Podcasts about grunting

Connor asks who the next Creighton HONK to get injured will be after learning of Jacob Padilla's injury, and what to expect on the day we bring GRUNTING back.

Inside the warped female brain regarding grunting at the gym

The students begin the next chapter; sex positions 101.Based on the work of firebird68. listen to the Podcast on Steamy Stories. “Okay, everyone open your textbooks to chapter three, please.” Miss Banks instructed, waiting as the students all pulled out their books and flipped to the page. “As you all can see, this chapter will be covering sexual positions. A few examples include missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style. Today, we'll be going through a few various positions, and I'll be having you demonstrate them in pairs. Does anyone want to go first?”Sunny's hand shot into the air and she waved it around, eagerly.“I'll go first, Miss Banks!” she offered.“Okay, Sunny.” Miss Banks waved her up. “David, why don't you join her. Both of you come to the front.”Sunny and David made their way to the front of the room and Miss Banks pulled out a blanket, spreading out on the ground.“I'll have you two demonstrate the cowgirl position. Not to be confused with reverse cowgirl, standard cowgirl features the female facing her partner. The two of you may begin.”Sunny smiled at David and pulled him over to the blanket.“Take off your pants, David.” She urged. “And then lay down.”Undoing his pants, David dropped them and stepped out of the legs, yanking his shoes through. Sunny was already kneeling on the blanket and she excitedly patted the spot where she wanted him to lay down. Crouching down, David rolled onto his back and stretched out, his erection already standing straight up in the air. As soon as he was ready, Sunny bent down and engulfed his cock in her mouth. She eagerly slurped down his whole length, taking all of him into her throat. Extending her tongue to lap at his balls, she swirled her soft, pink appendage around on his sack, making him moan.“Class, come gather around so that you can all get a better view.” Miss Banks said.The students all rose from their seats and moved to the front, forming a loose semi-circle around the two students on the ground before them. Not pausing her blowjob, Sunny pulled back to the tip, sucking on his head firmly and inhaling through her nose. Glancing up at David's pleasured face, she gently took one of his hands and brought it to her head. Taking the hint, David placed both of his hands on the back of her long, blonde hair and began to guide her up and down on his dick.Sunny let him take over, pushing and pulling her head to his heart's content, directing the pace and depth of her blowjob. Of course, she didn't need any help to give him a stellar blowjob, but it gave her a thrill to let herself give over control and simply have her mouth used for his pleasure. David gradually became more and more eager. His grip on her tightened and he began to thrust up into her mouth, bumping his crotch into her nose. Having a lot of experience with oral, Sunny took it all in stride. She gagged very sparsely and let her muscles go limp, allowing him to use her like a fleshlight.Not wanting him to finish too quickly, Sunny tapped on his side, signaling for him to let go, and pulled off of him, smiling with saliva covering her chin. Rolling over, she shimmied her stockings and panties down over her long legs and kicked them off. With her wet pussy uncovered, she quickly jumped over to straddle David, who moaned as her hot slit pressed into his shaft. Biting on one of her fingers, Sunny began to grind her lips over his hardon, her juices and spit combining to form a slick mess between them. Raising herself up, she reached down and lifted his cock and guided the tip to her pussy, teasing it against her entrance.His testosterone pumping, David's hands came up to Sunny's wide hips and tightened, surprising her. A second later, she shrieked as he pulled her down, hard, forcing her to bottom out on his cock. David's seven inches were certainly not the largest Sunny had ever taken, but being a cockslut like she was, she loved dicks of all shapes and sizes. That coupled with the sudden shock of being penetrated, and her eyes were rolling back, and she was biting her lower lip as his rock-hard length spread her hole open.Moaning and letting herself adjust to the instantaneous insertion, Sunny threw her long, blonde hair back and began to bounce on David's cock. Her hands found their way up to her chest and she groped her breasts through her shirt, her large bust overflowing her fingers. Tossing back her head to cry out freely, her speed increased, and she moved up and down with more urgency. David's hands gathered up her skirt and pushed it up to her waist, bunching it out of the way so that he could get a clear view of their connection and his cock disappearing into the beautiful blonde.Shifting her hips to adjust the angle of his penis inside of her, Sunny whimpered as his cock slid across her G-spot. Each time that she would come down on him, his tip would poke against her sensitive internal spot, sending electricity through her body. It wasn't long before she was shaking and quivering, right on the cusp of her climax. Another few seconds of slamming her rear down on him, and she went over the edge.Sunny's orgasm was visible and vocal. Her whole body quaked and shook, and she shrieked. Her hands dug into her boobs, squeezing and kneading them tightly. David groaned, feeling her pussy clamp down around him, her muscles spasming and fluttering. Although her timing was off due to the intense sensations, Sunny kept riding him, yipping each time he contacted her G-spot, driving her peak higher and higher.Coming down, panting and her legs now tired, Sunny stopped bouncing and switched to a twerking technique. Her juicy ass shook and jiggled as she worked her hips back and forth, grinding on David's crotch. With this technique and angle, the effect on her G-spot was even more pronounced, and Sunny groaned and gasped with each movement. Even though she had just cum, she could already sense herself climbing the hill towards a second climax.As Sunny's muscles became increasingly worn out from the constant exercise, her speed slowed down, incrementally. Feeling the slower pace and full of energy himself, David decided to take things into his own hands. Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around Sunny's torso, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her down until her chest was flat against his. Letting out a soft 'oof' as her large breasts squished between them, she relaxed and let him take charge.Holding Sunny tight to his body, David began to thrust up into her. His pelvis powered up off the ground, driving his hard cock into her depths over and over. Sunny gasped into his shoulder, her body limp and helpless as he pinned her against him. He cunt was dripping, and she was incredibly close to another climax. Every stroke felt so good, but there was just something more that she wanted. Something a little extra that would throw her right over the edge. Shifting her head, she looked up at her teacher.“M-Miss Banks…” she panted. “C…Can you spank me? Please…slap my butt. Just once. Please!”Concealing her smile and maintaining a mask of tranquility, Miss Banks walked over, her heels clacking until she reached the blanket. Bending over, her posture accentuating her curvaceous body, she drew back her hand and delivered a firm smack to Sunny's jiggling ass. Sunny cried out and moaned.“Again!” she gasped. “Please!”The second smack sent her over the edge. She screamed and closed her eyes, shaking with her climax. Her mind went blank momentarily and she forgot where she was, until she caught a breath and her eyes rolled back down from in her skull. Sunny's walls clenching down on him was the final straw that broke the camel's back for David. Grunting and tightening his grip on the blonde, he slammed himself to the base and opened the floodgates.Feeling the first hot stream splash inside her, Sunny pressed herself firmly against David's crotch, not even a millimeter separating their pelvises. She bit her lip and shivered, the sensation of being stuffed with steamy boy cum one of her favorites in the entire world. She kept herself pressed into him throughout the duration of their collective orgasm, her internal muscles milking him further into her tight, hot depths.Both of them heaving and basking in the afterglow of their finale, David finally released her from his embrace. Catching her breath for a bit, Sunny raised her hips, whimpering as his softening length slid out of her hole. A stream of semen followed and dripped past her lips onto his waning erection. Licking her lips, Sunny scooted down David's body and breathed in the potent, masculine scent of his arousal. Extending her tongue, she went to work cleaning him up. She licked all along his cock, swallowing down every drop of his cum that had escaped her. Wrapping her lips around him, she slurped down his soft penis, sucking every last bit of their combined juices until he was bare of any remnants of their tryst.Uncrossing her arms, Miss Banks gave a clap, encouraging the other students to join her. They all gave the two of them a round of applause for their performance, making Sunny smile and David blush now that he was in his post-nut clarity. Handing a clean towel from her stock to Sunny, Miss Banks raised an eyebrow.“Very well done!” she praised. “Both of you did excellent. Great start from you Sunny. Your pelvic motions are superb when you're on top and you even cleaned up afterwards. And, David, the way you took control when she got worn out was just beautiful. I'm very impressed by your work. You should both be proud. There is always room to improve, but I think I speak for the whole class when I say that that was a hot performance. The two of you can get cleaned up off to the side while we get our next pair up here. Hum…let's see. Andrea, let's have you and…Chris. You two will be demonstrating the doggy style position.”Andrea's mood soured as she heard that last sentence. Doggy style was the last position she had hoped for. She would have much more preferred some simple missionary or maybe some spooning. Something sensual and evocative of a connection. Hell, even cowgirl would have been better. But doggy style? She hated doggy style. It was so…degrading! Even just the name was demeaning. Doggy style?! What girl wants to be bent over like some animal and rutted as though she were just a bitch. She was way above doing something as debasing as that!Still, not willing to draw the ire of her teacher, Andrea reluctantly stalked out into the center of the blanket and dropped to her hands and knees. After waiting for a minute, she looked back over her shoulder and realized that Miss Banks was standing next to a pants-less Chris, expectantly. Her teacher stared her down with crossed arms and a tapping toe.“Aren't you forgetting something, Miss Andrea?” she demanded.Andrea looked back, confused and unsure what she was talking about. Sighing, Miss Banks lifted a finger and traced the outline of her immaculate, red lips before pointing to Chris's erect penis. Realization dawned on Andrea and her mood darkened even further as she remembered that she was expected to prepare Chris to fuck her.She spun around on her knees and Chris stepped up to her, his cock bobbing and striking her face, making her flinch. Tentatively taking his dick in her tiny hand, Andrea pulled it down to where her mouth could reach it and she wrapped her lips around it. Still pathetic at performing oral, Andrea was a far stretch from what Sunny had accomplished. Fuming at being made to kneel before Chris like some servant, Andrea bobbed her head, rigidly and in an uninspired manner. Her hand lightly rubbed up and down his remaining shaft as she had been chastised neglecting for in her first test, but it was without vigor or skill to speak of.Chris didn't care, though. He could tell that the stuck-up Andrea was hating this, and it made it all the sweeter to feel her mouth around him. He knew that no matter how pitiful her blowjob was, her pussy would be all his momentarily. Miss Banks, however, was not amused. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. She was about to open up and berate Andrea's performance, but Chris acted first. Placing his palm on Andrea's forehead, he pushed her away and spun her around all in one move, pushing her down until she fell to her elbows.“That's enough of that.” Chris sighed, dropping to a knee behind her.Reaching beneath her skirt, he felt around her waist in a vague attempt to locate the hem of her undergarments. Andrea scowled as she felt him groping and feeling up her butt, but she bit back her anger. A thought coming to him, Chris faked frustration at not being able to locate the top of her stockings. Instead, his fingers grasped the fabric covering her crotch and, with a quick flick of his wrists, he tore the thin material, creating a large hole. Andrea gasped, indignantly, as her stocking were ruined by the brute behind her. She whirled her head around to glare at him over her shoulder, but a look from Miss Banks kept her quiet.Chuckling to himself, Chris pulled her tiny panties to the side and slid his finger over her slit. To his further amusement, she was already moist down there. Despite her hatred of this treatment, she couldn't hide what her body was saying, and it was saying that she liked it. Probing into her with his finger, Chris smirked when he heard her gasp, confirming his suspicions.That was all the invitation he needed. Lining up his cock, he gave a few teasing prods at her lips. On the fourth poke, he kept going and sank his thick cock into her depths. Andrea yipped as he entered her, her tight walls spreading out around him. Inch after inch pushed into her, splitting her wide and making her groan. She had only ever experimented with her fingers and some assorted household items in the past. Chris was far, far bigger than any of those, and she felt it. She couldn't see him, being in the humiliating position that she was in, but he felt positively enormous in her tight, little cunt. Every time she thought he had given her everything he had to give, he would push another inch past her lips, making her yelp.Finally, Andrea felt his tip connect against her cervix and his groin press against her butt, signaling that he was fully inside of her. Andrea felt absolutely stuffed. She was a tiny girl at just five feet tall, and Chris had a truly big dick. She whimpered as he shifted around in her and pulled back, his thick length dragging along her slippery walls until just his bulbous head, which still felt large, was left in her. A cry left her lips as he drove back in, a bit speedier this time, until he smacked into the back of her pussy somewhere deep inside of her.Andrea could feel herself getting wetter and wetter, despite her best efforts not to. Her cheeks flushed with shame at being put in this disgraceful, misogynistic position. Who in their right mind like being fucked like a dog? It's so degrading! Well, Andrea found out that apparently her body like it, because she was drenched from the sensation of Chris's cock sliding in and out of her. Within minutes, she was moaning like a kitten in heat.She yelped as Chris's hand wrapped itself in her hair, yanking her head backwards. How dare he! She wasn't some piece of meat to treat however he wanted! Who did he think he was, pulling her hair like some toy for him to do as he pleased?! That was what the rational part of her mind was thinking. The lustful part, however, was currently overriding any rational thought, and she moaned and shrieked as he used the leverage gained from grabbing her hair to slam into her harder. Shuddering, she slipped over the edge and came.This orgasm was far more intense than any she had achieved through solo masturbation. Her eyes rolled back, and she screamed loudly. Her arms went limp and she would have fallen forward, if not for the handful of hair that Chris had, holding her up by her brown locks. Andrea's entire body shook and trembled, her cunt clenching and convulsing as Chris kept pounding into her, not giving her any respite during her mind-shattering climax. By the end of it, the proud and haughty Andrea was reduced to a drenched, drooling mess.Even as her climax was winding down, Chris began to speed up. Her tight hole felt magnificent around him, especially when she was clenching down during orgasm. Eager to feel her tighten around him all over again, he grasped her hair more firmly, using it to pull her tiny body into his thrusts. Her lower lips gripped him all the way down to the base, physically encouraging him to drive his penis all the more quickly, which her obliged, groaning in satisfaction when he heard Andrea shriek.Spurred on by Chris's increased movements, Andrea's second orgasm arrived less than a minute after the first one. She gasped and moaned, her eyes crossing and her tongue hanging out of her open mouth, dripping saliva down onto the blanket below. Her internal muscles fluttered and spasmed, tightening up her walls around him. She still couldn't believe that she was cumming from being treated like nothing but a cock sleeve, but by now, her brain was way past processing that kind of moral dilemma. Instead, she was busy being overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure that was assaulting her consciousness and steadily driving her crazy.Pushing Andrea's skirt up onto her back, Chris gazed down at her toned rear. She didn't have nearly as much volume to her butt as someone like Sunny or Samantha, but her ass jiggled deliciously with each collision of their hips. Raising his hand, Chris brought his palm down onto her stocking-clad ass, making a loud slap ring out through the classroom which was joined moments later by Andrea's yelp. Her cheek stinging, Andrea shrieked again as she was spanked for the second time. Unable to vocalize her objections in her current state of mind, she just hung there in Chris's grip as he rained down smack after smack onto her rear, drawing more squeaks and yips from her. It was humiliating! It was degrading! It was…incredible?Andrea had been skeptical at best when Sunny had reached orgasm from being spanked by Miss Banks, but now she understood exactly what had taken place. The combination of Chris's engorged cock pummeling into her along with a series of stinging slaps to her butt was a disgraceful yet somehow intoxicating mix. Each successive smack pushed her closer and closer to that third peak, something she had never expected to be possible with a man. After the sixteenth slap, Chris groaned as he felt Andrea tighten up around him again.When orgasm number three struck Andrea, her mind dissolved into jello. She hung there, limply, nothing but putty in Chris's hands, unable to talk or moan or even breathe as her climax tore through her. This was only heightened when she felt a hot rush of liquid splatter her insides, indicating the arrival of Chris's own orgasm. He gripped her hair and waist tightly, holding her against him as he flooded her insides and painted her pussy white with his goo. Every spasm and clamp down of Andrea's walls only served to milk an additional shot of jizz into her snug cunt, as it was biologically engineered to do. If not for their required birth control pills, she would definitely be knocked up several times over from the sheer amount cum that he spewed into her.Andrea's head slumped down onto the blanket when Chris released her hair, cross-eyed and cum drunk. Sighing contentedly, he let go of her hips and pulled out, leaving her frozen and shuddering in her face-down, ass up position. Accepting the towel from Miss Banks, Chris stood and wiped the collective fluids from his cock, drying himself off. Miss Banks walked around and bent over, peering down at Andrea's blank expression, and glazed over eyes. Pulling the girl's panties back in place to contain the cum before it leaked out and fixing her skirt so that her rear was covered, Miss Banks turned to Chris.“Great job, Chris.” She praised. “Unfortunately, it seems Miss Andrea has been fucked silly. If you wouldn't mind, could you please carry her to the back of the room and help her collect her wits? Thank you.”Chris buckled his pants back up and leaned down, grabbing the tiny teen, and scooping her up in his arms. Cradling her small, limp form, he strode to the back of the room to the couch that was located in the back and sat, holding her until the time when she had her mental faculties about her. The students all watched in shock at the state of the normally arrogant, egotistical Andrea until Miss Banks cleared her throat, getting their attention.“So.” She said, looking from face to face. “Who's next?”To be continued..Based on the work of firebird68 for Literotica

Welcome to Grunting Hour where we grunt our way through discussing the Bears game that happened on Monday night. Bears fandom has lost their minds in recent weeks. The Buffalo Bills and Detroit Lions played the best game of the season. Are the Lions Super Bowl chances done after the Montgomery injury? Can the Bills finally get to and win the Super Bowl? Are the Eagles legit? We also fill out our College Football Playoff bracket and of course shot takes end the episode.

