del Catalan Butterfly Monitoring Scheme, que és Andreu Ubach.

L'especialista en arbres Edu Arnal defensa i reivindica les moreres com a opció d'arbre urbà, tot i que en carrers amb molta circulació i cases properes pot generar certes incomoditats és una alternativa òptima per a places com per exemple ho seria davant l'ermita de Sant Sebastià. I en època d'al·lèrgies Arnal ens proposa opcions de plantes per a tenir en jardins i que aquestes no desprenguin pol·len excessiu i per tant facilitin la convivència amb els al·lèrgics. L'entrada Món verd: Les moreres, aquelles grans desconegudes ha aparegut primer a Radio Maricel.

L'Alberto Gadel va xerrar amb en Juanjo Bona i avui ens en porta els millors moments. Amb en Pep Saula repassem la hist

En un espectacle amb l'escola Gitza sobre el 8M aquest diumenge (18h) a l'Hospitalet de Llobregat.

L'Escola Municipal de M

La pel·lícula de la cineasta índia Payal Kapadia es podrà veure aquest dijous, a les 20.30 h, al Teatre de Lloret.

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On todays show, there's messages about an inspirational grandmother, a gardener from the Surrey Downs, an obsession with the Isle of White, a song about paving slabs, some praise for the pod and a reminder of Joe's promiser to ride a rollercoaster, a true crime podcast audition, a reply from Barry Morris and a couple of littering stores from a very conscientious farmer. What better way to kick off your Friday! FOR ALL THINGS CHATABIX'Y FOLLOW/SUBSCRIBE/CONTACT: YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@chatabixpodcast Twitter: https://twitter.com/chatabix1 Insta: https://www.instagram.com/chatabixpodcast/ Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/chatabix Merch: https://chatabixshop.com/ Contact us: chatabix@yahoo.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Magazine amb gust vicentí per acompanyar el migdia de dissabte, de 12 a 14.30 h podcast recorded with enacast.com

En el butlletí d'aquesta setmana us comentem l'entrega dels informes del primer semestre d'i4 i i5, el tret de sortida dels clubs de lectura de Mitjans i Grans, la preparació de les proves de Competències Bàsiques de 6è, i la celebració a l'escola del segon Consell Escolar Municipal del curs. L'entrada Les notícies de l’Utrillo ha aparegut primer a Radio Maricel.

Són paraules del dinamitzador de la Hackató d'aquest dijous, Josep Lluís Sánchez.

En aquest butlletí de notícies agraïm a tots els assistents i col·laboradors de la Campanya de Donació de Sang, i us comentem, la celebració del Dia de la Pau i la No Violència Escolar, el taller de conta-contes de les classes de 2n "Contes del Món" i l'inici dels clubs de lectura dels cicles dels Mitjans i Grans. L'entrada Les notícies de l’Utrillo ha aparegut primer a Radio Maricel.

Especial de restaurant can

Els Teatres de Valls obren el nou any cultural amb una programació que combina com mai a grans noms de l'escena catalana amb la promoció dels projectes artístics amb segell vallenc. Aquest 2025 actuaran grans noms de la dramatúrgia catalana com Mercè Arànega, Míriam Iscla, Victòria Pagès, Joan Negrié, Laia Marull, David Selvas o Xavi […]

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No nom

Escolta 'La Gran Revolta' presentat per Àngels Fuster i Queta Giner. El capítol 5 es titula 'LGTBI: l'orgull de les persones grans'. El programa està organitzat pel Consell Comarcal del Garraf i el Consell Consultiu de la Gent Gran del Garraf. Col·labora CSL i Ràdio Cubelles. Amb el suport de la Diputació de Barcelona podcast recorded with enacast.com

Der Fall hatte weit über Hannover hinaus breiteste öffentliche Aufmerksamkeit auf sich gezogen: Der gelernte Schlosser Fritz Haarmann wurde des Mordes an über 20 jungen Männern und männlichen Minderjährigen verdächtigt, sein zeitweiliger Partner Hans Grans der mehrfachen Beihilfe. Es waren wohl die extreme Grausamkeit der Taten, die man beiden unterstellte, sowie die Indizien, dass es sich hierbei um Sexualstraftaten handelte, die diese Causa so besonders schockierend machten und das Interesse von Historikern oder Filmemachern bis heute nicht abreißen lassen. Auch schon damals berichteten die Zeitungen, etwa in Hamburg, zwei Wochen lang fortdauernd über den Prozess. Nach nur 14 Verhandlungstagen, die zwischen 4. und 19. Dezember 1924 unmittelbar aufeinander getaktet waren, stand das Urteil des Landgerichts Hannover bereits fest. Aus der Abendausgabe des Hamburgischen Correspondenten vom 19.12. verliest und kommentiert es Frank Riede.

Du Pr

Barenboim i "L'Emperador". Daniel Barenboim

Perlman i el Concert per a viol

Kleiber i la Setena. Molts s

Pollini i la sonata "Hammerklavier". Coincidint amb l'aniversari del naixement de Ludwig van Beethoven, un any m

Bon dia a tothom, bona tarda o bona nit, però agafa el cafè, el tè o la llet d'avellana del Baix Camp. Aquest és l'Infopodcast setmanal de les vil·les de la comarca del Baix Camp amb coproducció amb la Xarxa de Comunicació Local, perquè conegueu tota l'actualitat de la comarca. L'entrada Infopodcast BXC | Fan treballs de gestió forestal en 500 ha del futur parc de les Muntanyes de Prades per prevenir grans incendis ha aparegut primer a BXC Ràdio Ciutat de Reus - Ràdio Online.

Bon dia a tothom, bona tarda o bona nit, però agafa el cafè, el tè o la llet d'avellana del Baix Camp. Aquest és l'Infopodcast setmanal de les vil·les de la comarca del Baix Camp amb coproducció amb la Xarxa de Comunicació Local, perquè conegueu tota l'actualitat de la comarca. L'entrada Infopodcast BXC | Fan treballs de gestió forestal en 500 ha del futur parc de les Muntanyes de Prades per prevenir grans incendis ha aparegut primer a BXC Ràdio Ciutat de Reus - Ràdio Online.

El Cinema a La Xarxa d'aquesta setmana est

La muntanya de Montserrat i la Moreneta han sigut un referent, des de fa temps, a l'hora d'inspirar i donar nom a composicions per a cobla. Avui repassem algunes de les m

De tant en tant ens agrada aturar-nos en aquelles grans formacions, orquestres o cors, grups nombrosos de m

De la mateixa manera que fa uns dies compart

Escolta 'La Gran Revolta' presentat per Àngels Fuster i Queta Giner. El capítol es titula 'DONES GRANS: Víctimes invisibles de la violència masclista'. El programa està organitzat pel Consell Comarcal del Garraf i el Consell Consultiu de la Gent Gran del Garraf. Col·labora SIAD Garraf i Ràdio Cubelles. Amb el suport de la Diputació de Barcelona podcast recorded with enacast.com

Bon dia a tothom, bona tarda o bona nit, però agafa el cafè, el tè o la llet d'avellana del Baix Camp. Aquest és l'Infopodcast setmanal de les vil·les de la comarca del Baix Camp amb coproducció amb la Xarxa de Comunicació Local, perquè conegueu tota l'actualitat de la comarca. L'entrada Infopodcast BXC | Simulen un incendi a grans àrees de la central nuclear de Vandellòs II per exercitar l'organització de resposta ha aparegut primer a BXC Ràdio Ciutat de Reus - Ràdio Online.