Do you know what really grinds my gears when I go to the gym? What I've noticed is, you know when you watch tennis, and you hear them grunt when they're playing? That is happening at the gym. I don't know if it's just my gym. I don't know if this is also happening at your gym. But can we please stop the grunting? Is there a legitimate physiological reason for you to do that? I don't think there is, I've never felt the urge to grunt. Are you dying? Why are you doing this? It's off putting, it's inappropriate, and it's inconsiderate. Have a thought for those people who are trying to work out around you and shut your mouth. I mean, obviously breathe, that's quite important, but other than that, just shut up. It's very off putting, very annoying. It sounds like that barbell is getting more than a deadlift. Sometimes I listen to it, and I think, oh my goodness, is there going to be a climax at some point?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Mikey Medina shares stories from wrestling, fishing, and his work experience that hit home in the bathroom. He reminds us that a pillowcase is toilet paper, dairy is the enemy, and sometimes a pulsating butthole will get the job done. -- Follow Mikey on Facebook Follow Mikey on Instagram -- Connect: www.privy-cast.com Social and Contact Links: drum.io/privycast Follow Hunter -- To a Freer World and Cleaner Water: Wounded Warrior Project Living Water International -- Music:  Intro and Outro: Music Derived from "Barroom Ballet" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

 Accepting Charity: Part 1A Puritan virgin begins her journey.By RomanCEisdead2. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Charity BeginsCharles was a lowly cordwainer (a cobbler in modern terms). A religious man whose wife died during the plague outbreak in 1665. He lived in an isolated community in Essex, of England; with his only daughter, Charity.Age and failing eyesight meant that he could no longer make much of a living. He worried about his daughter who, having reached the age of 18 was still unmarried. His concerns were mainly because he had maintained her sheltered upbringing, deliberately keeping her away from other people, especially young men. The exception being the Pastor and his wife, who they usually saw on Sundays at the small building that served as a church for the local community.Realizing that he could no longer support both himself and Charity, Charles came up with an idea and at the next church meeting, he approached the Pastor."Pastor Smith, as you know, I'm getting old and my hands are tired and weak. I am unable to do as much as I used to, and my income is poor nowadays. I am a frugal man and I can survive on truly little, but I fear for my daughter Charity. She is a good girl, a hard worker and carries out all the household duties that her Mother used to do. I wonder, would it be asking too much if you could see your way to providing a roof over her head? She could work for her food and lodging, so you would not have to pay her. I'm sure that your wife would welcome such able help around the house.""Well William, I can understand your troubles. How old are you now? Sixty-two?""Sixty-seven Summers, this June Pastor. I feel fortunate that my father taught me to count when I was young, so that I could keep track as the years went by. People said he was foolish to do so, as I only need to count two shoes!" he joked."It's not surprising then that your body is struggling. Not many men make it to your age. As for your daughter, well, I had been thinking that Elizabeth could do with a little help. I had been thinking about a young woman to come in occasionally, but a permanent addition to our household? I will have to think about that. I will let you know next Sunday."William had not mentioned his idea to Charity yet, but he knew that he would have to broach the subject soon, because if the Pastor agreed, she might well not be accompanying him home in seven days' time. He prayed that the Pastor would agree, because he knew that Charity would be safe and looked after under their protection. She would be in a Christian environment, far from the temptations of the young farm hands in the area. But he just could not find the right time to explain his plan.One week later, Charles' prayers were answered when Pastor Smith confirmed his agreement to take Charity as a household servant and to continue her religious education. But now he had to explain to his daughter. She was waiting for him outside."Charity, I am old. I am tired and I can no longer earn enough to keep us both.""Oh! Father!" She was taken by surprise by this sudden admission. She had realized that her father was struggling but had hoped that God would help find a way to improve their situation."Ever since your Mother passed, bless her soul, all I have ever wanted to do is to provide for and protect you. I can no longer do this, so I have made a decision."Charity knew that he was about to tell her something that would change her life and she dreaded what she was going to hear."I have spoken to the Pastor and he has agreed to take you into his home as a servant, to help his wife in her daily duties. He has agreed to continue your religious education. I know that you will work hard and earn your keep. I know that you will be a good girl and make me proud.""Oh, Father! Are you sure? How will you manage without me?""I need very little child and I'm sure that I can earn just enough to feed myself.""But Father,""No "buts" my dear. I am afraid it must happen. I took the liberty of bringing your things with us today."Charity had wondered why her father had brought the sack with him. It was not exceptionally large, she only had three shifts and two changes of clothes and she was already wearing her best set."Ah Charity my dear. Are you ready to accompany us home?" The Pastor stood just behind her, his wife alongside him. She was a mousy, but pleasant woman. Her kindness shone through her dowdy appearance."Come along Charity, there is much to be done and we want to get you settled. Then I can begin to teach you your duties."Charity shed a single tear as she bade her father farewell, but more followed as she walked the short distance to the Pastor's house.It was not a large property. The garden had been mostly given over to the growing of vegetables for the table and fruit. Of course, these were all seasonal, so Elizabeth was adept at preserving produce for use during the Winter months.Once inside, Charity could see that the main room was dominated by the large fireplace. In the center was an oak table with bench seats on opposite sides. The floor was smooth stone and had clearly been scrubbed regularly.The Pastor's wife explained, "This is the room in which we live, eat and pray." She pointed to the steep steps in the corner, which led up to a simple door. "That is where Pastor Smith and I sleep."She turned and pointed, "That is the door that leads to the garden. This other door," again she pointed. "Will be your room." She walked across and unlatched it.The ceiling was low and the room small, made even smaller by the shelves opposite the bed, stacked with jars, bottles and food. Clearly, this was originally purposed as a pantry. Just beyond the bed, there was another, smaller door. Elizabeth opened this and showed Charity the Scullery.This was to be her home from now on.Charity was a handsome looking young woman and both Parson and Mrs. Smith could understand Charles' concerns for her welfare. The Pastor had promised to maintain her religious studies, but his work (both parochial and physical) meant that he could only spare the necessary time at the end of the day. So, while his wife retired up the tiny staircase to bed, He would sit with Charity in prayer and in religious discussion.Of course, as this was the end of the day, and Charity was expected to rise early to clear the fireplace and re-light it, she would ready herself for bed first. As for most people of the time, when a woman retired to bed, she wore her shift, the same one that she had been wearing throughout the day. She had three of the garments, two were worn alternately, with the third, and best, reserved for Sunday alone.It was possibly a week after Charity had started work at the Smith's house that, she was gradually given additional duties, one of which was to "put the fire to bed".The fireplace and fire were arguably the most important part of any household. It provided warmth in cold weather, dried damp clothing hung in front of it and was the source of heat for cooking and baking. Charity understood that being given this responsibility was a true sign of trust.So, on this evening, as Pastor Smith waited patiently, Charity crossed to the fireplace, hefted the large log that had been placed to the side and rolled it onto the embers. The fire had been allowed to burn down, so as not to waste fuel. The sleeper log would not burn easily, but would maintain an element of heat and, in the morning, would enable a rapid re-ignition of the fire.Pastor Smith watched Charity at work. They had a single candle for light to add to the glow of the fire. But when she rolled the log on, that light faded rapidly.Then, as Charity moved back away from the fire, she passed in front of the candle. Momentarily, her body was outlined through the thin linen material of her shift. The Pastor saw this and found it necessary to keep his eyes averted afterwards to prevent himself from staring at the region of her breasts.Distracted, they talked for a while and he asked her if she had any sins to confess."I'm not sure Pastor Smith. Because, perhaps, something that I do is a sin, and yet I do not know it?"The Pastor smiled, "Child, you show wisdom beyond your years, to question yourself in this way. Perhaps we should pray that you receive guidance from above."They had been sitting at the wooden table on a bench facing each other, having moved the candle between them. Charity moved towards the fireplace and knelt in front of the simple wooden cross that hung above it. She began her devotions.Pastor Smith watched her as she silently gave prayer. Now that she was facing away from him, he could allow his eyes to roam more freely, without fear of being espied. Charity's firm straight back showed the well-defined bones of her spine through the shift. As his eyes descended, they reached her posterior. She was sitting on the heels of her feet, with the toes pointing back toward him. For some reason, seeing the soles of her feet in this way he found sinfully arousing. Then, once she had finished her prayer, she began to get to her feet. The material of her shift hugged her buttocks as she rose on one knee and bent to stand.The Pastor cleared his throat and said, "You had better retire to your bed now child. I will sit here for a while longer. You may take the candle with you."The reality was that his erection would have been self-evident if he were to rise from the bench just now.The result of the evening prayer session was that the Pastor went to bed in a needful mood. Elizabeth, his wife, was already in bed, but still awake, awaiting her husband.He undressed quickly by the dim moonlight coming through the single, small window, but left his shirt on, this was what a man wore in bed, in the same way that the women wore their shift.He climbed under the covers, grateful that she had already warmed the bed."Wife, I find myself in need of you this evening," he whispered.Elizabeth was used to her husband's occasional "needs" and was well used to them, even though they had failed to produce a child of their own. After all, it was her wifely duty was it not? She would never admit such a thing to her husband, but, she quite liked it when he "needed" her.Pastor Smith tugged up Elizabeth's shift until it was around her waist. He then pulled up his shirt and moved across. She spread her legs as he climbed between them. Then thrilled as the back of his hand touched her as he presented the head of his penis to her womanhood. He pushed, then repositioned, and pushed again. This time, he gained entry and, slowly, penetrated to his full length.The Pastor was not forceful or rough, but he needed release quickly, so he was soon slapping his hips against his wife's body. His urgency and power were intoxicating to her and she began to experience sensations that were unfamiliar. Then, all too quickly for Elizabeth, he began jerking spasmodically and she knew he was about deposit his issue within her.The Pastor's teaching sessions with Charity continued each evening and the result for him was pretty much the same. She walked around in a thin shift and he was acutely aware that this was all that covered her youthful nakedness. Each time he had to send her to bed before he could rise from his seated position. His erections were powerful, and he had to hold it as he walked, lest the movements against his clothing became too much to bear. Elizabeth was called upon to do her wifely duty each night.Finally, she had to say something, "Husband, please be gentle I beseech you, for I am a little tender from your attentions of late. I know it is my wifely duty and I am keen to satisfy you, and happy to suffer if I must, but I fear you may not be aware."The Pastor understood and felt guilty. He had never spoken to Elizabeth about the actions between a man and his wife before, but his own needs outweighed his sense of propriety for once."I understand my dear. It would be callous of me not to take account of your feelings and thereby cause you discomfiture. But, perhaps there is a way,"Elizabeth was naïve when she married, not knowing anything about what a man and woman did in bed. Her Mother had informed her in only the vaguest of terms what was expected. Her new husband, the Pastor, was fortunately both gentle and understanding."What do you mean?" she asked.He coughed to clear his throat, "Please be assured my dear that I would never dare to mention such indelicacies for fear of shocking you, if it wasn't that I have the need and you are somewhat indisposed."After a pause, he continued, "A man can achieve issue by means other than union.""Oh," was all she could say."I will only explain such things if you are prepared to hear them. If you are not, then please speak out now and we shall never give them voice again.""Husband, I can tell this is difficult for you, but rest assured, as your loyal and loving wife I will do all that is necessary.""Good. And perhaps I should never have doubted that you would respond in that way."They were both lying beneath the bed covers. He pulled up his shirt to his waist and turned on his side towards her. He took hold of her hand and drew it downwards."This may shock you, so please be prepared. I am going to place your hand on my manhood. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with this, you must say so at once."He brought her hand to his penis and wrapped her fingers around it. She gasped and stiffened in shock. It was so big and hard and hot! With his hand clasping hers, there was no way that she could take it away, although after her initial reaction, that was the last thing she wanted to do.Elizabeth felt the blood pulsing through her husband's rod. Fascinated, she hardly even noticed as he began to move her hand up and down the shaft. She learned quickly what he wanted and continued when he took his hand away from hers. She lay on her right side and as she worked, her husband stroked up and down her covered arm. He wished just then that he could be feeling her naked flesh. The thought made him groan and his wife stopped her motions, wondering if she had hurt him."Don't stop. Don't stop!" he gasped. So, she continued.The Pastor's hand fell from her shoulder and alighted on her left breast. This time she gasped, as he squeezed. That shock was overwhelmed by the sudden jerking movements that came from her husband, accompanied by the wet stickiness that suddenly erupted, seemingly everywhere. She knew what this liquid was but was shocked at how much of it there was. Afterwards, she had to feel her way to the washstand to fetch a cloth with which to mop up. By the time she had finished, her husband was gently snoring. Elizabeth lay awake for some time, feeling awed by what had just happened.Charity became an invaluable member of the household within a noticeably short time and Elizabeth found that she was both a quick and able learner, as well as being thorough and hard working. One day, while watching her sweeping the floor, she asked if she was happy."Oh yes, Mistress! I am happy here. I get to see my Father at church each week and he seems to be well. But, well, if I am not being too bold, this has become my home now.""And do you find the Pastor's lessons helpful?""Oh, yes! He is a wise man. He explains passages of the bible that have long confused me. And he makes me think how the teachings therein relate to my own life. I find it wonderful!"Elizabeth was impressed both by her enthusiasm and devotion to her husband's teachings. Of course, she herself had known of his wisdom for the many years that they had been married.Later that evening, she found the opportunity to speak with her husband while Charity was fetching wood from the store outside. "Husband, you have made a great impression upon our young maidservant. She enthuses about your lessons and you now have a most loyal follower. But, perhaps, please forgive me if I suggest this, but perhaps you should be wary that she becomes infatuated with you?"The Pastor smiled, an exceedingly rare sight indeed, and replied, "I know the bible, I know men, yet I know little about women. For that I will always be grateful that I have you to guide me. I shall, as you suggest, be careful."That evening, the pastor found his moral strength sorely tested. For some reason, Charity's nipples appeared to be erect and he found himself unable to take his eyes from her breasts. His erection, hidden from her by the table between them; was painful now; and try as he might, he could not dissuade himself from dropping his hand beneath the table and squeezing it. He did not rub it, but the constant pressure brought him close to climax. He took his hand away to prevent this happening, but even then, he nearly released into his breeches.The Pastor only just kept track of what Charity was saying to him, "I find myself experiencing some odd thoughts. Particularly on Sunday after church when the young farm hands walk by. They make comments and laugh with each other and gaze back at me. I, I feel, that I want to be noticed by them. Is that a sin?"Unable to make coherent thought, he said, "What do you think, child?"Believing that the Pastor was testing her, Charity thought hard before answering."Perhaps, if I desire such attention, or encourage it, then that could be deemed a sin? I do not believe I have been guilty of either of these things. But, I feel happy when, they regard me. I, do not know why. Is it a sin to be happy in this way?"Pastor Smith watched Charity as she struggled with the problem. Knowing he had to give an answer, he said the first thing that came to him, "It cannot be a sin to be merely happy. Indeed, many might l

 Accepting Charity: Part 1A Puritan virgin begins her journey.By RomanCEisdead2. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Charity BeginsCharles was a lowly cordwainer (a cobbler in modern terms). A religious man whose wife died during the plague outbreak in 1665. He lived in an isolated community in Essex, of England; with his only daughter, Charity.Age and failing eyesight meant that he could no longer make much of a living. He worried about his daughter who, having reached the age of 18 was still unmarried. His concerns were mainly because he had maintained her sheltered upbringing, deliberately keeping her away from other people, especially young men. The exception being the Pastor and his wife, who they usually saw on Sundays at the small building that served as a church for the local community.Realizing that he could no longer support both himself and Charity, Charles came up with an idea and at the next church meeting, he approached the Pastor."Pastor Smith, as you know, I'm getting old and my hands are tired and weak. I am unable to do as much as I used to, and my income is poor nowadays. I am a frugal man and I can survive on truly little, but I fear for my daughter Charity. She is a good girl, a hard worker and carries out all the household duties that her Mother used to do. I wonder, would it be asking too much if you could see your way to providing a roof over her head? She could work for her food and lodging, so you would not have to pay her. I'm sure that your wife would welcome such able help around the house.""Well William, I can understand your troubles. How old are you now? Sixty-two?""Sixty-seven Summers, this June Pastor. I feel fortunate that my father taught me to count when I was young, so that I could keep track as the years went by. People said he was foolish to do so, as I only need to count two shoes!" he joked."It's not surprising then that your body is struggling. Not many men make it to your age. As for your daughter, well, I had been thinking that Elizabeth could do with a little help. I had been thinking about a young woman to come in occasionally, but a permanent addition to our household? I will have to think about that. I will let you know next Sunday."William had not mentioned his idea to Charity yet, but he knew that he would have to broach the subject soon, because if the Pastor agreed, she might well not be accompanying him home in seven days' time. He prayed that the Pastor would agree, because he knew that Charity would be safe and looked after under their protection. She would be in a Christian environment, far from the temptations of the young farm hands in the area. But he just could not find the right time to explain his plan.One week later, Charles' prayers were answered when Pastor Smith confirmed his agreement to take Charity as a household servant and to continue her religious education. But now he had to explain to his daughter. She was waiting for him outside."Charity, I am old. I am tired and I can no longer earn enough to keep us both.""Oh! Father!" She was taken by surprise by this sudden admission. She had realized that her father was struggling but had hoped that God would help find a way to improve their situation."Ever since your Mother passed, bless her soul, all I have ever wanted to do is to provide for and protect you. I can no longer do this, so I have made a decision."Charity knew that he was about to tell her something that would change her life and she dreaded what she was going to hear."I have spoken to the Pastor and he has agreed to take you into his home as a servant, to help his wife in her daily duties. He has agreed to continue your religious education. I know that you will work hard and earn your keep. I know that you will be a good girl and make me proud.""Oh, Father! Are you sure? How will you manage without me?""I need very little child and I'm sure that I can earn just enough to feed myself.""But Father,""No "buts" my dear. I am afraid it must happen. I took the liberty of bringing your things with us today."Charity had wondered why her father had brought the sack with him. It was not exceptionally large, she only had three shifts and two changes of clothes and she was already wearing her best set."Ah Charity my dear. Are you ready to accompany us home?" The Pastor stood just behind her, his wife alongside him. She was a mousy, but pleasant woman. Her kindness shone through her dowdy appearance."Come along Charity, there is much to be done and we want to get you settled. Then I can begin to teach you your duties."Charity shed a single tear as she bade her father farewell, but more followed as she walked the short distance to the Pastor's house.It was not a large property. The garden had been mostly given over to the growing of vegetables for the table and fruit. Of course, these were all seasonal, so Elizabeth was adept at preserving produce for use during the Winter months.Once inside, Charity could see that the main room was dominated by the large fireplace. In the center was an oak table with bench seats on opposite sides. The floor was smooth stone and had clearly been scrubbed regularly.The Pastor's wife explained, "This is the room in which we live, eat and pray." She pointed to the steep steps in the corner, which led up to a simple door. "That is where Pastor Smith and I sleep."She turned and pointed, "That is the door that leads to the garden. This other door," again she pointed. "Will be your room." She walked across and unlatched it.The ceiling was low and the room small, made even smaller by the shelves opposite the bed, stacked with jars, bottles and food. Clearly, this was originally purposed as a pantry. Just beyond the bed, there was another, smaller door. Elizabeth opened this and showed Charity the Scullery.This was to be her home from now on.Charity was a handsome looking young woman and both Parson and Mrs. Smith could understand Charles' concerns for her welfare. The Pastor had promised to maintain her religious studies, but his work (both parochial and physical) meant that he could only spare the necessary time at the end of the day. So, while his wife retired up the tiny staircase to bed, He would sit with Charity in prayer and in religious discussion.Of course, as this was the end of the day, and Charity was expected to rise early to clear the fireplace and re-light it, she would ready herself for bed first. As for most people of the time, when a woman retired to bed, she wore her shift, the same one that she had been wearing throughout the day. She had three of the garments, two were worn alternately, with the third, and best, reserved for Sunday alone.It was possibly a week after Charity had started work at the Smith's house that, she was gradually given additional duties, one of which was to "put the fire to bed".The fireplace and fire were arguably the most important part of any household. It provided warmth in cold weather, dried damp clothing hung in front of it and was the source of heat for cooking and baking. Charity understood that being given this responsibility was a true sign of trust.So, on this evening, as Pastor Smith waited patiently, Charity crossed to the fireplace, hefted the large log that had been placed to the side and rolled it onto the embers. The fire had been allowed to burn down, so as not to waste fuel. The sleeper log would not burn easily, but would maintain an element of heat and, in the morning, would enable a rapid re-ignition of the fire.Pastor Smith watched Charity at work. They had a single candle for light to add to the glow of the fire. But when she rolled the log on, that light faded rapidly.Then, as Charity moved back away from the fire, she passed in front of the candle. Momentarily, her body was outlined through the thin linen material of her shift. The Pastor saw this and found it necessary to keep his eyes averted afterwards to prevent himself from staring at the region of her breasts.Distracted, they talked for a while and he asked her if she had any sins to confess."I'm not sure Pastor Smith. Because, perhaps, something that I do is a sin, and yet I do not know it?"The Pastor smiled, "Child, you show wisdom beyond your years, to question yourself in this way. Perhaps we should pray that you receive guidance from above."They had been sitting at the wooden table on a bench facing each other, having moved the candle between them. Charity moved towards the fireplace and knelt in front of the simple wooden cross that hung above it. She began her devotions.Pastor Smith watched her as she silently gave prayer. Now that she was facing away from him, he could allow his eyes to roam more freely, without fear of being espied. Charity's firm straight back showed the well-defined bones of her spine through the shift. As his eyes descended, they reached her posterior. She was sitting on the heels of her feet, with the toes pointing back toward him. For some reason, seeing the soles of her feet in this way he found sinfully arousing. Then, once she had finished her prayer, she began to get to her feet. The material of her shift hugged her buttocks as she rose on one knee and bent to stand.The Pastor cleared his throat and said, "You had better retire to your bed now child. I will sit here for a while longer. You may take the candle with you."The reality was that his erection would have been self-evident if he were to rise from the bench just now.The result of the evening prayer session was that the Pastor went to bed in a needful mood. Elizabeth, his wife, was already in bed, but still awake, awaiting her husband.He undressed quickly by the dim moonlight coming through the single, small window, but left his shirt on, this was what a man wore in bed, in the same way that the women wore their shift.He climbed under the covers, grateful that she had already warmed the bed."Wife, I find myself in need of you this evening," he whispered.Elizabeth was used to her husband's occasional "needs" and was well used to them, even though they had failed to produce a child of their own. After all, it was her wifely duty was it not? She would never admit such a thing to her husband, but, she quite liked it when he "needed" her.Pastor Smith tugged up Elizabeth's shift until it was around her waist. He then pulled up his shirt and moved across. She spread her legs as he climbed between them. Then thrilled as the back of his hand touched her as he presented the head of his penis to her womanhood. He pushed, then repositioned, and pushed again. This time, he gained entry and, slowly, penetrated to his full length.The Pastor was not forceful or rough, but he needed release quickly, so he was soon slapping his hips against his wife's body. His urgency and power were intoxicating to her and she began to experience sensations that were unfamiliar. Then, all too quickly for Elizabeth, he began jerking spasmodically and she knew he was about deposit his issue within her.The Pastor's teaching sessions with Charity continued each evening and the result for him was pretty much the same. She walked around in a thin shift and he was acutely aware that this was all that covered her youthful nakedness. Each time he had to send her to bed before he could rise from his seated position. His erections were powerful, and he had to hold it as he walked, lest the movements against his clothing became too much to bear. Elizabeth was called upon to do her wifely duty each night.Finally, she had to say something, "Husband, please be gentle I beseech you, for I am a little tender from your attentions of late. I know it is my wifely duty and I am keen to satisfy you, and happy to suffer if I must, but I fear you may not be aware."The Pastor understood and felt guilty. He had never spoken to Elizabeth about the actions between a man and his wife before, but his own needs outweighed his sense of propriety for once."I understand my dear. It would be callous of me not to take account of your feelings and thereby cause you discomfiture. But, perhaps there is a way,"Elizabeth was naïve when she married, not knowing anything about what a man and woman did in bed. Her Mother had informed her in only the vaguest of terms what was expected. Her new husband, the Pastor, was fortunately both gentle and understanding."What do you mean?" she asked.He coughed to clear his throat, "Please be assured my dear that I would never dare to mention such indelicacies for fear of shocking you, if it wasn't that I have the need and you are somewhat indisposed."After a pause, he continued, "A man can achieve issue by means other than union.""Oh," was all she could say."I will only explain such things if you are prepared to hear them. If you are not, then please speak out now and we shall never give them voice again.""Husband, I can tell this is difficult for you, but rest assured, as your loyal and loving wife I will do all that is necessary.""Good. And perhaps I should never have doubted that you would respond in that way."They were both lying beneath the bed covers. He pulled up his shirt to his waist and turned on his side towards her. He took hold of her hand and drew it downwards."This may shock you, so please be prepared. I am going to place your hand on my manhood. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with this, you must say so at once."He brought her hand to his penis and wrapped her fingers around it. She gasped and stiffened in shock. It was so big and hard and hot! With his hand clasping hers, there was no way that she could take it away, although after her initial reaction, that was the last thing she wanted to do.Elizabeth felt the blood pulsing through her husband's rod. Fascinated, she hardly even noticed as he began to move her hand up and down the shaft. She learned quickly what he wanted and continued when he took his hand away from hers. She lay on her right side and as she worked, her husband stroked up and down her covered arm. He wished just then that he could be feeling her naked flesh. The thought made him groan and his wife stopped her motions, wondering if she had hurt him."Don't stop. Don't stop!" he gasped. So, she continued.The Pastor's hand fell from her shoulder and alighted on her left breast. This time she gasped, as he squeezed. That shock was overwhelmed by the sudden jerking movements that came from her husband, accompanied by the wet stickiness that suddenly erupted, seemingly everywhere. She knew what this liquid was but was shocked at how much of it there was. Afterwards, she had to feel her way to the washstand to fetch a cloth with which to mop up. By the time she had finished, her husband was gently snoring. Elizabeth lay awake for some time, feeling awed by what had just happened.Charity became an invaluable member of the household within a noticeably short time and Elizabeth found that she was both a quick and able learner, as well as being thorough and hard working. One day, while watching her sweeping the floor, she asked if she was happy."Oh yes, Mistress! I am happy here. I get to see my Father at church each week and he seems to be well. But, well, if I am not being too bold, this has become my home now.""And do you find the Pastor's lessons helpful?""Oh, yes! He is a wise man. He explains passages of the bible that have long confused me. And he makes me think how the teachings therein relate to my own life. I find it wonderful!"Elizabeth was impressed both by her enthusiasm and devotion to her husband's teachings. Of course, she herself had known of his wisdom for the many years that they had been married.Later that evening, she found the opportunity to speak with her husband while Charity was fetching wood from the store outside. "Husband, you have made a great impression upon our young maidservant. She enthuses about your lessons and you now have a most loyal follower. But, perhaps, please forgive me if I suggest this, but perhaps you should be wary that she becomes infatuated with you?"The Pastor smiled, an exceedingly rare sight indeed, and replied, "I know the bible, I know men, yet I know little about women. For that I will always be grateful that I have you to guide me. I shall, as you suggest, be careful."That evening, the pastor found his moral strength sorely tested. For some reason, Charity's nipples appeared to be erect and he found himself unable to take his eyes from her breasts. His erection, hidden from her by the table between them; was painful now; and try as he might, he could not dissuade himself from dropping his hand beneath the table and squeezing it. He did not rub it, but the constant pressure brought him close to climax. He took his hand away to prevent this happening, but even then, he nearly released into his breeches.The Pastor only just kept track of what Charity was saying to him, "I find myself experiencing some odd thoughts. Particularly on Sunday after church when the young farm hands walk by. They make comments and laugh with each other and gaze back at me. I, I feel, that I want to be noticed by them. Is that a sin?"Unable to make coherent thought, he said, "What do you think, child?"Believing that the Pastor was testing her, Charity thought hard before answering."Perhaps, if I desire such attention, or encourage it, then that could be deemed a sin? I do not believe I have been guilty of either of these things. But, I feel happy when, they regard me. I, do not know why. Is it a sin to be happy in this way?"Pastor Smith watched Charity as she struggled with the problem. Knowing he had to give an answer, he said the first thing that came to him, "It cannot be a sin to be merely happy. Indeed, many might l

Beau Martonik is solo on this East Meets West Hunt podcast episode. He breaks down his 2024 Pennsylvania archery season, which was filled with encounters with big bucks and ultimately led to a filled tag on November 1st. He discusses fine-tuning specific spots, his mid-October cold front strategy, dealing with the heat, blown opportunities, getting aggressive, and much more! Topics: 00:00:00 - Intro 00:04:40 - Fine-tuning specific spots 00:10:35 - Mid-October cold front strategy - Huge buck encounter inside bedding 00:16:10 - Getting in tight during warm weather days 00:24:48 - Swing and a miss… 00:28:10 - Grunting in a nice 10 pt 00:31:40 - Bowhunting is a game of inches (and seconds) 00:36:60 - Taking it to the ground - Buck Down! 00:44:30 - Family retrieval 00:48:10 - Things can change any second Note** Timestamps will have roughly 4 minutes added to them depending on ad length. Resources: Instagram:   @eastmeetswesthunt @beau.martonik Facebook:   East Meets West Outdoors  Website/Apparel/Deals: https://www.eastmeetswesthunt.com/ YouTube: Beau Martonik - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQJon93sYfu9HUMKpCMps3w Partner Discounts and Affiliate Links: https://www.eastmeetswesthunt.com/partners Amazon Influencer Page https://www.amazon.com/shop/beau.martonik Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Stand-Up On The Spot at Skankfest Vegas! Featuring completely improvised sets from Mark Normand, Sam Tallent, Dan Cummins, Aaron Berg & Jeremiah Watkins. No material. Comedians create Stand-Up On The Spot off audience suggestions. Everything is covered from Summer Camp to Milfs, Grunting, Growing up in a Trailer Park, Vegas stories  & more! You know Mark Normand from We Might Be Drunk, Tuesdays with Stories and his viral one hour standup specials. Sam Tallent has a special The Toad's Morale and has recently appeared as a panelist on Kill Tony. Dan Cummins is the host of The Timesuck Podcast and Scared to Death, and he also has a one hour special Trying to Get Better. Aaron Berg you've seen on This is Not Happening, LOS, and 25 Sets. Jeremiah Watkins you know from Trailer Tales, Dr. Phil Live and his special DADDY. Follow the Comedians! Jeremiah Watkins  @jeremiahwatkins  @TrailerTalesPod    @standupots https://www.instagram.com/jeremiahstandup Mark Normand  @jordanjensenlolstop @marknormand  @WeMightBeDrunkPod  @TuesdayswithStories https://www.instagram.com/marknormand Sam Tallent  @jasonbankscomedy @samtallent https://www.instagram.com/samtallent Dan Cummins  @damondarlingtv @BadMagicProductions https://www.instagram.com/kenflores300 Aaron Berg  @thefumiabe @aaronbergcomedy https://www.instagram.com/aaronberg Stand-Up On The Spot https://www.instagram.com/standupots  @standupots   Sponsored by: Blue Chew Get BlueChew for free with code SPOT at https://www.bluechew.com Interested in sponsoring the show? Email standupots@gmail.com for inquiries SOTS Skankfest Vegas: Mark Normand, Sam Tallent, Dan Cummins, Aaron Berg & Jeremiah Watkins | Ep 61 #MarkNormand #1HourSpecial  #StandupComedy #SamTallent #DanCummins #AaronBerg #StandUpOnTheSpot #SOTS  #Jeremiah Watkins

Join Brad Fenson on the latest episode of Harvest Your Own as he chats with Tara Holmwood, Cassandra Hewitt, and Amanda Gill from the Communications team at Alberta Conservation Association. This episode is packed with fun and expert insights on the art of grunting for deer. Learn the best techniques, when to grunt, and how it can attract that trophy buck you've been after. Whether you're a beginner or a seasoned hunter, this conversation is brimming with tips, tricks, and a lot of laughs!Learn more about grunting for Deer on Harvest Your Own: How to Grunt for DeerFind Cassandra on Instagram: @cahewitt_Like the episode or let us know another topic to cover.Find Brad at:Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bradfenson/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brad.fensonFind Harvest Your Own at:Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HarvestYourOwnInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/harvestyourownaca/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@harvestyourownThreads: https://www.threads.net/@harvestyourownacaX/Twitter: https://x.com/harvestyourownWebsite: https://www.harvestyourown.ca/

Have you ever heard a haddock knock? What about a cusk eel's chatter? Sound travels four-and-a-half times faster through water than air and can be heard across huge distances. It's how whales are able to communicate hundreds of kilometres apart. Yet, for all its wonder, much of the underwater acoustic world remains a mystery to scientists.Although human ears can't detect most marine sounds, the invention of hydrophones – microphones designed to capture underwater audio – is helping scientists begin to unravel this hidden world.So how does sound move through water? And how do underwater creatures perceive and use sound? Amorina Kingdon's new book ‘Sing Like Fish' explores these questions, revealing how marine life depends on ingenious uses of sound to communicate, navigate, and thrive.In this episode, Kingdon and host Christie Taylor explore the fascinating ways fish and other marine animals produce sound, the physics of underwater ears, and how humans are impacting critical underwater soundscapes. Plus, samples of some of the most captivating underwater sounds she's encountered in her research.To read about subjects like this and much more, visit newscientist.com. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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The New College of Florida has been purged of its academic integrity and set up as an incubator of right wing ideology by Ron DeSantis, now, the school's president has destroyed an environmental preserve to construct ball fields.Michael Adno is a freelance writer and photographer from Sarasota. He recently visited the Apalachicola State Forest in the Panhandle to investigate worm grunting.