Back with Libra; but first some nonsensical news. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..  “Just as echoes pollute sound, the echoes of our histories pollute our view of the World.” Katrina Explains the ‘Ash Men' "Amazons keep rather accurate histories, basing everything on lunar cycles. Our records, with minor gaps, date back to the Great Betrayal," Katrina began. "By modern parlance, around 1000 BCE, our ancestors stopped a millennia of a nomadic existence to settle in the land between the Váh, Hron rivers and Danube rivers." "You bitches know who the Magyar are," I interrupted abruptly. Sure, that region was in current day Slovakia, but it bordered Hungary, my ancestral homeland, even though our residency was separated by over 1500 years. "Of course I know who the Magyar are," Katrina shook her head mirthfully. "I simply can't resist busting your balls." I muttered angrily while avoiding using actual words. "Our numbers were enough to seize and hold the land," Katrina continued. "For centuries before that, we raided for men from tribes whose land we were moving through. After a few seasons, we disposed of the men and took some more." "When we chose to settle down, our Council decided to raid distant tribes and steal boys to be raised among our people. At first the males were virtual slaves yet in three generations, our people began seeing males as fathers, brothers and sons. We trained them in crafts. A few generations later, we voted to train them to be guardians; protectors of our hearths while the Host made war." "For eighteen generations things went well. We prospered, grew rich and strong. The tribes around us feared our wrath which made us proud yet was our undoing. New, stronger tribes migrated into the region from the West; we now know them to be Celts. The genesis of House Epona is from those first meetings. Many Celtic women embraced the Amazon lifestyle." "Though they knew of our strength, the first of these new tribes quickly went from peaceful coexistence to warfare. The Host crushed them. The problem was that new tribes kept coming and coming. Dirges of Mourning replaced the sweet taste of victory around our fires. We were always winning the key conflicts but our numbers were diminishing." "The males came to the Council and begged for the opportunity to join the Host in battle. Twice we rejected them. The third time, we relented and allowed a select few males to join us in the fight and for a time the balance was restored. Our doom crept upon us. More conflict resulted in more men taking up arms to fight." "What the Council could not perceive was the insidious influence of our enemies and it swept upon us on the wings of ravens by night; druids. Masculine deities, ethos and egos combined with our own blind arrogance to bring about our downfall. Constant contact with the Celts brought a different cultural view to our men. They began to question why women should rule." "Somewhere around the year 680 BCE, it began. It was not a calamity over in a night, or even a week yet once it began there was no stopping it. Most of our males, never fighters, were taken as slaves by their former brothers and their new Celtic masters. Not all fighting males betrayed us. Those males risked their very lives to sneak into fallen towns and villages to rescue their daughters." "The penalty our enemies exacted on our remaining fighting males was meant to keep the rest in line. They burned those brave men alive, in public. They burned them slowly, in much agony; the druids showed them how it was done. There is no record of any of our fighting males switching sides, or failing to undertake any mission for the Host. We survived as a people because of them." "When all hope of remaining in our new homes faded, we fled east into the mountains. My ancestors were furious, frightened and shamed. They decided they had let down their guards around men and swore to never do it again. The only obstacle to this way of thinking was the handful of men who risked all for the Host's survival and still lived." "They sent those male survivors on one last, suicidal mission. They were to return home and incite the Celts' wrath against the traitor males. For the Hell they unleashed, the druids were chosen for this final act vengeance. Amazon males slew the druids. The angry Celts fell upon their former allies, slaughtering the lot. "Somehow, a tiny band returned to their mistresses. Their return was unexpected. In their absence, the High Priestess and Council decided to rectify their centuries' old error in judgment. Only a few Houses; Arinniti among them; knows how each Council member voted yet the final decision is something we are dealing with today." "The 'valiant' Host went to their defenseless sons and butchered them. When the last Amazon males made it back they were rewarded with death as well. It is recorded that they didn't even resist, loyal to their last drop of blood. In less than ten minute's time, the last of the male line of Amazons perished." "These are the 'Ash Men' Oneida mentioned. Burned to death by our enemies for their devotion to us, burned to ash by the Host to hide our shame after we killed them for the crime of never betraying us. All full-blooded Amazons are taught about the Second Betrayal; except that last, pathetic and tragic addendum," Katrina educated me. "Oh shit," I interrupted. I was sure Katrina had more to tell me but I felt the hideous weight of this; now shared; past. "You believe that when this gets out, as all secrets do, it will undermine everything you have built. You did more than utterly betray those loyal brothers, you murdered your own sons." "That is one of the most serious issues the Council is dealing with," Elsa finally spoke. "That makes sense, but you are forgetting something," I shook my head. "Times change, people change, circumstances change. The Host misses the point." "That point would be?" Katrina studied me. I believed this was more of a case she wanted me to make the logical next step. "You betrayed us," I stated. "The lesson is not that men were lured away from the Amazon cause, it was that despite every reason to save themselves, men stayed loyal to the grisly end. If the Host is mindful and respectful, we males would rather be 'Ash Men' and safeguard our sons and daughters." "Men volunteered to fight, they did fight and fought well yet the Host refused to acknowledge anything had changed," I then paused. "Which is why I'm learning how to shoot, and knife-fight and why Elsa is here. Katrina, with the upmost respect; you are a manipulative bitch." "Cáel, I let you get away with a great deal," Katrina smirked. "Don't take advantage of it." "You seem to forget that I consider being murdered by your ilk highly more desirable than slavery," I retorted. "I hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, you know you can't win," Katrina pointed out. "I have more invested in the fight than you do," I stated. "I'm fighting for the future of my people. You know that," Katrina bantered. "I'm fighting for my sons to be allowed to live free of bondage, or thrown from the cliffs, and for my daughters to not be a plague on the human soul," I grinned. "You would turn my daughters into Fabiola and; you can't even agree on letting the other half of your own offspring live, as if that was something 'normal' mothers would ever discuss." "Fabiola? Not Aya?" Katrina prodded. "I ignore the reality of Aya because I love her. There is no saving her. Your reach makes it hopeless, she wouldn't understand and she is already too poisoned by the rest of you anyway," I explained. "Watching her inevitable slide into madness is another reason for me to seek death in battle." "I enjoy these chats," Katrina smiled as she stood up. "You are a very complex individual and crossing wits with you has been an unexpected pleasure. Good night." Elsa moved to follow Katrina to the door. "Elsa?" I called out. She half-turned. "Try going with French cut instead of boy shorts tomorrow." There was a fey light in Elsa's eyes. I continued to creep closer to having status in her eyes. Not a sentient; I was that already. Amazons didn't have a glorious rival. Strong rivals you killed as soon as possible. Cáel Nyilas had become a nebulous entity treading down unexplored pathways in her until-now internally consistent World. "I won't let you win," she gave me a molten, hungry look. "I bet you say that to all the guys," I shot back. "Only the ones I care about," she gave me one more promissory fuck-note, turned and left. I didn't have time to mull over my bleak future forecast. Yasmin was coming over and we were definitely not going out to eat.  (Wednesday Night) Yasmin had a kink I hadn't really had to deal with before. She liked having sex standing up; anywhere. Sure I had made love in hallways, showers and against a refrigerator once, but Yasmin took this to a whole new level. The most horizontal I got her was fucking her on my bedroom dresser. She was also an aggressive nibbler which is a kind way of saying she bites down hard without breaking the skin. The scars would fade by morning, but I was going to catch Hell from Timothy and Odette later tonight. Our experience was; enhanced by yet another reality I was unaware of. Yasmin's ex was an 'intellectual'. In Brazil that must translate as a small penis with limited stamina, but don't hold me to that. Since the birth of her son and the 'incident' with her husband, Yasmin hadn't much 'personal' time; read: not much finger, or vibrator usage. Yasmin was tight, famished and extra aroused by me kicking Felix's macho ass an hour earlier. I ushered Yasmin into my place, she was looking smoky yet contained, so I gave her the ten cent tour. When I turned around, her sandals, pants and shirt were off. Silky violet was a good color on her. Yasmin didn't rush the removal of her final items, using their skimpy allure to draw me in like a striker to the goal. My Brazilian MILF loved being appreciated for every nuanced curve, scent and taste. She let me slip off her bra first then she pulled off my shirt. She didn't let me get behind her. This allowed her to pace her own aggression. Cáel was along for the ride. This wasn't fem domination, just a very hungry lady looking for some first-rate sportsmanship. Lucky for me, I was a full service arena with overtime expertise. Every little 'Give and Go' and 'tackle' was received, or dodged to keep our game in play. Here I was thinking of swinging a little more upper body workout later tonight. Yasmin's gymnastics made that redundant. My first insertion was welcomed by her. Yasmin repaid my diligence with lip services, strong hands massaging my back and arms, plus timely input concerning what was good and bad without running over the passion. Yasmin was not at Buffy's level of competition. Instead she brought her own torrid spirit that was new and exciting. I had no idea how Yasmin's husband ever found the energy to cheat on her. Yasmin would seek breaks in our activities. The rest of the hour-plus she was either at a vivid simmer, or a full-on blowtorch. Half the time I didn't even have to direct our intimacy; Yasmin was happy to manage all of the movements using her thighs, stomach muscles and arms to make it a highly memorable performance. As we staggered down from the peak of my climax, a sweaty, panting Yasmin informed me that she was glad she had started doing handstand push-ups once more. For those not in the know, imagine doing a handstand facing a wall. Now push your body up the wall which is occasionally done with your fingertips if you are a true bad-ass; like Yasmin and Timothy. That is another exercise I'm going to have to work on. Jacking-off and squeezing stress balls wasn't going to cut it anymore. "Ora, ora, meu bombom precioso ;  muito bom," Yasmin purred as I put her legs down; I had been holding the back of her knees with my elbows. "I'm the bomb? Sweet!" I sounded as energetic as I was able. My Brazilian Nitro-girl began laughing. "What did the rest of it mean?" "With every orgasm you give me, I'll give you a word," she taunted me. I looked at the ceiling. "I'm looking for a downside to that challenge," I met her gaze. "I can't see one." "We'll see about that when I leave. I have a sitter until 11:00 p.m. so you have good deal of bravado I want you to back-up," Yasmin looked carnivorously-aroused. We did get around to getting cleaned up then hoofed it to a local Egyptian cuisine eatery. On the way back, I screwed her against a streetlamp with the light burned out. You see a good deal of humor about girls in super-tight pants and all the contortions they go through to get into them. Peeling them out is much, much easier. Maybe it is the inspiration that makes the difference. Best of all, the reactions of people walking around us, or across the street. Overt disgust, ignoring the whole situation, and, my favorite, the running commentary. (First couple) #1 Girl: "Why don't we ever do that?" #1 Guy: "Do you bend that way?" (Second couple) #2 Girl: "Do you think she's hotter than me?" #2 Guy: "Let's go down to the next lamppost and find out." (Third couple) #3 Guy: "Don't they have a bed, or are they homeless?" There was no way we were dressed like homeless! #3 Girl: "You have all the romance of a rhino." Somebody wasn't getting some tonight. And because we were in a major metropolis, (Fourth couple) #4 Girl (1): "Are you practicing safe sex? If not, I have a condom," she touched my shoulder. Me: "We are good. I use Durex normally, though I'll use Trojan too." #4 Girl (2): "Are you okay, Miss?" Yasmin: (unhappy): "I'm fine. Now either let my man get back to slaking my every lust, or join in." #4 Girl (2) "Are you serious?" to Yasmin. #4 Girl (1) "Are you okay with this?" she addressed me. "She's my girlfriend." A few seconds of grunting, gasping sex ensued. Yasmin: "Yes, I am serious and you two are killing the mood. Mount up, or get off my horsy." The two ladies looked at one another. #4 Girl (1): "She's very ho; attractive. What do you say? It is safe sex," hint, hint. And thus I had a lesbian four-way. The first girl, Evie, was bi- and worked at Planned Parenthood, explaining the condom lore. Girl two, Samantha, was a lesbian, but having a strong sex drive, decided that Yasmin was as luscious as I thought she was. Back at my place, it took Samantha thirty minutes to get used to sharing her bed with a man. By then she decided I wasn't the enemy, despite my penis and hunger for the female form. Evie and Yasmin had zip inhibitions and let the lesbian and the straight guy work our differences while they basked in each other's femininity. Yasmin insisted she wasn't a lesbian, or bi-sexual. She had no sexual hang ups and found American's confusing because they did. We had wrapped up the first round with Evie giving me a quick blowjob because I had been a good boy and kept my sperm holstered for the entire encounter. Samantha threw on one of Odette's t-shirts (I didn't explain) and went to the bathroom. I got washed up; Samantha gave me a dirty look from the toilet then I reminded her I'd just seen her naked. We both exited to the living room and took up spots on the sofa as we waited for our prospective partner. I heard my roommates keys jingle in the lock. He walked in, taking in the now familiar scene of me with a new girl on the sofa. "Timothy Denver!" Samantha squealed when my roommate showed up. "Sammy; what are you doing in my apartment; with him?" Timothy meant me. They (Timothy and Samantha) hugged each other, Timothy lifting her off the ground. "Me and Evie are sharing his girlfriend," Samantha explained. "Which one?" Timothy put her down. Samantha shot me a semi-hostile look. Yasmin and Evie came out of the bedroom; having found Evie's clothing. That was their story and I wasn't going to argue with it. "Hi Timothy!" Evie ran up and hugged him too. Up she went. "Timothy, this is Yasmin," I made introductions. "The Brazilian Hottie," Timothy noted. "Yasmin, is Cáel sleeping around you on you?" Samantha inquired. "No. Cáel has sex with far too many other women to cheat on me," she informed them. Samantha didn't know what to make of that. "That means she's aware that I date a lot," I explained. I would have asked how Samantha, Evie and Timothy knew each other except now all their body art made sense. "Timothy, are you and Cáel;” Samantha asked. Timothy rolled his eyes. "God, I wish," Timothy sighed dramatically. "The dick on this guy is phenomenal." "Sammy, I know you would never, ever, ever go that way, but if you did, do it with Cáel here," Timothy told her. "He is the most sensitive, skilled and empathic lover I've ever seen. He's not at all possessive and totally confident in who he is." Sammy didn't look like she was contemplating a gender-preference switch. She was getting between me and Evie. "As long as you understand you, me and Evie," Sammy warned me. "Sadly, fidelity is not one of my virtues," I shrugged. "I could lie to you about it. You seem to be Timothy's friend, so I should treat you better than that." "You can trust me around Cáel," Evie insisted. "No, we can't," Timothy, Sammy and Yasmin all spoke simultaneously. I wasn't trustworthy, but at least I was consistently untrustworthy. "Listen to your friends and the woman you barely know," I met Evie's gaze. "I know I couldn't control myself around you and we'd both regret it." No we wouldn't. I could see that fire deep in her eyes. We were going to have sex again, just me and she. I was a lowdown dirty dog who gave an incredible dicking and I'd already made an insertion into Evie's body and mind. Not that it was terribly important to me; she was okay at sex, though not great. My words were for the listening audience. Timothy knew me better. "Cáel," Timothy stated firmly. "For me, man; don't fool around with Evie." I'd lied to roommates all the time. Like the women in my life, I wanted to keep them happy, or happily neutral. That attitude suddenly didn't work for me. "How?" sort of spilled out. No one expected my plaintive cry for relationship help. "What?" Sammy gulped. Yasmin snickered. She knew the score. "Sammy, Cáel's nailed a girl who was making a food delivery to us. In around an hour and a half, a waitress he met for a minute and gave his number to, will be here. She moved into his room. They are not a couple," Timothy tried to explain. "She lives here to hang out with me and bangs Cáel when he doesn't have anyone else over, yet, I swear on Buddha's Belly, I've never seen him abuse a girl," Timothy continued. "It is the strangest damn thing I've ever seen. He's stacked them up like jets at LaGuardia." "He's a shit-head player," Sammy glared. "Do you feel used?" Yasmin pointed out. "You don't because you weren't. He's not trying to out-dick your vagina. He's not out to steal Evie. He is admittedly hormonally unbalanced. That doesn't make him a bastard. I'm not here looking for a boyfriend and if I was, it would never be Cáel." "If you can