Moo to poo! These are the noises you're supposed to make to help with your bowel movementsSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Amy's spontaneity can be methodical in casting spells.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Roughly forcing Jerry's head to look away, I fondled his nuts rolling them around in my fingers. "Any recent sexual activity?" When no response was forth coming, I gently cupped his testicles to prompt a reply, I questioned, "Your cock is blocked, but fellatio, cunnilingus, anal penetration are possible." Turning aside Jerry's protest, I noted, "these are prescribed questions."Jerry's response reached into the alto range. Adding "You should know," to his denial drew a squeeze."Nocturnal emissions?" I asked.Jerry smirked, "No."As I felt along Jerry's hairless pubes, I reminded him that to schedule an appointment for depilation in a month or two. I held the penis in my hand and noted that he was circumcised. Looking down at my notebook, I asked, "age at circumcision?""Y'know that it's ritually performed often on newborn males," Jerry replied, "I never got asked these questions here before.""I'm just completing information required for your chart," I remarked impersonally as I announced the entry, "Age uncertain."Feeling along the underside of the shaft from the head of the penis to its root, I feigned marveling, "The poker glows but the coals," I jiggled his nuts curled up against the body, "retreat into the cauldron."Reaching under the scrotum, I tickled his perineum, the ridge of skin which leads to the asshole. When Jerry started to sway and to murmur for more I abruptly, I broke off contact and ordered Jerry into the showers. He turned to me with a look of expectation, "The news?" Jerry folded his hands as if in prayer as he pled for reassurance."Good, I expect, now the shower," I whacked his rear as he passed me.When necessary, the Gemini, the irascible twin, can be brutally cold-blooded in dealing with an intimate and unspeakably forward in dealing with a person newly introduced.The trip to the shower when I first met my mate in my apartment also began with a whack. Fingering Jerry's Marine Corp tattoo, I murmured my admiration for his upper body physique. Jerry interrupted my doting by reminding me that he'd like to take a shower and needed to borrow soap. "You can eh, continue your examination in the shower...""I'll take that as an invitation," I exclaimed as I whipped his towel off. "I see," taking note of his building erection, I declared to Jerry, face aghast, "you like what you see.""You as well?" Jerry replied in a voice which quivered with shock.Starting to walk away with a harrumph to the shower swinging my hips with great exaggeration, I observed an unvoiced word clinging to his open mouth, `What.' Concealing my glee at Jerry's discomfort, I tossed Jerry's towel toward the bath. "You won't need this towel just yet." To Jerry's open mouthed, unspoked protest, I replied, "I have one bar of soap left. Are you joining me?" I dragged Jerry to my shower pulling him along by his penis. I marveled at its burgeoning length and growing rigidity.A Gemini moves in two directions at once. Genteel and tart, sweet and smart at the same time, like the natural actress, she can switch between roles in an instant. Positioning Jerry under a spigot in the male donor's communal shower at the clinic, I began soaping his back. "Skin silky smooth as a newborn." I complimented him on the depilation, removal of body hair, which accompanies installation of the cock blocker at the clinic."Now that you bring that up.." Jerry started to inquire about the wealthy doctor's choice of Surrogate."We're on camera," I, crushing my breasts into the rock-solid muscles of his back, tiptoed to softly whisper in his ear. Sharply changing my tone, "Arms out," I barked. My command rang off the tiled walls.A Gemini can ponder for hours over an insignificant matter and then make a snap life changing judgement. I had made my decision before I started marching Jerry to my shower. Jerry was mine."Do you," Jerry, stretching the elastic band of my thong, asked when he reached the smoked glass shower doors, "need these in there?"Swaying as I massaged his erect penis, I wondered aloud, "You seem to like me, but I don't know. I come at a high price.""Are you a ugh, a whore?" Jerry stumbled."No, I can fuck like a whore promised a bonus, but as faithful as true love," I replied stretching his poker, "I am a witch who has cast her spell. My price is higher than the classiest call girl. "By design, these," my fingers cupped his nut sack, "become mine. You keep or lose the twain, as I ordain." I deliberately used inflated language. Jerry's mouth opened agape as I released his genitalia raised my arms and twisted my body, seductively daring him in a whisper, "Seal the witch's pact, strip my thong off, with a yank."I could smell his scent rising. Had I come on too strong? Would Jerry run away?A Gemini can be a bitch and an angel, at the same time. Certainly, at the clinic Jerry was spell-bound by the prospect of money. Would he ever realize that the bullying and rough handling in the male donor's shower was for his own good. "Spread your legs. Bend over. Crack me a smile. Will you luv?"I started to drip oily soap along the base of his spine watching it slowly drip into his crack between his hairless ass cheeks, reddened with anxious anticipation. "Somehow, Sugar, sleek and smooth legs do not fit the male body." I quipped as I whacked his butt.In my shower, Jerry's face reddened not with shame but with a surge of testosterone. He reached for my elastic band of my thong, but only snapped it. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I swayed my hips as I joked, "are you trying to play romantic tune on my waist band?"I finally goaded him past the point of no return. With a sweep of his powerful hands my thong was gone. I jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He carried me into the shower.In the donor's shower at fertility clinic, I had thought of dousing Jerry with cold water, but that might break whatever power my spell still held. I had to be more clever. I want to harness the current and convert it to my own purposes. Instead, watching oily soap drip into his crack, I advised him that the ointment may feel cold at first but will warm as I work it in. As I wormed my nimble fingers past Jerry's sphincter muscles, I noted dryly, "a woman's long narrow fingers make female doctors better able to conduct proctological exams."Aroused Jerry turned to me fully erect. Feeling his pulsating penis, I passed the impassive comment, "Mr. Warbler, as you see a rectal exam has certain noticeable side effects." Jerry was breathing hard. His face was flush. Would he push me to the ground, rip my thong off, bind my hands, and take me from behind--his favorite position? We looked at each other panting. Would this be our moment?My magic was there, but not strong enough to overpower the lure of financial reward. Turning away, Jerry told me to towel him down. "I need to get to the hitching post to leave my deposit.In the shower in my apartment, when I first met Jerry, I, finding myself back on my feet, released the spigot. Turning to the spray, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to moisten my lips. Jerry's feet nudged mine further apart. With one muscular arm to force me, bent over at the waist, Jerry used his other hand to guide his penis to an insertion. I gasped as his projectile glided deep inside. Jerry's poem went, "Arms grappling, legs straddling , pike portending, connection pending."With hands gripping my hips, Jerry suddenly expanded by at least an inch. Reaching his maximum extent, Jerry exploded inside me. My vaginal muscles twitched trying to keep Jerry burrowed deep inside. It was a moment I wanted to last forever. Nonetheless, Jerry's crashing rocket simply sputtered and slipped out of my socket.Leaving me face down on the floor of the shower, Jerry retrieved a towel. Covering my shoulders, Jerry whispered, "First time?""With a, ugh, a, ugh, real man," came my carefully thought out response. Reflecting on that comment years later in the fertility clinic, I, slinging a bath towel over my shoulder, readied to towel down Jerry. I chuckled to myself, real man, a double-meaning is given as a compliment. A Gemini, the twin, is pulled in two directions at the same time, in sexual preferences to women as well as men. Right after inviting Jerry down to the clinic, I found myself naked rubbing vaginal lips with a patient bringing her to orgasm for injection of seminal fluid.Dropping to my kneeling before Jerry, I remarked offhand about the state of erection, "Not fully erect. The projectile hasn't yet jutted out horizontal. A little rub-a-dub-dub will change that," I giggled as I readied to towel dry Jerry's body from the toes up. "The clinic assumes that showering," I assumed a conversational tone, "will deflate the swelling initiated by removal of the cock blocker and the genital examination. The towel girl's hands-on drying of the donor's body will reignite the natural process of arousal."Working my way up to his inner thighs, I motioned for Jerry to spread his legs to allow me to blot dry his groin. "Actually, it resulted in a competition between the shower sirens in black thongs against the towel valets in white two pieces for tip money." I lifted Jerry's penis to dab his scrotum.As the reach of my hands ran across his muscular chest, Jerry threw his head back and closed his eyes. My slow and methodical rub down palpated the armor plating of Jerry's pectoral muscles. Holding his head high and scrunching his eyes shut, Jerry demonstrated an iron discipline over his physical response to my impersonalized but intense pampering.In our home life prior to my consideration for Surrogacy, Jerry was never shy and rarely restrained. He usually wrestled me to the ground, secured my hands with my bra, stuffed my panties in my mouth and took me doggy style. How much longer could such a person maintain the discipline? How much more could any man take much less a "real man" like Jerry?Could I endure much more? To ease tension, I declared, "Though first timers can shoot their wad during the intake, the financial reward of a controlled emission at a hitching post seems to be the right magic which inspires restraint."As I lay huddled, curled up on the floor of my shower, a towel partly covering my back, my bare ass jutting out, Jerry leaned over me. "Are you OK? I tried to hide my satisfaction. He was guilty, Just about now, I figured, he'd fear I cry rape.Reaching out to Jerry with an extended hand, I, hiding my face from him, pleaded, "Help me to my feet; dry me; get me to bed. Will you?"Grunting with exaggeration, "up," Jerry yanked me to my feet. Roughly running a bath towel through my hair, Jerry lashed the towel around his fists before he rubbed my neck. When Jerry startled pummeling my breasts with his terry-cloth covered fist, I wondered if he intended to use the wet towel as a whip to flog my ass.My fears of a thrashing were unwarranted. Instead ordering me to spread my legs, Jerry threaded the towel between my legs and started rubbing the towel against my vaginal lips and my crack. "Hang on," Jerry ordered, "I hope this towel is strong enough. You're going for a ride to your bed."In the Fertility Clinic, I had thought of having Jerry towel me down, but looking at the state of his erection, I determined that to be too much temptation. Even a large bath towel draped around my body after I removed my wet thong, left most of my ass open to view. I looked up at the security camera with a wink and a smile. "You'll get a good show," I promised.Security people didn't mind helping me trying to find good pictures of myself. I had intended to assemble images of myself undressing in the locker, walking nude to the shower, showering, and submitting to practice with the sperminator, returning to the locker nude along the catwalk, and dressing in my risqué Crop Top and low cut shorts to go home. Explaining my script of the fantasy drew a comment from the guard, "A nice stimulant for a quiet night shift."As Jerry and I prepared to leave the shower in the clinic, Jerry, shaking his head gravely doubted needing, "much stim. I'll come as soon as you link me to the hitching post."When I led Jerry down the ramp into the subterranean level where the new the solarium and sauna had been installed, I advised Jerry, "Deem yourself honored. You are first to use this new amenity."In my bedroom, I held onto Jerry so tightly our lips locked as he carried me on the towel to my bed. Riding atop the towel rubbing into my vagina and crack, I felt the tectonic shock waves of an intense orgasm approaching.Suddenly we crashed onto the bed. Jerry lay on the bed next to me. I seized the opportunity. In a flash I rolled over and landed on top, straddling Jerry. Feeling along Jerry's shaft sticky with his sap and my lubricants, pulsating with a new erection, I declared, "I ought to tuck this in before it dissipates.""Tuck for a fuck," Jerry grunted as I lowered my body onto his pulsating member. "Ah," I expressed my satisfaction as Jerry's probe explored my depths. My vaginal muscles clamped down squeezing his projectile forcing it to elongate inside me. As soon as I drew him in up to the root of his penis, I began slowly at first lifting my body until the head of Jerry's penis was teased barely in contact, then off, crashing down swallowing the length of his penis inside.Raising my arms, I yelled, "Ride em cow girl." With each undulation, I increased the speed. As he was about to cum, Jerry grabbed my hips and tried to hold them to avoid slipping out. But I was in control. I timed my oscillations so that when Jerry went into his final surge his penetration barely crested my vagina lips. "Damn," I thought aloud, as Jerry's sap drained onto his belly, "I just washed the sheets."Entering the Fertility Clinic's solarium with Jerry, I commented, "the smoky blue lighting shooting up from fixtures along the floor reflecting off the glass walls give this room a spooky feeling at night."Looking around, Jerry asked, "Are you sure we should be in here?"To Jerry's witty remark that sun porches were not generally intended for night use, I chuckled in disbelief, "If the Clinic can sell training films, human breast milk and man-sap and rent women's bodies for Surrogacy, it will market anything that can be produced on premises." Pointing to the mat on the floor, I told Jerry to lie and to don an electronic visor. "I know you prefer to fantasize doing the animalistic doggy-styled hitching post, but I'd like to watch you christen the solarium in the passive cowgirl style. Beside that attachment was easier for me to drag in here."You know," Jerry reminded me, "Female riding atop subordinates me."Despite the protest, financial reward or the hope of it was powerful magic. Obediently dropping to the floor, Jerry lay supine. As I assisted him placing the visor on his head, Jerry asked about the news. "After you make the deposit," I promised."Hurry," Jerry pleaded."Patience," I reminded Jerry.Reviewing scores of recordings for selections of security camera segments for inclusion in my fantasy overtaxed my patience far beyond what I expected. Other than the stock training films, I realized it'd be easier to stage other scenes.My conspirator in security suggested that I'd be able to indulge in a bust of creativity by creating a film rather than trawling through archives: "You arrive in one of your new revealing outfits. I prefer the black cropped top and matching mesh Minnie skirt with black net stockings. Hips swinging, you present full-frontal nudity sashaying on the catwalk to the shower where you furiously masturbate under the spray. After a provocative toweling, we throw in the training film sequence. Give'em a good wiggle with a rear view as you shake that booty down the catwalk to leave. Title it a `Tough Day at the Office.'""`A Tough Day at the Office,' indeed," I exclaimed, "might take more than a few seconds to produce.""A labor of love," my conspirator replied with a snide smile."Or appealing to your prurient interest," I protested the guard's request for a private show to make the film. As a Gemini being of two minds at the same time, the paradox was intriguing. For the sake of love, I would be giving my friend in security a private show for his amusement. "Dr. Velour, the facility director?" I asked."The director is preparing to move

Clinic Nurse explains heterosexuality to sperm recipient.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. I was busy in the morning playing the warden, releasing the bulls, the male donors, from the chastity shield and inspecting their genitalia. Unfortunately, word spreads quickly in the clinic. The bulls chided me about my prospective transfer to the female section. "Afraid of dealing with real men," upbraided one bull. His teasing brought a round of a hearty laughter."I'll return the compliment," I retorted, "in this locker, I wear the crown. Under lock and key, I keep your implement. It is I who frees you from peeing sitting down." Later, descending into the subsurface level, I found myself walking with a group of bulls, phallus dangling free, headed to the gym. One, a Mr.Tim Bogen, a relative newcomer, pulled me aside.Worry etched on his face, Bogen requested permission to pose a question. "What would you think if your husband registered here as a bull?"I pondered for a second. "I'd sleep more nights through, wake up fresh still in my PJs more often and get more cuddling time. My eh—partner would learn the use of his tongue. I might like some cunnilingus, now and then. How does your partner feel about your role here?""She came here on one of the partners' days when they allow the bulls to eh -" The bull hesitated."Screw," I suggested."Kind-of," Bogen spoke hesitantly, "Eh—Interaction is subject to strict supervision. Females are protected, like prized animals, from unplanned insemination," the Bogen grimaced, "Bulls must use a sperm collection condom.""I guess Dr. Velour has an exclusive output contract with her bulls," I surmised."The clinic starts off females in milk extraction," the bull recounted."I'm sure it's just an experiment to see if the exercise of the nipples will fool the body into producing milk," I assured Bogen. "Participants, mostly college girls picking up a quick buck, are paid to have their nipples exercised. What's the worry? You are permitted to work her nips at home. It can lead to renewal, a new beginning of tender moments and bonding.""With me in chastity?" questioned Bogen."With you in chastity," I replied in a comforting voice, "the exercise might increase sexual tension and spur sperm production.""But where does that lead to—for her?" Bogen wondered, "Titty tugging is just a beginning. Each step makes the next step easier. Taking money to have her tits pulled can become selling her body for milk production and then getting knocked-up for surrogacy.""You really starting to worry about a concern that has yet to present itself. Perhaps, you should explore your feelings with Dr. Velour and your partner," I spoke with an encouraging voice, "I'm just a Nursing Assistant in training, not qualified to counsel you and your partner."At the foot of the ramp, I promised to raise his concerns with Dr. Velour. Entering the small theatre next to Dr. Velour's office, I found myself alone with Dr. Velour, now in her freshly pressed pleated dark skit with heels and white lab jacket over a sweater. The other nursing assistant trainees had not arrived."They'll be down," Dr. Velour informed me, "in a few minutes; Pat is exercising her nipples; Cassie needed to take a shower after working up a sweat in the gym; Beth is expressing milk. They'll be down after a shower."Apprised of the Bogen's concerns, Dr. Velour congratulated me, "you did right by referring the bull to me for guidance." With a hand on my shoulder, Dr. Velour asked, "What do you think makes a good Surrogate?""Physically fit enough to carry a baby to term, ovulating, able to conceive," I replied."Physical capability is important. Most women are, but what should I look for in a young woman who wants to be a surrogate?" Dr. Velour inquired."A motivated person," I replied."Indeed, motivations. That's what I look for," Dr. Velour exclaimed, "What I look for in a surrogate starting out is the antithesis of a good mother. First, she's less interested in bringing life into the world than securing an advantage for herself, an objective, material purpose, an expensive house, a limited-edition car, a dream vacation, something beyond their means that a woman might be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for, giving up a child. Second, it is helpful, that a woman be a bit of an exhibitionist, one who enjoys being the center of attraction, the star of the show.""I don't mean to inquire into your personal affairs..." I started."But you've heard that I financed my medical education by playing surrogate, three times," Dr. Velour chuckled. "I came away in good condition, don't you think?  No scars, genitalia intact, abdomen uncut." With a laugh, Dr. Velour reminisced, "medical people are so self-centered that no one noticed I was pregnant—every year.""You were not the center of attention?" I was stunned."A couple years later, I went to a reunion," Dr. Velour recalled, "an alum approached me... `Weren't you the girl who skipped graduation because you were pregnant in the last year and delivered? What did you end up having?'" Dr. Velour smiled as she reflected, "`Money to pay the tuition,' was my response.""Then, you were not the center of attention?" I was confused."Most women feel they are or should be as their baby balloons out," Dr. Velour explained, "Sometimes a husband can be jealous." With a reassuring back rub, Dr. Velour promised, "I'll call the bull in, for reassurance."At that Cassie the gymnast entered in scrubs. The sleeves were cut off to reveal her biceps. Following her were Pat, topless big breasts bouncing, and Beth also topless with pads covering her nipples. "Sorry, Dr. Velour," hands cupped in front of her breasts, Beth apologized, "I've been expressing. I need to sop up the drip."I was somewhat surprised to see both ladies enter in yellow shorts and slippers, displaying their breasts, Beth boldly, Pat looking around nervously gauging our reaction."Let's start with Pat," Dr. Velour began, "But first I begin with an explanation, not an apology. There are no apologies in medicine we're always right." Dr. Velour looked from face to face. Her remarks drew some giggling and a few chuckles."In our last session, we had Amy Warbler get dressed in order to come down here to strip behind the privacy screen. The purpose of requiring a patient to disrobe is control. Beth," Dr. Velour called on the surrogate, "could you explain how our heifers enter to express milk?""It's an assembly line. Heifers report, disrobe," Beth outlined the procedure, "shower, line up for examination, handed a pair of yellow shorts and slippers, assigned a booth for milking.""Human breasts are a secondary sex characteristic, not a sexual organ," Dr. Velour lectured, "They are designed for two purposes: to attract a mate and to produce milk for the sustenance of an infant."Velour called Pat to center stage, "Lets start. The areola, the ring around the mammary papilla, the nipple," Dr. Velour ran the pad of her index finger around Pat's areola, "of a blond, like Pat, is usually a subdued off-white." Dr. Velour looked to Beth. "Under those pads, a brunette, or any other dark-haired woman like Beth should have darker, more prominent areolas."Beth looked with a smirk on while Pat turned her head away as Dr. Velour's hands massaged Pat's breasts. "The Female Breasts," Dr. Velour taught, "infused with network of nerves, spread out widely, are extremely sensitive to physical contact." Placing her hands under Pat's breasts as if weighing them in the palm of her hands, Dr. Velour asked whether Pat suffered any neck or back pain from the weight of her breasts.Rolling Pat's nipples between thumb and index fingers, Dr. Velour lectured, "In bringing down the milk, the heifers in the experimental program start with manual manipulation of the nipples. Unlike milking a cow, by simply squeezing the bossie's teat from the top to the bottom, manual manipulation of human breasts must take a subtle, gentler form of palpating or massaging the nipples to simulate suckling an infant."Ordered to drop to the ground, Pat presented on all fours. Dr. Velour squatted in front of Pat, "Taking the nipples between thumb and index finger," Dr. Velour discoursed, "gently tug one then the other. The subject will after she gets used to the position become quite stimulated." Rising and assisting Pat to her feet. "Try this at home with your partner, but there is another way."Turning to Beth, Dr. Velour called for comments. "Sometimes, direct oral stimulation, properly done, mouth covering the tit," Beth explained, "will be more effective in bringing down the milk.""More efficacious as well as more affectionate," Dr. Velour smiled before she invited Beth to demonstrate. "Beth, you have the most experience," Dr. Velour urged Beth on, "show us how direct oral stimulation is done."Supporting Pat's breasts with the palm of her hand, Beth, with a smile, jiggled Pat's breasts. "Nice jugs," Beth smiled. Beth locked eyes with Pat. Pat's hands tentatively reached out to clutch Beth's shoulders.As Beth craned her head to lick Pat's left nipple, Pat placed her right hand on Beth's head to hold Pat close. Beth slobbered her tongue around Beth's left nipple. Capturing Pat's nipple in the mouth, Beth started suckling.Turning to Cassie and me, Dr. Velour orated as if she were lecturing a theatre full of students, "Suckling creates a vacuum instrumental in bringing down milk. The breast pumps employed in the clinic operate on the same principal. The pump captures the whole nipple and creates a vacuum replicating a mouth suckling." With a smile, Dr. Velour exclaimed, "The body is a marvelous machine!"In front of us, the suckling became louder and more intense as Pat's left hand reached around Beth to clutch Beth in a hug. Beth's hands falling on Pat's hips, yanked Pat's yellow shorts off. The shorts fell to the floor, Pat kicked them off. The two tumbled to the platform of the stage."Breast feeding is a pleasurable experience," Dr. Velour observed, "pre-natal or pre-adoptive practice can reinforce the pair bond which many believe essential to child rearing. The human body is a well oiled machine. Unfortunately, there is no turn-off switch," Dr. Velour chuckled. "We can allow these two go orgasmic for the moment."With the sound of an impending orgasm echoing in the background, Dr. Velour turned from Cassie to me. "One of our bulls has expressed concern over his wife," Dr. Velour explained the problem I had raised, "After his wife came on a couple's day, she decided to join our programme as a Heifer to stimulate her breasts to induce lactation."Cassie chirped, "She wants to be a Moo-Cow and he's worried. I don't believe it""That's the problem," Dr. Velour observed. "It is possible that the husband might fear his role as the center of attention in the relationship is endangered by competition from his wife. Amy, do you have any suggestions?"My attention was riveted on the tussling in the background. I watched Beth's lips slip away from suckling Pat's left breast, planting kisses down Pat's abdomen with a smack. When Beth reached Pat's mound, I heard Pat emit giggling sighs of delight. Pat's legs wrapped around Beth's neck; sucking sounds became louder as the grasp of Pat's legs drew Beth in deeper.Prompted by Dr. Velour to advance a solution for the bull's problem, I saw the answer in the scene unfolding before me. Still watching Beth and Pat in the throes of orgasm, I proposed, "Meet the couples together. Allow the bull to suckle the heifer, suggesting scientific standards require observation for monitoring the technique." Looking at Beth and Patty locked in an embrace on the floor, I added, "that way both will share center stage.""Hmm." Dr. Velour opined, "just let their bodies' wiring take over."In front of us, Beth and Pat shook with successive waves of orgasm. Transfixed by the spectacle on stage, I, sandwiched between the firm body of Dr. Velour and muscle-bound Cassie, felt overheated. "Stimulating, isn't it?' Dr. Velour threw an arm over my shoulder to whisper in my ear."If I were still in school," Looking toward Dr. Velour with a sheepish smile, "I'd skip school this afternoon, find Jerry and fuck myself blind."Cassie laughed. Dr. Velour with an enigmatic half-smile changed my assignment for the day to shower girl in the heifers' shower. "Keep you away from temptation. As you know I have an exclusive on all the Bull's spermatic secretions."The rest of the day passed routinely for a fertility clinic. I spent the afternoon as towel girl in the heifer's section. At the end of the workday, I was approached by Dr. Velour to share a spigot in the employee's shower. Asked for my reaction to working with women, I reflected, "Different things are dangled in your face; the saucy comments and suggestions are subtler; the objective is the same: a cheap jives rather than cheap thrill, but no requests for nipple stimulation, manipulation, suckling, or massages.""How disappointing!" Dr. Velour sounded sympathetic. Turning, Dr. Velour requested I soap her back. Starting with her shoulders I spread the foamy liquid on her shoulders, massaging her neck, lathering her arm pits when she spread her arms out. Holding her head back to look up at the ceiling, Dr. Velour opened her mouth and held out her tongue to catch the gentle beads of water falling on her when I passed the sudsy froth along the sides of her breasts.As I rubbed the bubbly mass down her spine, Dr. Velour, eyes shuttered, demanded, "lower, lower, work out the kinks of a long day." The droplets of soap sparkled as I applied the creamy solution and kneaded the firm, muscular half-moons of her butt.I looked around. Everyone had left me with Dr. Velour alone.Splaying her legs and bending over, Dr. Velour, exceptionally agile, reached for the floor with her hands. Presenting her crack invited an intimate massage. I had seconds to think of a diplomatic solution to keep contact impersonal. I leaned into Dr. Velour teasing her back with my nipples and excused myself for a second in an apologetic tone, "I need to leave you for a second to reach for surgical gloves. Don't go away."Dr. Velour muttered with an undertone of disappointment, "If you must."Locating surgical gloves, I stepped into the Shower girl's bottoms. Topless, I reasoned, ought to be enough stimulation. Returning to Dr. Velour, I first squeezed the bubbles out of a washcloth between those firm half-moons. Then I worked the effervescent fluid into her crack, massaging her sphincter with the pad of my thumb, entering her warm vagina with my index, middle and fore fingers.She moaned as her orgasm overtook her. Though I had intended to keep the contact impersonal, the electric charge of her orgasmic contractions jumped from her body to mine. A flush branched out from the cheeks of my face to my chest. My nipples went erect. I started to laugh at myself for donning bikini bottoms. I felt the urge to rip them off and rub my vagina into her muscular legs. I leaned into her back. We swayed together as the ripples of orgasm shot through our bodies.Suddenly, with a jerk, Dr. Velour pushed me off and stood on her feet. Casting a scurrilous glance at the bikini bottoms clinging to my ankles, Dr. Velour cautioned me, "Kick those things off before you trip."Hands on her hips, Dr. Velour congratulated me, "Not bad! Remind me to give your class some lessons in massage." Staring through me dispassionately, she observed, "It may come in handy." Looking around the empty room, Dr. Velour told me to rinse off. "The night crew will be reporting in soon to service the bulls who come in for a shower after work."Before the heat of our encounter faded away, Dr. Velour walked down the catwalk toward her private changing room. Watching her retreat down the walk of shame, I wondered what had I begun? I had wanted to ensure that contact would be impersonal. Dr. Velour intended nothing different. I felt I betrayed myself husband, but most of all I had betrayed poor Jerry.