get past the fact he might have sex with your girlfriend from time to time, he's really a great guy," Yasmin added. "Cáel is fearless and as long as sex is not involved, completely reliable." Sammy was clearly not believing any of this, finally turning back to Timothy. "He gives an incredibly good dicking, he's a dog, and he's one of my best friends," Timothy shrugged. I had been 'one of the guys', a 'buddy' and 'dude'. I had never been considered a man's best friend before and I had never heard Timothy toss that term around about anybody. I went up and hugged him. "Dude, you have lousy taste in friends," I patted his back. "Cáel, I have plenty of friends who wouldn't abandon me in a fight. You are the only person I know who took an arrow for a little girl you barely knew," Timothy patted my back. "You don't find that dedication often. In the past two months we've been through more freaky shit than I've experience in the past ten years. Faults and all, this has been the best time of my life." I stepped back until we were at arm's length. "I take that back. You don't have lousy taste in friends; you are delusional," I blinked. "He got shot; took an arrow; for a little girl?" Sammy gulped. "How come this is the first I'm hearing about it?" "That would be the bandage on your leg?" Evie pointed. "I have a dangerous job," I regarded the new girls. "I test poultry for signs of intelligence. Let's just say that a sleeper cell got past me and chaos ensued." "Translation: he can't talk about it," Yasmin smirked. "What do you do you really do?" Sammy pressed. "I'm working on a special project. We are taping strobe lights to Garden Gnomes then, using hobby store-bought rockets, my corporation is going to sell them as a Developing World-friendly alternative to the current GPS system," I looked grim. "Really?" Sammy looked uncertain. "I work for a really sleazy corporation," I confessed. "There is nothing they wouldn't do for a buck." "That's heartless," Sammy protested. "Men like that are raping the planet and exploiting the poor." "Sammy, I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments. I am one of three men in the entire workforce; that is well over 10,000 women; undoubtedly more," I smirked. "If it is any consolation, I am treated as little more than a pin-up model by my co-workers." "Oh wow," Evie snickered. "Were you hired for your looks?" "Hardly," I declared with authority. "I majored in Business with a minor in Philosophy from Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire, an institute of higher learning renowned for its 70% female student population and nothing else. Still, I am working for a Fortune 500 company at a job I am totally unqualified for, earning an unheard of starting salary and constantly required to work shirtless, or naked." "Personally, I think it was my creative writing skills that won them over," I nodded sagely. "You are a jerk," Timothy snorted. "I hate it when you tell the truth and make it sound unbelievable. It is a skill I've never seen wielding so cuttingly." No one said anything for a few seconds. "It is really annoying that no one believes I earned my position because I'm actually intelligent and hard-working," I grumbled. "Welcome to the world of a Carnival dancer," Yasmin laughed. "I was going 'a blond bimbo'," Sammy agreed, "but that works too." That broke down the social ice. Letting yourself soak up a bit of ridicule can pay huge dividends. I was going to be back in bed with every single woman in the room; even the lesbian, though I'd be sharing a girl with her, wait and see. For some reason, Sammy remained convinced I was an asshole, so she dared me to kiss Timothy. I shrugged, Timothy shrugged, so we kissed. Seriously, I have no clue what I Won't do for sex. When Timothy slipped me some tongue I nutted him. As he doubled over, I told him I wasn't the kind of guy who went beyond second base on the first date. The group informed me that second base was touching my cock; whoops. Then Evie reminded me that I had sex with her within fifteen minutes of our initial meeting. I replied I hadn't had anal sex with her yet, but if that was the case, I was sure Timothy would be a good sport about it all. Timothy had finally gotten back to his feet. Again, he nodded. This time he snatched me up, bench pressed me over his head (man, we need to re-spackle the ceiling) and bounced me off the sofa. Timothy is really strong too. I hit the floor, face down, but with my knees and palms catching my weight. I quickly summersaulted and regained my footing. I trusted Timothy. Still, talking about anal sex with a big, buff gay man then assuming the doggy-style position; let's not tempt fate. My antics earned me another round of sex. After Evie exploded (figuratively) all over the place with her; third euphoria, I looked over Yasmin's shoulder to Sammy, who was sexing up my Brazilian from the other side. "I have totally and completely re-evaluated having a lesbian in bed with me, Sammy," I testified. "You rock!" Sammy shot me a look, realized I was expounding true praise and picked up her ravishing of Yasmin. After we demolished Yasmin, Sammy mounted me. She wanted a 'test drive' more than anything else; the experience of feeling the differences between the masculine and feminine skeletal and muscular textures and nuances. "Can I touch your breasts?" I requested. Sammy thought it over, eventually giving me an 'okay' look. She had those nice, banana-cone shaped breasts with huge areolas and sizable nipples. I started off by lifting and weighing each teat, taking it nice and leisurely. Sammy decided I was doing a passable job so she stopped studying me and got into the sensation of the moment. That little gasp cued me in that I had earned the right to move a little farther. Her nipples were already engaged. A half-dozen grazing passes and they were definitely joyous. Lesbians, bi-sexual and straight women all have the same physiology, yet different visually, audibly, and olfactory stimuli were specific arousal cues. Most lesbians didn't like Old Spice, The Firemen of New York calendars and Enrique Iglesias. At the very least they aren't throwing their panties at Enrique. Touch and taste tend to be unisex. Baring you having big, calloused man-paws, fingers are fingers and hands are hands. Taste is taste and more individual specific than gender-related. Sorry ladies, your sweat can stink as much as a men's does. It is more a matter of diet. Both sexes should clean up 'down there'. It is common sexual courtesy, so use it. When I can, I use a subtle cologne though I've used women's Secret deodorant on rare occasions. It earned me curious looks every time, but it never stopped them. Sammy was already taking quick gulps of air when her worried eyes looked down at me again. She wanted to tell me to stop. She was caught in a double bind; she was getting gratification and the only reason to refuse it was because I was a man; a man she had allowed to touch her. That would make her either sexist, or a bigot. Never ignore the allure of the female orgasm. Add to that, never ignore the power of friendship. As Sammy struggled to master her 'lesbian outrage', Evie sneaked behind her, wiggling two fingers. "Evie," Sammy moaned in protest. "Sammy-love, he's not trying to fuck you," Evie murmured to her companion. "You are liking what he's doing and you know you have dynamite nipples. Let him have a sample." To me, "She likes a whole lot of suction and a tiny bit of teeth." Sammy attempted some kind of protest. Yasmin stroking Sammy's upper thigh, hip and stomach breached the dam of her inhibitions. So, I had a lesbian lowering her body toward mine. First her palms rested on my shoulders. Sammy's body flowed up mine until her elbows replaced her hands. As advised, I applied a wet vacuum seal. I twirled my tongue around her savory flesh, bringing Sammy to the point she embraced her tantric titillation. "You should have longer hair," she purred as she ran one hand through my locks. "I don't normally go for butch girls." You guys go be indignant if you wish. These were some sweet teats I was indulging in and I had zero regrets about 'girling-up' for a lesbian. Sammy finally climbed to the mountaintop of her orgasmic quest and howled out her victory. She cascaded down on me, my lower stomach syrupy with her juices and her bosom muzzling my face. Yasmin went to her knees, leaned over Sammy's prostrate form and began seriously making out with Evie. I lived in a vortex of unexpected pleasure and fulfillment. I had taken part in making a lesbian sexually complete. "You are the best guy I've ever been with," Sammy murmured. "He's the only guy you've ever been with," Evie teased. "Fine. He's still the best. Cáel, have you ever thought about becoming a post-op transsexual?" Sammy giggled. "No!" Yasmin protested. "That's where I draw the line. Cáel keeps his tender bits." "Mmm Mmm," I added my voice against that proposal. To punish Sammy for even bringing that up, I latched onto a breast like a starving lamprey and went to town. Damn right that put her in her place. Fifteen minute later, she finally let me come up for air. Ten minutes after that, we stumbled out of the apartment. I was going to see Yasmin safely home; she snickered then, seeing my hurt feelings, told me I was very brave and could take her home. Evie and Sammy lived close by. They had known Timothy from his days working at an ink place in Queens, but had lost touch when he opened his own place on the East Side. They promised to stay in touch. Sometimes I don't even have to try. Maybe that's why Timothy got so pissy with me at times. As for Yasmin and me, I fucked her in the hallway right outside her domicile because she still had twenty minutes left on her babysitter and there was a convenient vertical surface. We both went home with smiles on our faces. I met up with Odette walking up to my; now our; place. She wanted all the juicy details, helped me change our sheets, promised to do our laundry tomorrow morning and then we had sex. I was set up on my feet, shins and knees, Odette facing away from me and grinding her lush tight end on my rod when the door opened and Timothy Nerf-shot me; cause I definitely deserved it. (Thursday) Thursday was good. I inspected artificial wood products for artificial termites. Actually, I started out with Constanza; really Naomi and her Merry Band now; and learned how to actually fire a personal defense weapon. No more 'spray and pray' for me. They told me they had a special surprise for me on Friday. Color me concerned. According to Medical, I was a lousy lab monkey. Then Katrina informed me it was Brian's turn today to get poked, prodded and forced to cough up millions of little Brian-lettes for Havenstone's perverse pleasures. I e-mailed Brian my best wishes. I was seriously starting to question those 'so-called' medical experts ethical integrity. I worked with Buffy, teamed up with the Daphne/Desiree combo. Why? Because there was an emergency board meeting on Friday. I wasn't told this, but Daphne and I figured it out. To put some extra butter on my hell-bound soul, an agent of Rhada's gave me a private note informing me she wanted to talk. Keeping to Amazon Princess Rape Fantasy Bondage protocols, I ate the message before Buffy could pry it from my hands. Bad enough was all these crazy females trying to kill me, I also had to keep track of which ones hated the other ones. It reminded me of dating sorority sisters, except this time out, I could never leave the sorority house and they almost never went to classes. Oh, and they are all related to Jason Voorhees (that's the maniac from the Friday the 13th movies for those who had lived constructive lives) and we were adjacent to an Ace Hardware store. Plus I had a date with Libra and I was dedicated to 'tapping that ass' at least once more before I died. And, there was more! Deena, the swimming, 'fingers in her cunt' buddy dropped me a line telling me she was 'expecting' me this afternoon. There was no way I could swing that, despite her request that could be only construed as an order. I simply didn't have the time. I e-mailed her back, pleading for her to be in a bikini with several suggested sites for her to visit. Before my designated knife training, I had a fucked-up brainstorm about what to do with Rhada. I wrote a letter in Old Kingdom Hittite, sealed it in wax with the imprint of the symbol 'Lowest' on it, representing me, though Rhada's submissive side could easily misinterpret that. To get it to her, I went to the only one who could meet her face to face who I could trust. Katrina? Laughable. She could do it but she wouldn't touch this disaster with a three meter pole made out of male vertebrae. The only other person who met all the criteria; Oneida. Yes, I was a fucktard, fuck-nut and a waste of human potential. "Oneida, I need a favor," I asked the moment I hunted her down in Acquisitions. "Of course," her eyes lit up, her lips moistened and breathe quickened. She wasn't wanting a quick tussle in a side room. The chick wanted to be held closely while I whispered love poetry into her ear for her to hear alone. I was letting her down abysmally. "I need this message hand delivered to Rhada," I pressed the missive into her hands. She didn't know how to wrap her mind around that. Rhada? She knew we had fought, but what contact had we shared since then? She made the sane 'girl-logic' assumption. "Cáel, are you in trouble," she worried. Oh, I wish it was only trouble. "Not that you can help me with. If you can't do this, I'll find another way," I sighed. Yes, I was playing her. Oneida would run over hot coals for me. "No, no; I'll do it; why? Why Rhada?" Oneida pleaded. "I can't say and you cannot look at the message. It is critical that she, and she alone sees this," I impressed on her the importance of saving my life without saying 'please save my life'. By asking her to not look at the message, I increased the odds she'd look. I had no choice. If I didn't say anything about it, she'd make an excuse to look and tell herself that I hadn't forbidden her to look. Add to that, she was my racial superior. In her case, this meant she had to look out for my best interest. Oneida nodded and watched me leave. Training with Pamela was hands on this day. I had a wooden blade with a lead core to give me a better feel for the proper weight. Pamela had a meter long wooden rod. She had a miraculous ability to move her baton in a blur yet not hurt my fingers, hand, or wrist. It was very instructional. I was practicing stabbing and a bit of slashing. I left with a sense I'd added something useful to my repertoire. I wasn't calling out Elsa anytime soon; heck, I wasn't calling out Europa, Aya's 13 year old sister either. As we were cleaning up, Pamela noticed my uncertainty. "What is it?" she asked. "Oh, it is that you've resisted the urge to cause me pain," I mused. "Normally, I find Amazons to be very harsh." "That is certainly a common training style here," Pamela nodded. "I chose showing a student how to do things right as opposed to reminding the student what they did wrong." "Good enough. Thanks for treating me like I matter," I grinned. "What makes you think that?" Pamela and I started to leave the little dojo. Note, she didn't say 'assume'. "Trust me, I'm a sperm donor with sex appeal to virtually every other screwy dame in this place," I smirked. "I know the difference between what I see in their eyes and yours," I winked. "Ash Man," Pamela remarked. She zinged me, alright. "My granddaughters talk of you and not in a way I would expect Amazon women to talk about a male." "That and an Egg McMuffin;” I shrugged. "Means you won't die hungry," Pamela shrugged along with me. "This is why I volunteered to teach you; you deserve every chance to go out unconquered." "Do you think I have a chance; of that?" I questioned. "Not really. I didn't think I would ever be talking to a man in my native language again either, so who knows," she added. "Do you think I'm an Ash Man?" I wondered. Male; OKH; again? "I haven't a clue what one is," she rolled her shoulders. "I am neither my House Leader, nor its Keeper of Records." "Oh; what are you then?" I asked. The response she gave didn't make sense. "Cliff-walker? I don't know;” I furrowed my brow. "I am past my useful life yet refuse to take myself to the cliffs," Pamela told me. "I have unfinished business to attend to in this World." "What is that; if that isn't too rude?" I inquired. "A dead man spoke to me. He told me I would never find my way to the halls of my ancestors until I replaced a life for a life," she related. "That's; umm; odd," I suggested. "Cáel, I severed his throat to the spine. Even had he somehow been alive, he could not have spoken. Then there is the matter of speaking the Amazon tongue," Pamela continued. "Did he tell you anything else?" I played along. "No." "How will you know what life you should save; to replace a life for a life?" I searched her out. "He had the most unforgettable emerald green eyes," she filled me in. Just like my eyes. We had stepped into the elevator when she told me that. There were five other Amazons with us. I didn't know any of them. I reached out and put my hand on Pamela's stomach. "Whatever happens to me, and I don't want you to die, or anything; I want you to know you've done what needed to be done," I assured her. Pamela's laugh was so loud, deep and resounding, I was stunned that it came from such a thin frame. "That, my friend, is what being an Amazon is all about," Pamela slapped my back. What she said was wrong in so many ways and the Amazons around us knew it. I wasn't an Amazon and equating me to one of them was insulting to their feminine martial ardor. Also, no Amazon had ever called me a friend and meant it in a non-sexual manner. Things were getting uncomfortable. "Matron," one of the Amazons spoke up, "are you feeling well?" That was a polite way of saying 'have you lost your mind?' "Do you know why there are twenty 'First' Houses?" Pamela addressed me and ignored the others. "Not really. It wasn't in the Havenstone Handbook," I tried to sound innocently curious. "The first Amazon to escape capture came back for the rest," Pamela related. "She was free and if she was recaptured she would have certainly been raped again and most likely killed. She came back because no risk is too great for one's family. Like the first of the Unconquered, you risk everything for the spiritual and physical safety of your sisters." "He is not one of us!" a different Amazon insisted. "How bizarre that none of these crazy bitches can see it," Pamela smiled. "Who are you again?" I gave Pamela a worried look. "A discarded heroine, Cáel," Pamela answered. "I am an embarrassment, an anachronism and an arrogant warrior humbled." Clearly this was part of Havenstone's history I wasn't supposed to be privileged to hear. "You don't date much, do you?" I changed things up. Pamela snorted. "This whole