Fertility clinic nurse explores magic of sex play in study.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 4: Fun & Games People Play.My tall and muscular husband Jerry, pleasantly bemused, encouraged my studies and offered his body for practice."First, I wash my hands and introduce myself," I went through my checklist, "Good morning Mr.Warbler. I'm Nursing Assistant Amy Warbler. After I release you from chastity, I'm going to conduct a testicular exam, a complete physical inspection of the genitalia, the penis, scrotum, and testicles.""Oh, please do," said Jerry with a smile.I moved his chin to the right and ordered Jerry to put his hands on his head.Passing my written and practical test, with Jerry's help, I found myself in a somewhat more staid, professionalized environment. On duty, I was addressed as Miss Warbler. I wore medical scrubs replete with a name tag that identified me as a Nursing Assistant.Co-opting in the trial run-through for the hands-on portion of the exam, Jerry complained that I should borrow surgical scrubs for more realism in my exam. "There's something to the medical accoutrements, the scrubs, the name tag, and the stethoscope that promote cooperation of the subject."With Jerry's size and strength, I needed all the help the prop of an improvised costume could bring to assure his pliancy.To accommodate Jerry's quest for realism, I wore one of his white shirts, backwards, over a loose, billowy pj bottom. I preferred the short sleeve shirt to tease Jerry with a glimpse at my breasts. Jerry's T-Shirt fit loose enough; I only buttoned the top button to make sure the top flowed with my movement. To Jerry's suggestion that, on duty, I wear a bra or a T-shirt under the scrubs, I reminded him that paying customers give tips."Tips for Tits!" Jerry exclaimed. "You must model this exceptional garment for me. Bring a pair home.""To leave at the end of my shift," I replied, "I have to walk naked from a communal shower along a steel mesh parapet for 100 paces. How can I spirit scrubs out of the clinic?"Still, even after elevation to a demi-professional caste, we had to strip, stow our street clothes in a locker, and walk naked along a catwalk about 100 feet to communal showers. Instead of the 4AM race of the cleaning crew to the showers, we leisurely strolled to the showers. One of the women walked with the man, idly chatting. Next to me walked a cherubic brunette Darrie. "Think of it as short for Darling," she told me."Appropriate name," I replied, "for the angel who releases the male donor from the cock block to release the built-up eh—tension.""Angel Darlin', now that would be a nice name," Darrie chuckled, "the guys call the nurse in the locker the Angel of Mercy. We call her the `Warden.'"In our practice for my hands on exam, Jerry expressed interest in experiencing me in the role of the Angel of Mercy."Not ready to recognize me as your warden," I chided Jerry.Perhaps, Jerry suggested as he stood naked in front of me that I should have obtained permission to borrow a chastity belt for that purpose. "The clinic might have allowed issuance of the belt, but not the electronic notebook. You might find a chastity grows on you. Without the release button on the electronic notebook, you'll find the belt is easier to get into than to get out of."Under the spigot next to me, Darrie, looking around the shower, sighed. "You're new. The only problem with working at the Fertility Clinic is," a silly expression appeared on her face, "it grows on you.""Quite an interesting comment," I replied, "about an institution designed to grow eh, people.""The longer you are here," Darrie smiled, "the more you're bound up in it, the harder it is to leave, and the more you find yourself willing to do."Though there were enough spigots in the shower for us to keep a respectful distance from each other, we tended to congregate within arms' reach of each other. "I'm going to help you-just for the first few customers-In the locker-just to show," Darrie proposed, "you how to handle eh, the ropes." We both giggled together before she asked, "Soap up my back, will you be a luv?"Turning her back to me, Darrie waited for me to apply a washcloth from the short hairs of her neck to her shoulder blades down to her butt. "Are you married, luv?" When I acknowledged, she prodded me, "to a guy?" At my nod, she added, "you'd do well as shower girl, but today you play warden, unlock them on the way in and lock them tight on the way out."At the clothing counter, Darrie recommended that I wear a T-Shirt under the scrubs, "It being your first time, you might not want guys gaping at your swinging tits.""Tits bring Tips," I quipped.In my practice with Jerry, I went through the protocol: "Second, once the subject has disrobed, the subject should present naked standing in front of you. Some prefer to perform the examination kneeling to the side of the patient. Most examiners prefer to stand to conduct an initial appraisal of the subject's general condition.""Hands on your head, Mr.Warbler, if you please, legs apart," I ordered in a cheerful voice."Why do you need to keep an eye on my hands?" Jerry asked. "Does a 90 lb woman facing fear losing control over a naked, sex crazed man recently sprung from chastity?""Interesting choice of words," I replied.When Darrie and I peeked in the male donor's locker, three or four men completely undressed were milling about inside. Darrie pointing out a fair skinned nervous sort criss-crossing his chest with his arms, "Probably, the new guy, Mr.Flesher," she surmised.Naked except for an inverted triangular shaped dome covering their crotches, the men awaited release. Standing at the entrance the male donor's locker, Darrie whispered, "Unexpected things," an evil smile peered on her lips, "especially with new donors can happen when the projectile is unleashed. Never stand directly in the path of an eruption."We both giggled when I quipped, "Interesting concept."Entering the male donor's locker, Darrie barked, "Line up," Darrie pointed to a line down the middle of the room, "Hands on your heads, the one on top of your head you think with, if you expect your schlong to swing."There were some catcalls from the guys lining up. One called out, "Wear a bra if you're afraid I'll cop a feel.""While I keep your schlong locked," Darrie shot back, "fondling my tits in a moment of joy will bring your cock quite a shock.""You just want to smell my pits," screeched another."Just to check, forsooth," Darrie quipped, "underarms remain smooth and clean and not hirsute." Darrie leaned over to give me advice at an audible whisper, "it's good to keep chappies happy by wiggling your tush and acting a little sassy.""Consider this a eh, dress rehearsal. You're suitably naked and I'm in an improvised nurse's costume," I commenced a test-run of the examination. As Jerry stood hands over his head, I announced the next step, "Third," pausing to seize his penis for examination, I continued, "thoroughly inspect the penis frontal and dorsal,-eh all sides for lumps, swellings, ulcers or scars."At my touch, I could feel Jerry's penis begin to pulsate and gel from flaccid to rubbery. I noticed Jerry's lips pursing. I heard my heart pounding in my chest. Breathlessly, in a dreamy voice combining technical book learning with pillow talk, I gushed, "think of the penis as engineering miracle of erectional hydraulics, a natural pump capable of accomplishing a surge of blood flow within seconds. When the penis swells with blood, the pelvic floor muscles launch the penis eh, into ecstasy."Ecstasy? I questioned myself. That's contrary to protocol which impersonalized intimate contact. Putting aside the delicacy of social conventions, I, focusing on the objective, must conduct procedures by the book step-by-step. The heart may beat faster, the temperature may rise, but the purpose of intimate contact is professional. "Physical contact with a female nurse during a delicate examination can produce a natural reaction in a male patient," I reassured Jerry."Priming the pump triggers the launch. I hope so," Jerry replied.Announcing as we swept into the locker room, "Gentlemen prepare to launch your rockets, 10-9 -8-7 ...," Darrie pushed a button on her notepad. The clang of the plastic covers falling to the ground followed. While I collected the fallen shields, Darry declared, "Fun time! Examination of the genitalia."When she reached Mr.Flesher who managed to conceal himself at the end of the line, he was shaking; his fair skin was burnished red. In a soothing voice, Darry assured Flesher, "There's no shame in a natural reaction to physical contact with a female during a genital examination."Hushing the other men, Darrie sent them into the shower, noting, "Go take care of what you came here to do."As the other men filtered out into the shower, Darrie called me over. "Mr.Flesher," she addressed him, maintaining eye contact, "Let me introduce Amy Warbler, our new Nursing Assistant. I need to report to Dr. Velour our boss that Nurse Warbler is fully capable of conducting exams on her own. Can you help me teach our Nurse Warbler the art of an intimate examination? It'll only take a sec. Then you can get hitched to the hitching post for release. That's what you came here for, right?"In practicing with Jerry, I pronounced, "Fourth, inspect the scrotum. Hmm," I interjected, "I get to keep hold of your joystick. Moving the penis out of the way, inspect all sides of the scrotum. Lift the scrotum to check its underside."In the locker, Darrie thanked Mr.Flesher, "Good! My examination will only take a couple more minutes before you're on your way to the hitching post, release and ecstasy."In my dry run with Jerry, I reached the Fifth stage "palpating," I interjected, "that's an inflated medical term for examining by touch, the testicles.""Inflated? That's an interesting word. Sounds like fun," Jerry's laughter went into the falsetto range when I pinched a testicle."With my thumbs and index fingers," I explained, "I roll the testes between the fingers to detect potential abnormalities. Feel along the duct work, the epididymis tube and the duct deferens which deliver the sperm for ejaculation.""Go easy," Jerry's voice ventured into the falsetto range."That wasn't so bad. Your examination is over," I advised Jerry, "You're free to have fun. Thank you for being such a good boy," I patted his tush, "for behaving yourself and cooperating." I turned my back on Jerry to take off my gloves and drop them in the bathroom."Free!" Jerry exclaimed. When I felt his hands gripping me. Lifted off my feet, I felt the pj bottoms slide away. Bent at the waist, I heard Jerry yell "I don't have to be good, no more, but it will be good."In the locker, Darrie concluded Flesher's examination. "Not so bad, was it? You passed your exam with flying colors," Darrie counselled Mr. Flesher, "You're dangling free. Go have fun with it!" As Flesher walked away, Dearie whispered, "never turn your back on a released donor."At home, Jerry exclaimed, "Time for fun." A wild expression cropped on his face. "The pump's been primed, the torrents will flow." I felt the warmth of his body nestle between the half-moons of my ass while his nimble fingers separated my vaginal lips. Then he hesitated."Go ahead. Fuck me." I ordered Jerry. Tease, denial and release, I wondered as I gasped when Jerry penetrated, was that the magic?Chapter 5: Nature of the AttractionIn my senior year in college, I worked several hours in the early morning before classes in a fertility clinic. It was part of my internship toward my degree in Industrial Psychology. In my rotation as a student intern in the clinic, I, through study and practical training, had earned a promotion out of maintenance into the Nursing Department as an assistant.Smart in her white lab coat and dark dress, Dr. Velour introduced the study to three nursing assistant candidates gathered in her office."We start our study with the male body because it is less complex, designed for an important, but momentary role in reproduction," Dr. Velour's word brought a ripple of giggling to the motley group of prospective nursing assistants."This is a business," Dr. Velour expounded, "We have to recruit livestock, groom their bodies, generate interest in purchasers, draw and refine the product and sell it. Initially, our question in dealing with the men, is what makes a man want to `bind his loins' in a cock-blocker, hitch his penis to a machine and discharge his seed into a hitching post? The answer at least initially is curiosity."I chuckled. Ever since I obtained this internship, my husband Jerry has beseeched me to sneak him in to test his equipment. Didn't I put out enough? I lay crunched up like a pretzel, hands bound behind my back with my bra, complaints squelched with panties in my mouth too often to think differently.It was hard to think of Jerry tied docilely to a hitching post at the Clinic to be jerked off. For foreplay, Jerry preferred wrestling me to the ground. Taken by surprise, forced face down, with Jerry strong hands tugging at the waistband of my jeans, I'd spur Jerry on by pleading, "Don't rip my clothes, Jerry. I don't get paid till next week."Was Jerry jealous or afraid my job involved physical contact with other men? No, Jerry was so curious so much so he wanted me to reenact the protocols in sperm extraction."You come to the clinic through different pathways, bringing different experiences to the study. Dr. Velour looked from student to student, "we have Amy, here, a student in Industrial Psychology at the local college. Perhaps with Amy's background in Industrial Psychology, she will develop a clearer idea the motivation of the persons involved in the people involved in the donation process. Amy?""My ugh-experience tells me curiosity is a good hypothesis," I replied. The room filled with chuckling, "Men are always looking for a new spot to anchor their spar in."When the laughter subsided, Dr. Velour pointed out a girl with muscular forearms and legs, "Next, we have Cassie. She's a gymnast who has been working in the gym; Pat," Dr. Velour pointed out a college girl like me, "a participant in our experiment in inducing the mammary glands to produce milk; and Beth," Dr. Velour pointed to a woman in her mid-thirties, "a surrogate.""Regardless of sex, however," Dr. Velour continued, "the brain is the largest sex organ. Oh, the body reacts to physical stimulation and once aroused can control the mind, but the mind creates the expectations in given situations.""Thus, because male body's function in reproduction is limited," Dr. Velour ex