scarred scholar-warrior with a tragic past works better with your moping, 19th century literature-reading college types. Cavemen like me prefer slinky clothing and feigned idiocy." "I'll keep that in mind," Pamela snickered. By the bug-eyed expression of our fellow travelers, Pamela was indeed some kind of heroic figure. She held no position, but her status was undeniable. "How about this: I will forgo taking myself to the cliffs until you give me my first great-granddaughter." "As long as we agree that I'm never going without a condom for the next five years," I counter-offered. "By the way, which two am I going to be surreptitiously avoiding?" "Brielle and Daphne," Pamela appeared amused with my expression. "Holy crap!" I exclaimed. "I really like those two. This is going to be tougher keeping you alive than I thought." "How many more days?" Pamela teased. "67," I groaned as we stepped out onto the Executive Services floor. Technically, I had an hour left of my work-day. "Look on the bright side, our first great-grandchild could be a Son," Pamela joked. Pamela clearly enjoyed 'freaking out' the Normals; the normal Amazon population that is. "That would truly suck," I remarked. "You ladies have zero experience with male names and no boy of mine is going to be named Shirley. Picking the baby boy names is going to be all on me." "How about Augustus?" Pamela suggested. I looked stunned. Buffy, having heard my voice, hopped up from her station and came blazing my way. I hadn't done a damn thing wrong yet she was angry with me. She didn't know Pamela and I hoped to hell I wasn't hitting on; okay, Pamela was a bit odd-looking. I'd still do her. "Cáel," Buffy snapped. "What is going on? Don't you have a job to do; with me?" "Buffy, this is Pamela. She's my knife instructor," I said. "Pamela, this is Buffy DuBois, my (dead word spoken)." Literally in Old Kingdom Hittite that meant 'mountaintop'. Pamela clearly got the implication. Buffy's fury about me slipping into OKH was mitigated by Pamela's appraising look. "Okay," Buffy grumbled. "What was that?" "Pinnacle, peak, highest point, mountaintop," Pamela answered for me. "I would wager it is a term of endearment and praise, but feel free to be offended despite him using the word for my benefit as opposed to yours. He might have incorrectly thought you knew how much he cared for you." Verbal beat down! "Who are you, anyway?" Buffy struggled to be polite. "Pamela Pile," my instructor stated. "I am not employed by Havenstone anymore." "That's not; possible;” Buffy questioned. "She is Brielle's and Daphne's Grandmother, Buffy," I explained. "That's nice," Buffy was less than impressed. "Cáel, take care. Buffy, I know nothing of men, but I know camaraderie and I know you can throw that away as quickly as you earned it," Pamela gave an even stare. "By the way, Pamela, you clearly have never been a kid on a playground," I joked. Buffy was irritated while Pamela was amused. "With a name like Augustus, he's either going to toughen up really fast, or get flattened. Trust me. My name was Cáel aka Cabbage Head all through elementary school." "What did they call you in; middle school? It is middle school, correct?" Pamela inquired. "Yes; middle school. By 6th grade, I was firmly a 'nobody'," I enlightened her. "Hell, my teachers could barely recall who I was. I stayed that way until I graduated high school." "I had asthma as a child," Pamela related. "I barely made it through my 12th year." "What did you do when you; is the term 'casted', or 'choosing a caste?" I posed. "It varies. Sometimes we choose and sometimes the caste chooses us," Pamela answered. "I ended up here, in what is now known as Executive Services." "Great," I grinned. "I bet you were enticed by our intensive training in marshmallow juggling. Am I right?" "Not really," Pamela grew serious. "I came here so I could build obstacle courses for kittens. It is an unappreciated melding of animal conditioning and engineering." I was really liking Pamela. She was like a kindred spirit in this madhouse. "Speaking of 'animal conditioning', Cáel, we need to get to work," Buffy huffed and off I went. We finished up, had our after-work meeting and began to head-out for the day. "Daphne, I met your grandmother; nice lady," I told my 'new hire' buddy. "Really, what was she doing here?" Daphne smiled affectionately. I need to wear a dead rat around my neck; the deader the better. "She is teaching me how to knife fight," I told her. Her not knowing that was odd. "Oh; I didn't know she did that," Daphne frowned. "She worked in Executive Services," I said. That appeared news to Daphne as well. "I thought that was why you joined." "Katrina," Daphne looked to our boss, "was my grandmother in the (dead word spoken) service?" That word roughly meant 'darkness of night' in OKH, but like so many things in a 'dead' language, interpretation could be sketchy. "She was before my time," Katrina nodded. "I do recall her legacy though." "What did she do? Normally I wouldn't care, except Pamela is a laugh riot," I smirked. "She was the most lethal Amazon assassin of the 20th century," Katrina stated deadpan. "Grans?" Daphne gasped. "She's always been so odd; I mean nice." "What happened to her?" I muttered. "I don't know," Katrina mused. "She came back from her last mission then took herself to the cliffs. A few weeks later she returned with no explanation for that either." "Well crap," I groaned. "She's never going to forgive me for that 'wet willy' (getting a fingertip slick with your saliva then sticking it in an opponent's ear). I'm a goner." Daphne play-punched me. We all heard the subsonic rumbling from the door. According to Buffy, she was the only one allowed to cause me physical discomfort and resented Daphne horning in on 'her turf'. Buffy had a new weapon in her arsenal this afternoon. "Your (dead word spoken) wants you to come here," Buffy snapped. Even Katrina looked at her in some confusion. "I was told that was a good thing," Buffy sizzled. "It most likely interpreted as 'most prized', or 'most esteemed'," Tigger translated. "Precisely it means 'mountaintop'." Buffy stuck out her chin proudly. "Cáel, I believe I made my desire clear," she commanded. "No can do McGiggles Sissy-pants," I grimaced, "I have a date tonight that precludes me from me being overly bruised; again." I was heading for the door, leading the 'new hires' out of Katrina's office. "I know you like laugh at death, Cáel," Dora snickered, "but I'm not sure the rictus of death counts." "I've got that covered, Dora," I actually brushed up against Buffy. "I'm having a laugh track installed in my urn." "Who says they'll ever find your body?" Buffy moved rapidly at my side. "Whoa; cannibalism. Where I come from, normally the guy eats the girl," I joked. "With you, Buffy, I'm never quite certain of our gender roles. I'm still terrified of letting you snuggle up from behind." "I hate you," Buffy growled. She wasn't upset. Her eyes were dancing with laughter. "What are you going to do when he is relocated?" Fabiola murdered the mood. "Blame you," Buffy glared at Fabiola. "I'm so scared," Fabiola mocked Buffy. "Fabiola, don't be like that," I moped. "You have such full, plump lips that clearly know how to take hold of a problem and work it through. Your thighs are the product of diligent effort on your part and I'm sure that when you grapple with an opponent, no one can break that fearful hold." "I'm sure anything your hands touch, you don't release until you've milked every ounce of life out of your target. You are truly a complete woman," I concluded. The elevator doors opened and we flooded out. Oneida was waiting for me. Buffy began laughing so hard she couldn't keep up. "What is it?" Oneida looked to Buffy. "That is the most obtuse description of fellatio, fucking and a hand job I've ever heard," Buffy wheezed. "Fabiola, he called you a whore and you can never prove it." Okay, I didn't call her a whore; money was never mentioned. Oneida looked distressed. "Oneida, Fabiola insinuated that Cáel would be relocated soon," Daphne came to the rescue. I still had something to take care of. "I knew I forgot something," I realized. "Buffy, can you hold my jacket?" I handed it to her. She examined it then dropped it to the ground. I shrugged then kept stripping. "Cáel?" Oneida worried. "I don't have my biking clothes on," I pointed out. "We can't go biking unless I'm dressed in my biking clothes." Was Oneida still upset about me stripping in public? No. She was about to spend time with me because she mistakenly perceived me to be a good guy. My bike trip with Oneida to a neutral halfway point proved that while Oneida was in good shape, she wasn't a cyclist. Cycling emphasized an unusual muscle sequence, so if you don't cycle much, it shows. I stuck close to her. Not only did it endear me to Oneida, it kept our two shadows at a safe distance so they didn't impinge on their princess's joyful mood. I sent Oneida on her way, got home and immediately started making adjustments to my night's plans. First I had to deal with Libra. I got into an argument with her. I insisted she should wear only jeans, a t-shirt with no bra, and comfortable shoes. Libra was furious. She wanted to go clubbing and look hot; preferably enticing some guys to make me jealous. She certainly wasn't going to come giftwrapped for an easy screw. She wasn't that kind of girl. She didn't like that I was that kind of guy. I insisted that I was the kind of guy who