Have you ever heard of worm grunting? Do you want to know how it works or why it works? Well this is the episode for you. Brenna takes us on weird but informative deep dive into the world of worm grunting. Larp with us at the Reckoning only ~10 tickets left (Hadrian empire) Subscribe to our Patreon Follow us on Instagram Listen to our sister podcast: History of Everything Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to the second of our legends episodes featuring all round good egg and friend of the pod Damian Hall! How have we ended up with the Barkley Bridesmaid himself spilling the beans on John Kelly's alleged sex noises? We do not know, but we have! In this incredible episode we talk to Damo about what it's like to be beaten by a girl, his hatred of mandatory kit and the glorious moment that Jasmin made history as well as the usual stuff you'd expect from us - plus we reveal some super cool news about our new sponsor! If you like this episode please leave a nice review and make sure you share it far and wide. All the links to get involved are here! Instagram: www.instagram.com/ultrasoundsystempod Playlist: https://bit.ly/ultrasoundsystemplaylist Email us: ultrasoundsystempod@gmail.com

(Editor's note: this episode was recorded before the passing of creator Akira Toriyama was announced to the public. We mourn the loss of one whose work has touched so many lives, and we will likely have more to say in the next episode.)"They're gonna be like those two little lesbian grandmas from The Ginch."This week on Destructo Discourse: Origins, we blast a hole clean through the King Piccolo Saga! We cover episodes 121-123 of the original hit anime, Dragon Ball as the fight between Goku and the Demon King reaches its climactic conclusion! Join us as we gaslight-gunkeep-girlboss our way onto the battlefield, read some Goku No Hero Academia, and witness the release of Piccolo's new hit single, Grunting 9 to 5.Has anyone seen my nyoibou?Your hosts this week are:Jayson, Matt, Melissa, TylerYou can also check out Tyler's other podcasts,What The FolklorePiece Meal