was fascinated with her. I was also happy that Brooke had gotten us back together; you know Brooke, the girl I had fucked to help her get over Felix then refused to sleep with so I could be with Libra. I was blistered and lambasted. I also got my way. I also got to see Libra embrace the ogling her attire earned her in my working class neighborhood as we walked around and talked. "Everyone is staring at my breasts," Libra whispered to me after a bit. She wanted to make me think she was unhappy while her nipples were excited and she was relishing the turning heads. Brooke was better looking, in my opinion, but Libra was definitely a girl who shouldn't walk around without a bra. Her breast are really shapely, large and firm, possibly her best attribute. We were hanging around an authentic Italian pizza joint, Libra against the wall, face to face with me. Without warning, I slipped my hand down, popped her jeans button open and unzipped her pants. "Cáel!" she hissed. Yum, Libra had gone panty-less as well. "Cáel," she repeated. Libra tried to stop my fingers from exploring. She was hampered by her desire to not make a scene while I was insistent. Nice sexy jeans are not only nice and sexy, they hug the hips. This meant I could peel the front of her pants open and work two fingers past her pubic hair to her puffy lips. "Stop," she whimpered. I didn't. I slipped a finger between her labia and she was moist and steamy. I wiggled a finger inside with no effort. "No one will see us," I murmured into Libra's ear. I wiggled my finger in deeper. "You are horrible," she moaned quietly. Her hands started out on my shoulders. A few seconds later, she migrated her arms down. I wasn't positive where she was going with that until she hooked her thumbs into her pants and slid them farther down. "Get it over with," she mumbled. She followed that up with tender kisses to my neck. Her moving her pants down allowed me to move a second finger in. All of that was a prelude. With my two slick fingers, I searched up for her clitoris. She (a clit is definitely a 'she') was hungering for my contact and offered up her tenderness to my attention. Libra's hand began clawing my abdomen through my shirt. Her nasal breathing was becoming ragged, so I eased off on the tempo my stimulation. I wasn't going to bring Libra to an embarrassing public display of sexual release. It took her a few seconds to figure out I wasn't teasing her, but shielding her from an uncontrolled release. "You are mean," her eyes blazed with lust as I sucked my fingers clean of her vaginal secretions. "Kiss me, or I swear to God I'm going to take you on one of these tables," I referred to the small tables the pizza parlor had for diners. Now Libra looked sultry and in charge. She rubbed her hips against my erection, appeared to contemplate her options and deigned to give me a kiss. It was barely a French kiss. Just enough to remind me I had taken advantage of her person and was being punished with pleasure. The box with the pizza slices barely made the toss to the sofa as Libra and I grappled with one another, yanking off our clothes and staggered to my bedroom. "You are going to fuck me so good for all the hell you've put me through," Libra erotically demanded. Ma'am, yes Ma'am. Prepared to do my duty, Ma'am. I decided to do something new for Libra. Trust me, you develop a sense for what sexual deviancies your sex partner has broached. This helps you figure out what they'd like to explore. That leads you to worrying about your partner's sexual history, but is a story for another time. "Hey!" Libra squawked as I handcuffed her left wrist. I wasn't done. With her right wrist beside her left, I looped the chain around a bar in the headboard and snared her other limb. "Motherfu;” she got out before I smothered her with a lip-lock. She put her teeth on my tongue then decided not to chew it off. I broke off the kiss. "Now you are going to do whatever I want you to," I gloated. "Scream, the cops come and you end up splashed all over the society page." Most likely a lie. "I'll never," she snarled as I rammed my dick in to the hilt. "Ah; you bastard," she grunted. Now I picked up my pace. Except having her hands bound, Libra was clearly getting into it. Right before climax, I eased off. Libra whined piteously. "Not yet," I murmured. When I repositioned her in doggy-style, my cock got back to work. This time, I alternated seriously deep cock-thrusts (not pounding) with spanking. Libra went wild; one of her most intense orgasms yet. Libra should have realized two things: my neighbors knew by now and the screams my bedmates generated, and Libra herself was truly an Angelic choir of erotic gratitude. "That; that; that was intense," Libra gasped. She was all sweat and electric; tired yet begging for more. "It gets better," I promised her as I freed her up. Given two minutes to rebound, I rolled over onto my back at her side. The cuffs were handed over and I placed my hands over my head. Libra's countenance was an explosion of thermal desire and numerous unanticipated opportunities. She straddled me, strung me up then; left. Huh? Libra didn't go far. She noticed my 'goodie' box which I had left nonchalantly available when we first tumbled in. What she pulled out didn't make me jump for joy; an ostrich feather, lube and a body wand (imagine a small mace, except the head is actually a vibrating ball). "So, you've done this before?" I questioned. "There is a ball-gag in there. Shut-up, behave, or I'll put it on you," Libra gave me a saucy threat. I nodded. Libra settled in beside me, worked the wand controls then rolled it along my stomach. "To answer your question; no, I've never used anything like this before, but I've wanted to. Now I have a delectable, helpless male with tons of stamina laid out before me." "This is going to be so much fun," she squealed with delight. "Maybe I should call Brooke?" She wasn't soliciting my opinion, just thinking aloud. She called Brooke who begged Libra for the chance to come over and help out. Libra promised Brooke could 'next time'. After that came the feather tickles, lubing up my cock, a hand job and finally using the wand on my cockhead until she shattered my resolve and I ejaculated. Libra licked all my creamy cum up, keeping eye contact through most of the process. For thirty seconds she left me with the sneaking suspicion she was going for round two. She freed me, gave me a good series of kisses then dropped down to bring my penis back to attention. That accomplish, Libra rolled my condom on, mounted me and slowly squirmed down my rod while mesmerizing me with her eyes. "Oh," she purred, "you are so, so bad." I sat up so that I was eye-level with her chin. Libra laid her forearms languidly over my shoulders, while mine deftly cupped each ass. "Does this mean you are breaking up with me?" I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. Libra made that squichy-angry play face. I was teasing and she knew I was teasing. "Do I have to hand-cuff you again?" Libra snickered. I slipped my right hand farther back and down. Using the liberal amount of lube Libra had lavished on my penis, I slicked up my forefinger and picked her sphincter. Libra gave a quick intake of breath. "For the sake of your backside, that might be wise," I teased right back. Libra pouted. "Are going to ream my poor, abused Henie?" she moped deceptively. Rule One plus the addendum; make the girl happy. If you make the girl happy, she'll figure out what makes you happy and do it for you. I lifted Libra up until my cock flopped out of her. It didn't take her two seconds. Her hand found my cock, pointed it up and steered it into her asshole with zero need for encouragement. "I can't believe you are making me do this," she groaned as her sphincter parted and my glans slipped in. I wasn't rushing things. I certainly wasn't coercing Lira in anyway either. She certainly relished my upper body strength that allowed me to match her pace in penetrating her. Once Libra was fully impaled, I rocked us over so that she lay on her back with her knees touching her breasts. A casual, relaxed screw followed. Yes, I could have pounded Libra and she would have loved it, except she was here for more than a series of orgasms. She wanted some kind of confirmation there was an 'us'. She hadn't wanted a relationship when we first met, or even after our first fuck. I was a hook-up; nothing more. The post-Felix episode with Brooke had changed that. I was far from acceptable, but more than a random fuck. Our status had become an enigma to her thus my approach with the soft anal fuck. I could certainly be a late night booty call, salvaging a bad night and making it good. This was a 'take him out for a weekend as a friend' change of events. I was still not in the clubhouse. Thirty minutes in bedroom while 'changing to go down to the pool with her other friends' they'd all know why she'd brought me along. Had Libra forgotten I was a Pound Puppy of the worst sort? Yes, but I felt no desire to remind her. We'd revisit the issue during that first weekend; guaranteed. Libra kept up a quiet bit of banter for a few minutes. Her words were meaningless. Her tonal quality was what I was paying attention to. I kept up a conversation which I would never recall. It is an art form; coherent babbling. My partner's words faded away into groans and grunts. "Ready?" I rumbled my hunger for her wantonness. Libra nodded once, hesitated then nodded several times vigorous