A Bridge of AdversityA 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The sky was still dark when they dragged Unami from her hut. A plump midwife, purring quietly, carried her newborn, Kra'ar, away while the hunters herded her up the steep ascent to the ancient temple. Unami was too exhausted from giving birth, too tired to bite and claw, so she let them do as they pleased.Through the great hall they went, empty save for the fire pit in the center and the twisted columns trying to stem the weight of the temple’s crumbling roof, down into a chamber she had never seen before. A singular oil lamp provided scant illumination, barely enough to see the carvings adorning every inch of the walls. Gaping maws, unblinking eyes leveling accusing stares, and half-formed limbs danced along the frieze.She clutched her aching belly and lashed the hunters to either side of her with an imperious stare. “Kra'ar needs me,” she growled. “I must feed my son.”Stone doors on the opposite side of the room opened, the towering slates scratching along the floor with some reluctance. Three elders emerged, their grayed whiskers and blunt snouts hidden behind ornate golden masks, their heads bloated and deformed by feathered headdresses. Long, colorful robes had been wrought around their slumping shoulders and withered groins.“What do you want from me at this hour?” Unami barked, masking her fear with feigned rage. She bared her teeth, a challenge rising in her throat. Her growl echoed off the carved walls. Unami slapped the hunters’ claws away and stood alone, shaking like a defiant, storm-tossed reed.“Silence!” one of the elders barked. The mask he wore was the sharp-beaked Condor, keen eyes and mighty wings. “Do you not grasp the gravity of your situation, whelp?”“Who do you call a whelp, you decrepit fossil?” Unami snarled. “I have just delivered my firstborn! I have seen the jungle! I have-”“You have stolen our sacred treasure and given it to an outsider!” the second elder roared. His mask showed the Serpent, venomous fangs and crushing strength. “Once they realize what can be found here, they will come and demand more and more! First they will bring honeyed words and lies, then they will bring warriors and weapons!”“Ha!” Unami spat. “First they would have to cross the jungle. Don’t you teach that only the strong, only the hunters can brave the hostile wilderness? How many outsiders will perish on the journey? How many of them will be able to even lift a weapon if they even find us? How many will be able to stand against our fierce warriors?”“Insolent child,” the third elder hissed. He wore a skull, the guise of Death Inevitable. “Traditions and rules have a reason. Your reckless actions prove why not every member of the tribe can be a hunter. Strength has to be tempered by wisdom, fury tempered by mercy. Your brash disregard of the rules clearly shows you are nothing more than a foolish whelp still, unfit to walk among the adults!”“I have followed the rules. I came back to give the tribe another hunter. What else do you want from me?”“Kra'ar will be well-fed and taken care of,” Condor proclaimed. “But your penance has only just begun.”“Normally we would bind you in stones and drown you in the swamp, as befits a lowly thief,” Condor said.“But the volcano’s awakening has roused The Sleeper,” Serpent said. “Someone has to placate him. This is a task for a woman. You have been chosen as penance for your transgression.”“What? No. I will go into exile. I will return to Aelric! I want to see the frozen water come from the sky!” Unami howled.“I am afraid you won’t leave the temple, foolish, insolent child,” Death Inevitable whispered. “Giving birth to a hunter does not absolve your sins. It is your solemn duty to the tribe. But if you can placate The Sleeper, all will be forgiven.”“All will be forgiven,” the other two rumbled. Condor bowed his head and the hunters grasped her shivering arms.“Placate The Sleeper? I am no priestess!” Unami wailed. “What am I to do?”Death Inevitable crossed the chamber, reaching into the gaping maw of a hideous stone effigy. His paw depressed the sculpted tongue within and the floor opened before her like a ravenous maw.“Deliver her,” Serpent said, motioning for the pit. The air wafting from the orifice smelled wrong. Sweet and thick was the scent, causing her ravaged sex to weep in heat.The hunters first dragged, then shoved her forwards. Unami stumbled into the pit and fell. Like every member of the tribe she knew how to fall, even if her weakened body was slow and clumsy. Instead of breaking her legs, she curled up into a ball and dropped onto a slope of smooth stone. There were no holds, no purchase for her claws or scrabbling feet. Unami slid frantically into the lightless depths underneath the temple. Above her, the floor rumbled closed.The slope curled downward like the blasted serpent before delivering her into a lightless space that she judged huge by the sound of emptiness. The sweet stench was thicker here. Her teats ached and her sex seemed to overflow. Her breath threw shuddering echoes from the far walls.Blind like a newborn, Unami pawed on all fours, trying to earn a feel for this space. The floor was made from stone, large, regular tiles neatly fitted. The tip of her tail still touched the slope and there was no wall in easy reach. She took another step. Her paw landed on a bone. Unami gritted her teeth. She would not grant the elders the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She pulled the bone closer. It was long and stout. It would make a fine club.There was a soft noise ahead, a shy rustling.A grim smile stole onto Unami’s lips. If there were animals down here, they would probably be as blind as she was and easily hunted. At least she wouldn’t starve.“Come, come, little ratty,” Unami sang. “Mother has need of you.”The rustling came again, closer now. Using her sensitive ears, Unami aimed and swung the bone with murderous intent.There was swift movement, a powerful whiff of that sticky, sweet air. The cudgel hit the floor with crushing force and splintered into a thousand pieces like a hollowed twig.More rustling. Four, five sounds of movement at once. Unami bared her claws and teeth. How many rats were there?Something long and serpentine curled around her leg. It was soft and wet and moved with shocking speed, coiling around her calf and knee.Then came a jolt and she was unceremoniously dropped on her back. All Unami could do was to protect her head by twisting her spine and curling up as best she could. The impact cracked a few ribs and her elbows.Gasping in the thick, clingy vapors, she slapped at the soft, writhing tissue grasping her leg. Another tendril came, slick and wet and it curled around her other leg. With inexorable force, they pried her thighs apart. Shrieking, Unami clamped both hands over her gaping sex - to no avail. Another tendril came, binding her wrists and yanking her hands aside with contemptuous ease.She wasn’t sure if the fall had rocked her head or if she really heard it, but there was a low, growling noise. It grew louder and louder, mounting in front of her. She couldn’t see! She could only hear the noise, writhe as the tendrils slithered over her. No, not over, but into her! One, then two invaded her, probing at her ravaged insides.The gurgling stopped on a strange note. For one breathless moment Unami thought to hear a wordless question. The disgusting tendrils withdrew from her insides, leaving her spread open and shivering in the chamber’s rank air.Then the noise returned, loud and angry and so very close.A mighty weight settled onto her helpless body, covering her feet, legs, belly, chest and finally her snout. She sank her teeth into soft, warm tissue, tearing long, weeping gashes into malleable flesh. The noise changed as hitherto closed orifices gaped, adding a horrific wheezing to the cacophony.Unami added her own incoherent screams as acid poured from numerous maws, burning her limbs, dissolving her helpless body until nothing remained but a sweet-smelling puddle of goo.The Sleeper lapped at it, a satisfied purr echoing off the walls.Shala’s patience grew thin. What hope of finding Kelgore had she if these fools that carried her fell victim to some easily avoided calamity and left her stranded in this gods-forsaken wilderness?She had tumbled from the whore’s back as the claws of a dead man seized the crude pack full of carrion and tore it away. She could not see how her captors fared against the undead horde until the fop had knocked her aside to hastily gather the scattered meat and supplies.The buffoon’s man and the traitor both fell to the horde of corpses that had dragged themselves from the haunted swamp. Shala feared for a moment that all of her captors might perish and leave her stranded in the mud. But the whore fought bravely and well. With axe and sword she hacked a path through the grasping hands of the hungry dead. The fop followed in her wake and the buffoon held a lackluster rearguard.Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and plucked her out of the muck by her hair. The leather strap that secured her gag shifted, but only slightly.It would have been so easy to turn back the horde with just the right words of power and a bit of fire and flesh. But it would require hands that Shala did not yet have.She watched as the buffoon’s sword lodged in the ribs of a flanking corpse and the thing reached for him with rotting hands. She tried to scream in furious protest as the impudent fool swung her like a flail, slamming her skull against the head of the accursed ghoul. Through some intervention of the fate spinners, the impact knocked her gag askew.Working her tongue and jaw, Shala was finally able to spit out the shard of wood and let the leather strap fall away, just as the buffoon tucked her up under his arm.Shala nearly cried out at the insolence, but then she caught a tantalizing whiff of blood. There was a gash on the buffoon’s arm. The blood coagulated against her cheek, but her tongue could not reach. She was jostled in his grip as the buffoon ran limping after his companions, stumbling and fumbling blindly through the jungle boscage. Bit by bit she shifted until she could press her thin lips right to the wound, and taste the ferric tang on her tongue.“You can stop now,” Shala called out, once she had lapped her fill of the buffoon’s essence. “Do you hear me? You’ve fled beyond the reach of the dead.”“And why should we believe you?” asked the whore, panting. Before Shala could answer, the whore added “Joras, find another gag.”“Because if you die then I am abandoned out here. Do you think this is how I wish to end my existence? Lying in the muck, helpless as the scavengers pick at my flesh until nothing is left? My only chance at life is if you reunite me with my son. While you may well choose to slay me once my usefulness is done, I’ll take a slim chance over no chance at all, and help you where I can.”The fop scoffed. “And what help can a disembodied witch offer?”“While you dithered at a crossroads, I felt the jungle life fade away before the great predator that stalked you. And you ignored my warnings,” Shala spat.“I alone recognized the rancid scent of death tinged with the ozone of magic and knew the undead were nearby. But again you ignored me and two of your number paid for your negligence with their lives. How many more will die because a reckless whore refuses to heed my counsel?”“Your point is made,” the whore growled. “There is no need for more insults.”“Oh, do my words hurt your poor little pride? Perhaps you’d feel better if you were gagged and hauled around like chattel.” The whore glowered at her, but did not retort. “I have eyes to see and senses attuned to powers from beyond the veil. Give me a mouth to speak and heed my counsel and your chances of living to find Kelgore will improve! You’ve lost two pairs of eyes already. Are you so foolish as to throw away a third?”“I don’t trust it or its counsel,” the whore said. Being referred to so coarsely would have raised the bile in Shala’s throat, if she had bile, or more than an inch of throat. She let the insult pass.“Neither do I,” agreed the buffoon. “But I have known many men I did not trust, and I have never known it to be a lie when a man says ‘I want to live’.”“Our resources are few enough,” the fop agreed. “I don’t think we’d be any worse off if she betrays us.”“Fine,” agreed the whore through gritted teeth. “But if you lead us into danger, I shall smash you with a rock before I die. Understood?”“Agreed." Shala swallowed her pride."Unless our new advisor knows of a safer camp, I think we should get some rest,” the whore decided. “Joras, skin our dinner. Ambrose, see if you can spark a fire. I’ll gather you some wood. Shala…” she paused as if it pained her to speak the words. “You’re on watch.”In the distance, from every direction, the drums continued.In the chamber above The Sleeper’s lair, Condor sighed. “One malnourished whelp won’t do, you know?”Death Inevitable touched his golden forehead. “The Sleeper is mightily displeased indeed. Unami was but a morsel for it.”“At least his hunger will be sated for the moment,” Serpent muttered. “We might find a bit of respite tonight.”Together, the elders returned to the great hall. The rumble of the drums was loud and clear, reverberating from the walls.Condor cocked his head. “A hunting party returns. They have brought an outsider.”“Fortunate tidings indeed,” Serpent said, a smile in his voice. “The Sleeper might feast again shortly.”“Let us see what the hunters have brought then,” Death Inevitable purred. “Hopefully this new sacrifice will send The Sleeper back to sleep. I dread the day when the temple and the offerings can’t contain its might no longer. The Sleeper might devour reality itself.”“If it is an outsider woman, we should avail ourselves of her services before tossing her into the Pit,” Condor said. “To make sure The Sleeper will be properly serviced, of course.”Chuckling softly, the elders headed for the exit, eager to meet their next sacrifice.As dawn broke, they strode into the village. Hunters prepared for another expedition into the jungle, sharpening their spears or wrapping rations. Passing females, their young scurrying between their feet, offered bows of respect. The midwife clutched Unami’s newborn to her bosom, allowing the pale blond whelp to suck at her teat.“Let’s hope the outsider was strong,” Death Inevitable muttered. “His offspring looks disgusting, so pale.”“We will see in a few years’ time,” Serpent said. “Ah, there they are.” He gestured towards a tangle of tribesmen, clustered around the hunting party. Adults and whelps alike muttered among themselves.“As if they’ve seen an outsider for the first time,” Death Inevitable murmured. “How different can they be?”The knot of tribesmen split, allowing the elders their first glance at the outsider. He stood unbound, surrounded by three hunters who gazed upon him in open admiration. The fourth, a female, had her tail raised high, the scent of her cunt announcing to all downwind how desperate in need of a thorough railing she was. The outsider was odd. Too scrawny to be a warrior, he nonetheless bore himself with the stance of a chieftain. What little fur he wore on his head was long, slick and the color of night. But most odd were his eyes, featureless black orbs of night. He raised his voice, speaking the strange words of the outsiders. None understood the strange syllables he used, but all felt the power radiating through his voice. It commanded their full attention. Transfixed, the elders, the tribesmen, the women and whelps watched, their gazes fixed on the strange man. Each one of them he bathed in his obsidian gaze and one by one they became his unquestioning servants. Not even the Sleeper could help them now.“Stop it!” Ambrose screamed into the night. “Stop the fucking drumming all day and all fucking night. Just fucking stop it!”The distant drum beat continued unabated by the outburst. The sonorous rhythm had followed them from the beach, through the jungle, surrounding them, moving with them like the stench of a beggar. They had tried more than once to follow the sound and find one of the natives, but always the drum they approached fell silent and a distant drum joined the chorus.“What do you want?!” Ambrose continued, stalking from one edge of their campfire light to the other, yelling into the darkness at the top of his voice. “Do you want us to go? Do you want us to follow? We don’t know what the drums mean! We use words! Do you hear me? Words! Show yourselves and tell us what you want! Kill us or capture us if you must, but for the love of all that is holy, stop the gods-damned drumming!”His injured foot throbbed. His whole body ached. Nicks and cuts and lacerations bedeviled his face and arms after being thrashed through the underbrush by that slavering beast. The midges and mites of the swamp had fed on him mercilessly and if it hadn’t been for Tsonia and Joras, the shambling dead would have finished him, just as they had poor Montu and Sethos. Ambrose was a man of the sea. The perils of this mad and alien landscape perturbed his senses and flustered his wits.“It’s not even good drumming, damn it!” Ambrose saw Tsonia and Joras scowling in the firelight at his agitated pacing. He didn’t know if his ranting had awakened them, or if they like he had laid awake, unable to sleep with the constant racket. “A poxy toddler banging on his mother’s pot with a spoon can come up with a more inventive rhythm! But not you lot, no! Your primitive fucking brains can’t come up with anything more original than just bum bum bum over and over and over again and again and again!”He grabbed up a heavy stick from their dwindling pile of firewood and banged it back and forth in a forked tree trunk, bang, bang, bang, in time to the distant drums’ cadence.“You hear that? Huh? How do you like it? How about if I keep it up all fucking night so you can’t sleep?”“Peace, Ambrose,” Joras implored, rising to soothe his friend’s discomfiture. “This raving does no good and it wastes the vitality you’ll want for tomorrow.”“I don’t care!” Ambrose screamed, and continued to beat the tree trunk. “I don’t fucking care anymore. I want them to stop or to show themselves or to attack us or something! Anything! Anything but this infernal drumming! It makes me wish I had drowned, Joras! I would rather die with the sound of the sea in my ears than live another hour beset by this ceaseless racket.”“I know it’s trying,”“Trying!? It’s maddening! This whole damn place is maddening!” Ambrose’s arm gave out at last and he let fall the stave from his hand even as he collapsed to his knees with a sob of exasperation. “Why won’t you stop!?” he cried again into the darkness. "Why won’t you show yourselves!?“"You are loud,” grunted a coarse voice in the simple words of the Trade Tongue used among sailors. Into the firelight stepped a tall native, his mottled green fur broken in places by ancient scars. His hands, though tipped with razor sharp claws, were empty, and held out in a gesture of parley.Tsonia, lithe as a panther, came to her feet with blade in hand, ready to smite the intruder. The towering, beast-headed native dodged and came to face Tsonia, still empty-handed. A leather bandolier bisected his broad chest. Spears and a pack rested on his back while a woven cord around his waist was hung with pouches, a sling and dagger and a simple loincloth.“We will fight,” he growled. “First, I will make the drums quiet for your loud friend.”The fire-haired warrior stayed her blade, curious to see what the newcomer would do next. “Slow,” she told him, speaking the same pidgin trade language. “I am watching.”The native bared his fangs, his ears perking up. Tsonia wasn’t sure if he was threatening her or if that was the stranger’s idea of a grin. Slowly, he reached for the pack he had slung over his back and placed it on the ground in front of him.“Watch,” the stranger said, kneeling. He opened a flap and pulled a small drum from his pack, which he struck in a certain rhythm, bam, bam, rap. He repeated the cadence, then again. And around them, the drums echoed the new beat, and fell silent. In the distance, the sonorous rumble continued, but in their immediate vicinity, there was nothing but the wind rustling in the trees and the occasional chirp of surprised nighttime birds.“What did you, say?” Joras asked, intrigued. Next to him, Ambrose sighed. The exhausted sailor settled down with his back against a tree, and despite his curiosity his head fell onto his chest almost immediately.The native offered Joras the same strange visage, open jaws and hanging tongue. “I found what I want. I need quiet to, see, watch, find,” he seemed to be searching for a word.“Hunt?" Joras asked, backing away from the beastman."Yes. Hunt.” the stranger agreed. “They are quiet. They will listen.”“Hunt, eh?” Tsonia sneered. “Will you, make us sick with, small spears?” She held up a finger and thumb spaced about two inches apart to show how small the darts were. Tsonia also struggled to find appropriate words in a vocabulary meant for trade and barter, but she lowered neither her guard nor the sword.The stranger sank onto his haunches, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the campfire. “No small spears. I am proud. I do not hunt with small spears.”“Your people are not proud two yesterdays,” Tsonia growled. The Trade Tongue didn’t concern itself with such lofty concepts as the past or the future. It was a language for discussing the here and now. “They hunt me with small spears by the good water. They make me sick.”“My tribe who hunt are not smart two yesterdays. Many outsiders come to our beaches and cannot leave again over many moons. My tribe thinks you are weak and not smart, like the other outsiders.”So they were not the first sailors to be marooned on these shores, Tsonia realized. Clearly the native had learned the Trade Tongue from somewhere, so castaways must be fairly common. It did not bode well for them that none had ever returned to tell the story of this place.The stranger hissed several times in quick succession. Maybe a laugh?“You kill two of my tribe. They know they made a mistake so they choose to hunt easy outsiders.” His eyes roamed over Tsonia and she could hear his satisfied purr. “I hunt you.”Tsonia raised an eyebrow. “Me?”“Two of my tribe are dead. I want, the death price.”Tsonia sighed. He wanted revenge for the two natives she had killed. The stranger before her was no savage. He obviously had intelligence and honor, perhaps even wisdom. But she didn’t have the vocabulary to explain such a complex situation, much less negotiate a peaceful solution.“Joras, you’re better with words than I,” she said in their native Thelyrian. “Tell him I killed two of his kind while driven half mad by their poison in my veins. Ask him why he thinks he can beat me now when I have my wits fully about me.”There was a struggle over words as Joras and the stranger exchanged the terms they knew and agreed to what they meant. Tsonia was beginning to regret involving her friend in the conversation. As her patience grew thin, he seemed to be enjoying the give and take and the accomplishment of finally conveying the whole idea.Again, the stranger laughed. “I watch you yesterday and two yesterdays, fire-hair. I watch you fight. I watch you walk far. You are tired, so I offer a bargain.”“Kaela…” Joras implored in Thelyrian, his voice laden with dread. “Don’t do anything foolish, please.”“I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.” Tsonia snorted in exasperation. “Are you blaming me for our misery too?”“I would never-” Joras began.“Let him talk then,” Tsonia snapped. “And don’t call me Kaela in front of everyone!”The stranger placed his clawed hand upon his chest. “I am called T'pek.” His voice, although struggling with the Trade Tongue, had a formal, almost ritualistic tone about it.Tsonia bowed her head. “I am called Red Tsonia. What do you offer?”“I ask you to fight, Red Tsonia. You owe me two hunters.”“You-kill-me is not equal to two hunters. They will not live if I die,” Tsonia said. It was another hard concept to convey, but she’d be damned if she was going to let Joras spend all night trying to negotiate poetically. “I see, a fight for pride, is a waste. A waste for me. A waste for you.”T'pek bared his fangs again. “We will fight. If I win, you will be, my tribe.” T'pek immediately waved away that idea as if it wasn’t exactly what he meant to say. “Just my tribe,” he amended, thumping his own chest.“Mate?” offered Joras. It was a Vizangian word that had made it into the Trade Tongue and was used to refer to any woman a man had sex with, be she joined by holy ritual, or just a concubine, slave, or whore.“Yes!” T'pek agreed. "Mate. You will be my mate. We will make strong children. My tribe will get more than two hunters.“A laugh escaped Tsonia’s lips. "You are too proud, T'pek. You are too proud of your fighting skill and your fucking skill. What will I get if you lose?”“I do not insult you, but you are slow and loud. You walk like blind and deaf children. You see bad signs but you still go forward. You risk weak people.” T'pek nodded towards battered, blissfully snoring Ambrose. “I offer that I will lead you and be smart for you, And I will also give you children.” He caressed his loincloth.Tsonia laughed again, a full-bellied sound of unbridled mirth. “You are smart. If you lose, you still fuck me. Is that right?”“A good hunter is strong and smart,” T'pek said with that uncanny grin.“Your tribe, Where do they take 'easy’ outsiders?” Tsonia asked. “What do they do with him?”“My tribe take your outsiders to our village. The leaders decide outsiders’ fate.” T'pek shook his head.“How many outsiders go to your leaders?” Joras interjected. “What do they say to your leaders?”“Some want to trade. Some are held to work. Some breed. Some fight.”“The unlucky ones are tossed into the swamp,” Tsonia added darkly in Thelyrian. Her brow creased in thought. “If I win, you will lead us to your village. You will teach us about your tribe and the village.”“Yes." Said T'pek."If I lose, I will be your mate, right?”An eager nod set T'pek’s mane aflutter.“Will I stay here,” Tsonia indicated their campsite with a sweep of her hand, “until I make children?”“No,” T'pek said with emphasis. “You will be my mate in the village. My people will take care of you. I will protect you and love you.”“If I lose, will they stay here?” she asked, indicating Joras and Ambrose.“I will take them to the village,”“For our fate to be decided by some chieftain or shaman or council we have no knowledge of?” Joras interrupted in Thelyrian. He sought Tsonia’s gaze. A flicker of dread was clearly visible. “I have a bad feeling about this.”The fire-haired warrior rose to her feet and planted her sword into the ground. “We have a deal, T'pek. How will we settle our fight? I will not be your mate if I am dead. You will not lead us if you are dead.”“No,” T'pek agreed, undoing his cord and placing the dagger, sling and pouches atop his pack. “We will stop when one of us is not proud and says 'stop’. Your people will know the agreement.”“'Yield’ is the word you want,” Tsonia said, watching the beastman strip away his kit. “We will stop when you yield or I yield.”“Yield." T'pek nodded his agreement and unknotted his loincloth, letting his manhood hang free."I believe he means to distract me by waving his lance in my face,” Tsonia joked to Joras in Thelyrian.“Yes, well, it’s distracting me quite nicely,” he agreed.“You show weakness there,” Tsonia pointed to T'pek’s naked crotch. His face scrunched into a look that Tsonia interpreted as indignation and realized he had taken her warning as an insult to his masculinity. “No, no, no,” she waved in correction and sought a better word. “Soft? Um, bad fight place?”Comprehension dawned on T'pek’s face and he snorted. “I will have no burden. Nothing to grab. Children of my tribe learn to fight with nothing.” His grappling gesture put Tsonia in mind of the formalized wrestling that was taught in the Green Cities. "Only fur. Belts hold tools. Packs hold food and water. They are bad for fighting.“So these people fought their duels of honor naked. It wasn’t a totally foreign concept. There were stories of great heroes from ages past who also dueled in the nude. It certainly ensured that neither party carried any hidden weapons.Tsonia pulled off her tattered chain hauberk with a resigned sigh. "Why have clothes at all then?” she asked, gesturing to the discarded loincloth lying on the ground in the firelight.T'pek’s gaze roamed over her rosy skin like a lover’s caress. He barked with mirth. “Soft,” he said, gesturing to his groin. “Weak. Sharp plants and rocks and bugs are bad. But Red Tsonia is good. It is strong for Red Tsonia.”“You are too proud, T'pek,” she smirked.Tsonia’s chain skirt hit the ground with the soft rattling of metal on packed earth. She tossed her armor at Joras’ feet and began to circle the camp site, taking the muscular native’s measure as he fell into step opposite her. He was taller than her, with wider shoulders and longer arms. Some earlier fight had left his chest and shoulder marked with ghastly scars, the otherwise lustrous fur refused to fully grow back there. Her lips curled into a playful grin as her gaze wandered lower, over his fur-covered abdomen and towards his groin. The fur was almost black there, long and shaggy and nowhere enough to cover a prodigious member which proudly curved towards his navel. His oddly bent legs didn’t seem to hinder his movement one bit and his sinuously weaving tail allowed him to easily keep balance.“If you want the death price for your tribe, you will fight me,” Tsonia remarked. “If you just look at me and I just look at you, we will not fight all night.” A smile flickered across her lips. “Or would you like to just look at me?” She caressed one of her breasts.The next moment, T'pek was on her, effortlessly closing the distance in one ferocious leap. His bulk tore Tsonia off her feet and together they crashed to the ground. Strong hands closed around her arm, one above and below the elbow each and when the world stopped spinning, Tsonia was face down in the dirt, with T'pek’s clawed foot between her shoulder blades and her arm bent at a very uncomfortable angle.She had clearly underestimated her opponent’s speed and reach, but he didn’t know any of her true strength either. Tsonia bucked, hard, unbalancing T'pek. For a heartbeat, his grip on her arm waned and she rolled, tearing her arm free, not caring if his claws tore open her back or the arm creaked in its socket. The sharp jabs of pain, if anything, only fuelled her battle-lust.In the time it took T'pek to regain his balance, Tsonia came to her feet. She was upon him, a blur of fists and kicks as she employed every trick she had gleaned from the fist-fighters in the Xhastrian coliseums. T'pek blocked some of her blows, took others with merely a grunt of annoyance and countered others. If he pulled any punches, Tsonia didn’t notice.One blow hit her clavicle, cracking it with the sickening sound of bone on bone. T'pek grunted, shaking out his rattled fist. Tsonia dove in, landing a solid hit to his gut which sent T'pek stumbling backwards.“Lift me up higher,” she heard Shala jeer. “I can’t see a damn thing!”“Shush you,” Joras muttered. “Don’t make this any more awkward.”Shala’s gleeful cackling gave T'pek pause. His eyes widened in horror as he beheld the disembodied head, held aloft by a disgusted Joras. Tsonia pressed her advantage, following up her attack with a furious shoulder charge.T'pek’s tail slapped across her breasts, leaving a stinging line of fire across them. Tsonia, not even fazed by the attack, barreled into him with enough force to spill both of them to the ground again. She pinned T'pek’s arms to the ground with her knees, her forearm firmly lodged under his maw, pressing hard against his throat.“Yield,” Tsonia hissed, putting her weight onto her arm. T'pek’s maw hung open, his tongue lolling to one side, his eyes rolling madly in their sockets. Suddenly, there was a soft sensation writhing between her thighs, tickling her sex. Tsonia’s hand flashed downwards, closing around T'pek’s nimble tail. Her tight grip elicited a hoarse yelp from the prone beastkin. Too late she realized how much of an advantage she had squandered. T'pek growled, fighting against her weight into a sitting position. Tsonia evaded a vicious head-butt by rolling backwards.Gasping, she came to her feet. T'pek followed suit, albeit a bit slower.“You, are strong,” he gasped. “You are tired, from two yesterdays, but you are strong. How?”“It will take more than a primeval forest and some rotting dead to wear me down,” Tsonia snarled in Thelyrian, then added for T'pek “You are not weak, T'pek, but not strong like me. Do you yield?”“No,” the beastkin growled something else in his own language, shaking his head in defiance. “I will make you yield!” He raised his fists.“Many people try to make me yield,” she spat. “All have failed.”“I will be the first,” T'pek roared, pouncing again.This time, Tsonia was ready. As he came flying, jaws open, hands ready to grasp and wrestle, she intercepted him. One hand caught his wrist, just behind his splayed claw, the other dug into the thick fur by his loins. Her demonic blood roared as Tsonia redirected his momentum, sending T'pek crashing to the ground back first. Breath exploded from the stunned beastkin in a hollow bark. Tsonia didn’t wait for him to recover, instead she mounted his hips, trapping his throbbing lance between them and pinning his arms to the ground with brute strength.“Yield,” Tsonia gasped. His lance underneath her was already drenched and she had to force herself from grinding herself against its searing heat.“No,” T'pek growled, trying to raise his arms. He could have tried to uproot a tree with his gaze alone, the effect was much the same.“Yield, you oaf,” Tsonia snarled. In Thelyrian she added “I could break your bones like rotted driftwood if I so desired.”“I am proud. I will not,” T'pek gasped as Tsonia ground herself against him, a languid, lust-driven roll of her full hips.“But you are worthless to me as a cripple,” Tsonia purred, then in the simple Trade Tongue she said “If I yield and you yield, we both get what we really want.” She reached backwards, guiding his shaft. Her sex swallowed his tip eagerly. T'pek’s breath caught in his throat as she claimed the full length of his spear.Tsonia’s voracious appetite, never easy to sate, had grown tremendously during their weeks at sea without any privacy and no suitable lovers. She had pondered asking Ambrose for a rowing slave or three, but even she knew how much trouble that could cause in the volatile confines of a warship. Not even pleasuring herself was an option, not with dozens of eager men devouring her every move. Not that she minded an audience, but again, the discipline aboard and the hope of finding and apprehending Kelgore had been more important than her own pleasure. Now, with T'pek writhing under her, she could finally indulge! She pushed herself away from him, only to reclaim his monstrous pole in a slow, breath-stealing descent.T'pek’s growl was the only warning she got. Too late Tsonia realized that she had relinquished her death grip on his wrists, to play with her tits and finger her clit as she rode his massive shaft.“No!” the beastman snarled. His claws slid under her ass and he pushed her away.“No?” Tsonia gasped, coming to her knees.“My tribe do not fuck this way,” T'pek growled, towering over her, his glistening shaft pointing at her.Tsonia glared at him. “What-?” she began, but T'pek was on her again, forcing her onto hands and knees. Before Tsonia could even protest his rough handling, his teeth clamped onto her shoulder, his clawed hands carved furrows into her hips as he roughly adjusted her position.Tsonia relaxed, anticipating what would happen next. T'pek did not disappoint. His bulbous tip forced her rosy curtains apart and in one fell swoop, he buried his sword to the hilt in her, his hot breath and spittle pouring down her shoulder. Tsonia wailed as he pounded into her, but it was no cry of pain, the demonic cock of Q'alan had more than seasoned her nethers. If anything, T'pek’s proud lance was a potent reminder of what she had been missing ever since the God-King had tasked her with finding and killing Kelgore.“Yes,” Tsonia growled, pushing back her hips on his next thrust. T'pek grunted with the effort of keeping her pinned beneath him, his spear slashing deep into her hungry tunnel. His claws found her breast, roughly kneading her supple flesh. Another wail tore from her lips, once more she pushed back against him. Blissful release tore through her already and every thrust only heightened her delirious ecstasy.“More!” Tsonia howled, answering each of T'pek’s thrusts with a roll of her hips. His furry sack slapped against her with blistering abandon each time he bottomed out. Hot blood trickled down her shoulder, his teeth sunk deep into her flesh.Tsonia tossed back her head, jubilating at the pain, the pleasure tearing through her body. T'pek’s tail slapped her ass, the squirming appendage caressing the valley between her cheeks like a second phallus. His paw mauled her breasts, but she only spurred him on with wordless moans and grunts. Another climax tore through her.Tsonia reared up, heedless of T'pek’s considerable bulk, heedless of his teeth sunk into her shoulder. She needed all of his delicious cock, buried deep within her hungry cunt!T'pek suddenly opened his jaws, his shockingly large tongue lapping at the bloody gashes his teeth had dug. He whined in surprise as the black blood oozing from the wounds seared his tongue.Tsonia rode him like a woman possessed, driving herself onto his shaft for all she was worth. Their bodies made lewd, slapping and squishing sounds as they collided.Suddenly, T'pek slammed his hands upon her hips and pinned her in place, his breath coming in unnaturally quick gasps. And then he erupted, spewing burst after burst of hot, sticky seed into Tsonia, filling her up to bursting and then more, leaking from their union in thick rivulets, dripping down into the ravaged earth.For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of rasping breath and the occasional drip of thick liquid spattering on the ground.Then Shala raised her voice. “I hope you had your fun, whore. Can we go find my son now?”Ambrose groaned as the light of the relentless morning sun attacked his eyes. He sat up and blinked, trying to dislodge the grit caking his eyelids. The drums, although not entirely gone, had at least quieted down and were more akin to the volcano’s distant rumblings than the oppressive, maddening drone which had almost broken him. Joras slept behind him, the artist’s arm a soothing weight on his waist. Ambrose pushed some of Joras’ locks from his angelic face and breathed a kiss of thanks onto his prickly cheek.“Good morning.” The voice was Shala’s, a mirthless, venomous rasp. Her head rested on a tree stump nearby. “Please don’t start another round of fornication. I was forced to behold entirely too much of it last night.” She made a disgusted sound. “Just look at them. Animals, truly." Her tongue came out, a shriveled lump of flesh, and pointed to the side.Ambrose gently moved Joras’ arm and gazed in the indicated direction. On the other side of the stump, curled into a tangle of limbs, were Tsonia and a monstrous being, naked both and obviously spent. The newcomer had a bestial snout resting on her shoulder, a powerful paw cupped her ample breast. Tsonia had a satisfied grin on her features and the stranger’s cock wedged between her ass cheeks."Can you believe it? They had me keep watch the entire time.” Shala gnashed her teeth. “Twice I had to endure their vulgar rutting. After that, hours of boredom. If I had my hands back I would throttle that whore!”The stranger raised his head, alert eyes meeting Ambrose’s. “Explain why the head talks,” he growled. “And why you keep such a thing.” He looked down to Tsonia’s shoulder. Faint bite marks marred her otherwise fair skin. “She tastes like poison and death,” the stranger said, his fur bristling. “Why?”“I have questions of my own,” Ambrose said, his hand inching towards his cane. He doubted he would be a match for the stranger’s prowess, but he felt better with a weapon at the ready. “Who are you? What do you want from us?”“I am T'pek, the hunter,” the stranger said. “I came to challenge fire-hair. Tsonia.”“And then the whore allowed the beast to breed her. Twice at least,” Shala added.“How did I miss that?” Ambrose asked.Stories about Tsonia’s amorous exploits were as numerous and outlandish as those of her prowess on the field of battle. He chuckled softly, knowing at least one of them to be true. It involved him, Tsonia and Joras after all.That particular tale ended with the fire-haired vixen spurned and furious after she caught Ambrose and Joras, naked, sweaty and curled around each other after an afternoon of lovemaking in a nameless pirate inn. She had been so obsessed with sating her own desires, so fixated on bedding Ambrose that she did not, for one moment, consider that Joras’ classical beauty and his youthful body were much more to his liking than Tsonia’s carelessly presented curves.T'pek rose, his muscular frame easily towering above sitting Ambrose. With enviable grace, the beastkin crossed the small clearing they had chosen as their camp site and dug into a pile of gear. Carrying a small bundle in his paw, he returned to the stump and knelt down next to Ambrose.The captain forced himself to look anywhere but the stranger’s groin. He had to admit, T'pek’s form, though alien to his sensibilities, exuded power and virility he would find utterly irresistible under other circumstances. After all, curiosity was a prized trait in any explorer.T'pek offered the bundle. It was wound in thick, crimson leaves, with pale yellow and white ribs. The smell emanating from it was at the same time mouth-watering and stomach-churning.“Do I want to eat that?” Ambrose asked, a tad suspiciously.“Yes. Eat. You are hurt. It will help.” T'pek nudged the bundle into his hand.“He might be lying,” Shala spat in Xhastrian. “You and Joras are of no concern to him. All he cares for is-”The hunter turned on his heels, claws out. A dangerous, low growl escaped T'pek’s throat. The undead witch closed her mouth, spearing the beastkin with baleful glares instead.“What does it say?” asked T'pek, circling Shala’s perch as if looking for just the right angle to punt her into the treetops.“Treachery and insults that will get her smashed with a rock and then burned to ash if she isn’t careful,” Ambrose chastised Shala. To T'pek he said “She says bad words about you. Bad words about Tsonia.”“The bad words it says have no use. Why keep it?” T'pek asked again.“Uh, magic. Strong magic,” Ambrose said. He was well acquainted with the words of trade on his tongue, but they were usually spoken across a table over tankards of wine, or between two ships lashed together in the open sea, or between merchant caravans meeting at a crossroads. Hearing the words, simple and ineloquent as they were, spoken by the beastial newcomer gave him a disquieting sensation along the length of his spine. “She promised to bring us home with magic. If we find the man she wants,” he continued, fighting to keep a straight face. The bundle’s scent was becoming utterly vile the longer he held it.“Do you trust it?”Ambrose sighed. “We have no ship. We cannot build one. We can wait many many tomorrows and moons for a ship to come. Or we can gamble.” He wasn’t certain how to express the concept of 'Hope’ in the simple Trade Tongue so in his own words, to settle his own mind, he added. “I’ll take a little hope over no hope at all.”“We gamble,” he concluded to T'pek.Gathering all his courage, he bit into the bundle. Rancid juices poured into his mouth. Strange clumps of an alien texture were borne on that vile torrent, their taste unfathomable. Coughing, he dropped the morsel, trying to wipe sticky remains from his lips. They burned as if touched by Thelyrian devil’s peppers.“Are you trying to kill me?” he snarled, raising his cane. T'pek shook his head and left him, sputtering and close to retching.Joras stirred next to him, no doubt roused by his violent hacking. Tsonia woke up too, disheveled but alert. Her gaze swept the campsite. When she spotted no immediate danger, she fussed about the stains and dirt caking her naked skin. Eventually, she sighed and stood.“I will bring water,” she said, grabbing the water skins. “Good water is not far.”“I will lead you,” T'pek offered. “The jungle is hungry in the morning.”“Not as hungry as his appetite for her cunt,” Shala muttered to their backs, already halfway across the clearing. Aloud she said: “If you wanted succor for your injuries, sailor, you had but to ask. I can easily restore your lost vigor.”“The price will be higher than you’d wish to pay, Ambrose,” Joras warned, then turned to the witch’s severed head. “Besides, don’t you need hands to work your magic?”“Small minds ask stupid questions,” Shala sighed dramatically. “Not every spell requires elaborate gesticulation. Sometimes a sip of blood and a few well-chosen words are all that is needed to weave the powers of the ether into a useful tapestry.”“Do you trust her?” Joras asked, the second time Ambrose had heard the question this morning.Ambrose gnashed his teeth. Sleeping on the forest floor had done little to dull the numerous aches he harbored. His sprained ankle was a dull throb even when sitting, but he knew it would flare into a beacon of agony after another day of walking for miles on end. Every nick and cut he had suffered stung from his own sweat, every insects’ bite itched worse than the caress of a jellyfish’s tendril.“I’m at my wit’s end, Joras!” he sobbed. “On the sea, there is a time to wait for the wind to shift and fill your sails, and there is a time to break out the oars and row. The wind is not shifting, Joras. Unless you want to drag or carry me to whatever fate awaits us, I’m going to die here in this jungle, unless I row.”He limped to the tree stump and picked up Shala’s head with both hands. Holding her up to his face, he stared into her undead eyes. “Speak, witch. What do you need me to do?”“Kiss me, oh captain of the seas,” Shala purred. “It will be over in no time.” The witch started to mutter, knotty words not meant for mortal tongues.“You have to be joking!” Joras gasped. “Put your lips to that, thing?”“Either that or dying on a nameless jungle path,” Ambrose said, gritting his teeth. He puckered his lips and pulled the witch’s head close. Shala, having finished her incantation, gazed at him with pursed lips, her wicked eyes wide with anticipation.“There’s a good boy,” the witch cooed. “Be strong. It will be over very soon.”Her clammy, withered lips touched his. Then came her tongue, probing into his mouth. He tried to clench his teeth against the intrusion, but the glutinous texture of the organ so repulsed his sensibilities that his jaw opened in revulsion instead. He very nearly dropped her then, but forced himself to endure the horror.The witch’s tongue delved impossibly deep, caressing his teeth, tracing unknown sigils on the roof of his mouth, coddling his own tongue. Ambrose had eaten raw fish tasting better than the curling flesh, but there was no escape from the loathsome kiss. He was transfixed by her undead eyes as her tongue explored his mouth, fouling it with her rotten taste.At last the organ withdrew and Ambrose began to relax- until her teeth gouged a bloody furrow into his lower lip. He dropped the head, but Shala did not fall. His lip, clamped tightly in her teeth, distended from the weight of Shala’s head hanging off of it. With pain lancing through his jaw Ambrose swatted at the witch, but every blow that landed only tore his flesh.Joars finally intervened with a cry of protest. Seizing the witch’s head, he supported its weight, alleviating the pull on Ambrose’s lip. He twisted Shala’s ear until she finally released her grip sputtering one last breathless word, her maw stained crimson with blood.Ambrose held his mouth, close to losing his stomach for the second time this cursed morning. As Joras asked after his state, Ambrose’s heartbeat throbbed through the deep gash in his lip and he itched to cave in that undead skull with his cane. A tingling, burning sensation started in his lips, then spread.“What manner of curse have you-” Ambrose spat, bloody spittle flying from his lips. But then he noticed it, the pain was receding! The mutilated lip was knitting itself closed! Like hundreds of stinging fire ants, the sensation traveled down his body, leaving nothing but the absence of pain behind. Even the ever-present throbbing in his ankle abated!“No curse.” Shala grinned up at him from Joras’ grip, her cheeks flushed with an infusion of life. “I have told you again and again, until we find my boy, I will do my best to help.”Ambrose mulled the words over in his mouth, but as a man of honor, he had no choice, even if it galled him. Taking a deep breath, he bowed.“Thank you, Shala.”The witch’s grin was loathsome. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”Suddenly a long, drawn wail echoed through the jungle.“That’s Tsonia!” Ambrose exclaimed, reaching for a sword. “She’s in trouble!” As if to answer him, a second wail followed.“No,” Joras sighed, setting Shala back down. “That is not the sound of Tsonia in distress I’m afraid.”“The whore is in heat, like a mongrel bitch” Shala spat dismissively.“She is having all the fun, is she?” Ambrose asked, placing an arm around Joras’ shoulders.The artist scowled. “Sometimes it is very difficult, being her chronicler.” He gently laid his head upon the taller man’s shoulder. “It may be a while before we get that water.”Ambrose chuckled. “I’d rather half a keg of Debon’s Winter Mead right about now.”He shifted his weight to embrace Joras. Had it been only a few days since they’d been swept upon these dreadful shores? Ambrose had almost forgotten how it felt to stand without favoring his bad foot.Joras looked up at him, a sly cock to his eyebrow. “Oh, you do remember our first night then?” he asked. “I thought all that mead had muddled your memory.”“I remember enough,” Ambrose affirmed, and then he kissed Joras in a way he’d not soon forget. Maybe, he thought, they’d make it out of this hellish jungle alive after all, if Tsonia’s recklessness didn’t kill them all.With Ambrose’s body mended and T'pek leading them, they traveled at a much faster clip. The soggy, swampy soil gave way to firmer ground, with the occasional rock formation jutting up between the trees. By midday, the jungle seemed much less dense and oppressive, with pools of golden sunlight cutting through wider gaps in the leafy canopy.Shortly before dusk, with thick clouds pooling overhead, they reached a wide, gaping chasm. Deep below was the glitter of a rock-strewn river, its rush and roar echoing off the sheer cliffs to either side.Ambrose peered over the edge, shuddering. “What are those dark shapes clinging to the walls?” He pointed.“Death on wings,” T'pek said. “They hunt fish below.”“I hear a 'but’ somewhere,” Joras quipped, then turned to T'pek. “How do we cross? Climb?”T'pek shoo