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..

Amb l'edat arriba la maduresa i les ganes de calmar la tempesta. La banda de Buffalo

Cáel gets an offer that is too good to be true.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..“People who forget their past are doomed to be blind-sided by it.”MondayI couldn't help but notice the similarity between myself and the other four new hires. We were all clean cut men, fresh out of college, fit and masculine. The 'men' part of the equation made sense. Havenstone Commercial Investments had come out of a long legal proceeding over their accused discriminatory policies.An undisclosed settlement had been reached plus they agreed to implement this new program to hire more men. For me that meant an employment opportunity with a Fortune 500 company despite my rather underwhelming collegiate career. Don't get me wrong; I had good grades. I also went to a college virtually no one had ever heard of, Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire.With me was Chinese-American Brian Fung from Harvard, blue blood Trent Grant from Carnegie-Melon, African-American Khalid Adzharia from MIT and Salvadoran-American Felix Melena from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. For starters, they all had far better academic pedigrees them me, nicer toys, and better looking suits.The second they found out where I was from, I was dropped out of their conversation. They were bragging about their awards and accomplishments, their families and where they vacationed, professors who knew them on a first name basis and when they planned to get their master's degrees. Given time to take in our circumstances without the distraction of being part of their little club, something occurred to me.We were all freaking gorgeous. I don't mean cultured, handsome, or attractive to the opposite sex. I meant every one of us would be hit on in a nightclub in under five minutes unless we had a significant other hanging all over us. I was getting a sinking suspicion about what Havenstone considered 'crucial' for job performance and it didn't have anything to do with what alumni we were now part of.Here I was with my Father's dark good looks, my genetics an ancient blend of Bulgarian and Turkish with a recent addition of Irish Gaelic. My eyes, the legacy of my Mom, were a deep emerald green. The broad shoulders, narrow waist and powerful arms and legs were part heritage with a serious application of physical activity. I exercised constantly, swam whenever I could and cycling was my religion; the tougher the terrain, the better.Better yet, the brainiacs around me hadn't seemed to figure that out yet. Maybe they thought I was a 'legacy' hire, I had a relative on the inside. Nope. Mom died when I was seven and my Dad worked for Illinois Power and Light as a line runner. His sister, Aunt Stella, was a crab fisherwoman in Maryland and unmarried.A series of off-handed comments in the interview process suddenly came back to haunt me. I'd been asked about who I was close to, both presently and back in college. They wanted to know about my 'moral character'. Fuck it all, I'd filled out a dating survey! I'd never used a matchmaking service, but I bet if I logged on to E-Harmony, I'd recognize the questions.The door to the conference room opened and seven women entered. Ms. Tessa Carmichael had handled the interview process. Umami Lhasa was her Hindi assistant and all-around encyclopedia of all things Havenstone. The other five were unknown to me and, I had a feeling, unknown to my fellow new hires. We all stood. The other four smiled. I smiled too, but felt cautious."Gentlemen, it is time to begin. Today we begin your internship process and I'd;” Tessa got out before Fung interrupted."I was given the impression we were guaranteed employment, Ms. Carmichael," he spoke in a commanding voice. How stupid was this guy?"Academia is a sheltered environment, Mr. Fung. Havenstone is very much part of the real, visceral world and you can hardly expect to gain a six-figure salary with all the benefits based on your ability to impress men who have never created an iota of wealth in their lives," Tessa smiled. I hoped she eventually give it back to the orca she'd swiped it from."I was entertaining offers from several other corporations as well," Trent added his voice. "We were guaranteed employment. Our contracts state so." He seemed proud of his ability to read. Trent should have boned up on reading between the lines."Well, if you two wish to sign 'Termination of Employment' papers," Tessa sounded disappointed, "we will conceded to your wishes."At this point, the guys with a promising futures should have bailed. I didn't have options unless you considered 'do you want fries with that' to be a back-up plan. I was amazed the other four didn't see it."What we really want is a clarification of what this internship process entails," Khalid intervened.Tessa's smile became all happy bunnies again."Very well," she appeared pleased, "let's start by introducing your mentors. Mr. Fung, Ms. Julian Jameson has chosen you. She is our Senior VP in charge of Acquisitions, something you excelled in, I recall." Fung looked pleased. Julian was a foxy red-head somewhere in her mid-thirties."Mr. Grant, you have been selected by Olympia Shore, head of our Financial Investigative unit." Greying hair yet she looked like she ran marathoners down on a regular basis; she was tall, fit and svelte. "I understand you showed a talent for forensic accounting," Tessa continued. "Mr. Adzharia, you have been chosen by Ms. Phalli Chandra VP of International Finance."Where Khalid was patently African-American, his mentor was African, most likely central African, like Congo, or Cameroon. She was in her early thirties and sculpted in a way that made me think I wouldn't mind wrestling her even though I wasn't sure who would win. "You have an excellent grasp of linguistics as I recall.""Mr. Melena, Ms. Tia Pharos VP of Business Management has chosen to take you on." My bet she was Lebanese, or Palestinian, more Sematic than Aramaic. Still, her hair was thick, wavy and long, all the women seemed to go for the 'long hair' look for that matter. She was also the shortest mentor, perhaps one meter; seventy."You have all around high marks in your education. We think you will be a perfect fit." He smiled as did Tia. I thought they were smiling for different reasons. Maybe that was paranoia. "Mr. Nyilas," that was me; Cáel Nyilas, "you have been selected by Ms. Katrina Love, VP of Executive Services."I could hear the 'huffs' of my compatriots. Executive Services were basically gophers for the top tier of the corporation. ES was not the fast track to success. They got the limos and laundry for those who were. On the plus side, Katrina was a voluptuous blonde perhaps forty years of age, hitting all my key sexual triggers; basically, a conscious, breathing female. I didn't have low standards, I was a sexual omnivore.Given the chance I'd seduce every woman I came across, though not here, not today.After a short series of introductions, we split up to go to our various offices. It turned out that the mentor/internship relationship meant I would be working at her side, literally. I'd have a spot in her personal office for my work station, I would follow her to meetings and be on call 24/7 to assist her in all departmental duties."Thank you for the opportunity," I said when she finally gave me the impression I could speak."Aren't you disappointed you didn't get one of the plumb assignments; banking, or asset management?" she inquired while studying me. The gentle hum of the elevator was the only other sound."Hell, no," I blurted out then blushed. Katrina arched an eyebrow. "I mean, I think this is a great way to know the company. We get to go everywhere.""I like your enthusiasm," she commented. I couldn't tell if it was a positive thing. Beyond that, she remained non-communicative until we made it to her ornate, spacious personal office.Six young ladies followed us into the room, with the last one shutting the door."Ladies, this is our latest hire; Cáel Nyilas," Katrina began. "He's from some college in New Hampshire and, like the rest of you new hires, will be expected be working closely with me and each other."Did I mention they were all hot? I was familiar with some of the looks I was getting, too. Once, in high school, I had asked out the Class president who happened to be rich, pretty and smart. Her boyfriend had cheated on her so I thought I had a chance. I was a working class nobody and the look she gave me hurt as much as her words."Never in a million years," she mocked loudly. I was an insect, a bug and way beneath her notice. That was the look I was getting from these girls. Four years later, my acne was gone, I'd filled out nicely and physically I had gone from caterpillar to butterfly. That led to the other half of the vibes aimed my way. It was 'he's delicious' as one of my girlfriends put it."Daphne Pile, Dora Cartagena, Fabiola Dobrani, Paula Wadena, Violet Maza, and Theresa 'Tigger' Castro," Katrina made rapid-fire introductions. "Now that we all know each other, time to start filling all the orders in our cue. Until Cáel figures out what is where, who wants to ride herd on him?" I had mistakenly believed I would be working with Katrina.No one leapt at the opportunity."I'll do it," Fabiola Dobrani spoke up. She tried to sound upbeat for Katrina. They filed out of the office, each woman heading off in different directions, while I went to my tiny desk."What are you doing?" Fabiola sounded annoyed."I need something from my desk and to go to the bathroom," I informed her. She sighed in exasperation. I quickly retrieved a handful of rubber bands then raced to Fabiola. She pointed me at the closest bathroom; which was Katrina's personal one. In I went then I locked the door. My pants and underwear came off. I expediently made a rubber band chain then looped it around my hips and pinned my hard-on pointed up.That had become a serious problem when dealing with all these attractive women and I didn't need the distraction. Once dressed, I quick-stepped it to Fabiola who was tapping her foot."Let's go," she snapped. "We are working with Buffy today. We go with her and do what she tells us to do. Got it?""Buffy is in charge, I have a basic command of the English language," I replied. Fabiola shot me an evil look. "What? Do I look like a five year old, or are you normally this rude?""I'm not being rude to you," the women with a Mediterranean cast to her features reposed. "You've put us behind the other ladies. In case you haven't figured it out, that's a bad thing on our first day.""Am I to believe this is your first day?" I smirked. We stopped by another woman's desk. Did I mention that this corporation must raid beauty pageants for their staff? Buffy was a medium height brunette with long hair and a perfectly shaped oval face. Her eyes were the lightest shade of brown I'd ever seen, almost golden."I'm Buffy Dubois," she stood and extended her hand. I had a neural misfire. I took her offered hand, leaned down and kissed it. Whoops."Cáel Nyilas, Ms. Dubois," I gulped. Buffy weighed my gesture."Nice name," she grinned. "Call me Buffy. We go on a first name basis here.""Our first assignment for the day is to go to 1802 Exeter Tower and prepare the suite for the CFO at our San Francisco office coming in for one week," she informed us. I had no idea where Exeter Tower was and what any of this had to do with my Business degree. I accepted that a fat paycheck was a fat paycheck, so I put my confusion on the back burner.There was an amusing bit of posturing about who got to drive the company car down to the Exeter. Fabiola made a production of taking the keys and making me sit in the back, Buffy didn't want to drive."You aren't much of a man's man, are you?" Fabiola mocked me.I waited a second for Buffy to say something, considering that bordered on harassment. Fabiola snickered at me while Buffy looked out the window, bored."Was that supposed to mean something to me?" I replied smoothly. "I don't know you, you obviously don't know me, and your assessment of my gender potential is ridiculous.""Come on, 'New Hire', you didn't even go to a real school," Fabiola spat back."That's enough," Buffy coughed. Fabiola shot me a dirty look. I elected to not be childish, looking out the window instead. Driving the car turned out to be more of a disadvantage than the gem Fab thought it would be. Fabiola had to park the car while Buffy and I went up.The Exeter suite turned out to be a fully furnished apartment. The trick was turning the normal accoutrements into the specifics the client demanded. I didn't have experience with interior design. I couldn't say I was demeaned, being reduced to a glorified furniture mover. If Buffy was impressed by my ability to move chairs about, she hid it well.She even left me to my own devices while she went to the bedroom. I double checked the image she'd downloaded to the cellphone to make sure everything was where they wanted."Cáel, I need you back here," Buffy called out. Back I went, it wasn't like I had a choice. "We need to make sure the Feng Shui of the room is impeccable," she ordered."Yes, Ma'am; Buffy," I nodded. "Now let's assume for a second I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about and go from there.""For now," she chuckled, "it means moving the bed where I tell you to." As I moved to the far side of the king-sized bed, contemplating the crushing weight of my student loans, I noticed Buffy had made a wardrobe adjustment.That was a kind way to say she had unbuttoned her blouse to her naval and her pale pink, lacy half-bra was clearly visible. I also saw the incisor of some predator hung from a silver chain around her neck. As she leaned forward, it swayed, playing ping pong between her boobs. I was carefully attentive to her instructions and even managed to ask a few questions like 'what is Feng Shui?'"It is the art of focusing energy upon positive and negative lines so that you promote, or disrupt, the harmony of an area and its occupants," she informed me. She back-flopped down on the bed in one of the least obfuscated suggestions of 'come get me' I'd ever seen. I stayed well away, sensing a trap."It's jaguar," Buffy tilted her head back and leered at me. Her shirt was wide open, her bountiful mounds jiggling slightly and her eyes were inviting. She was referring to the tooth pendant that was nestled between her breasts. I backed up toward the window."I'm sure there is a story behind that," I tried to wiggle some more breathing room from my collar."There is," she rolled over, her goodies still on display. "I shot it with my bow, skinned it and pulled the tooth from its skull." How sweet and informative."I'm glad I'm across the room then," I grinned back. "I'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding between you and I." Now she placed herself on all fours and stalked across the bed toward me."I don't think you are very interested in me," she pouted. Now I was mentally mapping out the time and distance involved in me getting past her and exiting this career-killer."You are my boss," I exclaimed as I started edging around the room. "I imagine you are very interesting, but I'm not the kind of guy who makes advances on every beautiful woman he meets." That was a total lie. I had the bad habit of making advances on ABSOLUTELY every beautiful woman I met."Where is everybody?" Fabiola announced after she waltzed into the room. Forget an Oscar, she wouldn't even get a Razzie from me for that patently false performance. Buffy huffed, rolled her eyes and shifted to the edge of the bed. She fixed her blouse properly then shot a witherin