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On this episode... part 3 in our series on how to enhance your edging practice with sound. This time... your voice.Join us in Holistic Alpha Inner Circle, our private membership community: https://www.holisticalpha.com/innercircle. It's 100% guaranteed to help you kick ass in creating the life you desire.New: You can now search all previous episodes of the show (and listen) at podcast.holisticalpha.com/episodesPlease rate the show!----MORE WAYS TO CONNECT:Text:801-742-1439Email:support@holisticalpha.comFacebook:https://www.facebook.com/stevenmathisInstagram:https://www.instagram.com/stevenlmathis/

Sharon Stone is a good Broad!

In which a rookie's arrogance (mildly) tests Earl Weaver and a pitcher nicknamed “Bucher Boy” prompts a mass ejection event. The Infinite Inning is not only about baseball but a state of mind. Steven Goldman, rotating cohosts Jesse Spector, Cliff Corcoran, and David Roth, and occasional guests discuss the game's present, past, and future with forays outside the foul lines to the culture at large. Expect stats, anecdotes, digressions, explorations of writing and fandom, and more Casey Stengel quotations than you thought possible. Along the way, they'll try to solve the puzzle that is the Infinite Inning: How do you find the joy in life when you can't get anybody out?This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/3569757/advertisement

The 586th of a series of weekly radio programmes created by :zoviet*france: First broadcast 30 September 2023 by Resonance 104.4 FM and CJMP 90.1 FM Thanks to the artists and sound recordists included here for their fine work. track list … :zoviet*france: - A Duck in a Tree Link 566a 00 Suzanne Hardy - Intro 01 Mathias Delplanque - Alo 02 Sara Pinheiro - Do que ressoa 03 A Sphere of Simple Green - Perception of the Margin 04 T.R.I.v.M. - Autumn Twilight 05 [unknown sound recordist / BBC] - Wildebeest – Several Grazing and Grunting, with Birds and Insects in Background, Masai Mara National Park, Kenya 06 Piltdown Sound - G2 Transit 07 [unknown sound recordist / BBC] - B.T. – Lines and Tones – Dial Pay Phone: Pips 08 Empirical Evidence - Ondoforma mekaniko 09 Gintas K - IVALO [extract] 10 Mark Warren - Mine – Moraine Stream 3 11 Mark Warren - Kultur Haus – Indoor Rain 1 12 William Basinski & Janek Schaefer - …On Reflection (Five) ++ Suzanne Hardy - Outro … :zoviet*france: - A Duck in a Tree Link 566b

Think Tennis and Taekwondo. Two sports which could not be more different from each other, but they have one aspect in common. Grunting. But what's the big deal about grunting in sports? And if you thought these two were unrelated, may I introduce Indian classical music in the mix? What could possible connect grunting and Indian classical music? This week, we discover the neuroscience that connects grunting, Indian Classical Music and why we as Indians love eating with our hands.Check out the following Coke Studio SongsPaar Channa De (ft. Strings, Noori and Shilpa Rao) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrPvQvbp3Cg Piyush Mishra on Coke Studio MTV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfk6AzvyX4k and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zTFzMPWGLs Choudhary (ft Mame Khan) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gukvtH_a3I Tu Jhoom (ft. Abida Parveen and Naseebo Lal) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7D4vNcK6D38 Rang (ft. Rahat Fateh Ali Khan and Late Amjad Sabri) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7D4vNcK6D38 And if you are intrigued about Central Asia, Samosas and Hospitality, check out the episodes on Uzbekistan Beauty of Uzbekistan and the Geometry Box: https://omny.fm/shows/postcards-from-nowhere-with-utsav-mamoria/beauty-of-uzbekistan-the-geometry-boxMelons of Samarkand: https://omny.fm/shows/postcards-from-nowhere-with-utsav-mamoria/melons-of-samarkand Vincent Van Gogh and Uzbekistan: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=I03d1slNCXMla8VCSecrets of Doors: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=InTTDLzqdrZWSvf5 Train Journeys and Humanity: Part 1: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=I2xUGZmKqpNnFmKl Train Journeys and Humanity: Part 2: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=I2fOFK5K0YFNLT3F World's most popular snack: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=ImYiIkxnf8vNTFNn For reflections on walking, check out Walking: An Act of Resistance: https://podcasts.adorilabs.com/show/e?eid=IlhRj0aYOdW8A8Pu You can reach out to our host Utsav on Instagram: @‌whywetravel42(https://www.instagram.com/whywetravel42  ) Do follow IVM Podcasts on social media. We are @IVMPodcasts on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram.  Do share the word with your folks!    See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

0:00 - Just a lot of talking about food. Topics discussed: Grunting with satisfaction, Golden Corral, Ryan's, Jason's Deli, Meat Boss, Specialty Cookie Shops, and Way Too Much Fat in a Boston Butt. 12:00 - REVIEW - “Blue Beetle” (2023) - Just Kidding! We're going to talk about the very sexual Buzz Lightyear commercial from “Toy Story” for far too long. 16:30 - REVIEW - “Blue Beetle” (2023) for real this time.  50:50 - Brief aside into DragonBall Z 56:50 - Back to Blue Beetle 1:00:00 - Why better DC films will result in better Marvel films. Executive Producers: Conner Dempsey • Dustin Weldon Theme Music by Dustin Weldon Produced & Engineered by Conner Dempsey Powered by Zoom, Skype, QuickTime, Adobe Audition, & Adobe Premiere Pro Special Thanks to Anchor FM FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. This is critique, protected under Fair Use. I DO NOT OWN THIS CONTENT. CONTENT IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing.  Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

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Bekah Berger and Mike D talk about Pickleball, Injuries and other things.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey Listener, grab your tool belts because it's a very special episode. This week I'm on location in Columbus, Ohio at April Jacques and Big Dan Sabel's Florida Room to talk about Home Improvement projects. This episode also includes a guest appearance by Andy Worthless and a reluctant at first Jess Darkes. Topics this week include: How many States have rooms named after them? What Ya Into? Cooking. You can't touch your cell phone when you have chicken crap on your hands. Don't touch my grill and the Saint of Meats. Doctor. Carpet on a bathroom floor. Knowing people that know a little bit about everything. Getting a dumpster. Ants in the Pants happens. The Penny Floor and not being able to get pennies. Big Dan is an excellent timer and paying twice for a floor, but coming out a third ahead. I'm not a guy's guy. Going to Lowes. Learning through YouTube and checking your sources. Jack Hammer. Purple walls. The room no one goes to. The worst plumbing thing that has happened to your host. Doing construction with your partner. The biggest recurring fight in your host's marriage. Flexing like Attila the Hun. The skyrocketing prices of the Rock Band aftermarket. Spiking the football. The Ohio Basement Cops stop by and needing a bar. Giving my wife a gun and a road flare.   

-- Presented by Boneyard Beer --0:00 — Welcome! Peter talks about his meat problems7:50 — Would you rather: Take $500k or have dinner with LeBron James 10:55 — Discussing shenanigans of Braxton's birthday over the weekend, including going to a rodeo; which rodeo event would you most want to participate in? 19:55 — Karl Anthony Towns is delusional; Mike Malone's ultimate troll on LeBron James and the Lakers 24:05 — Michael Jordan sells the Hornets, is taking heat for being a bad owner; does this affect his legacy or does he still come out on top?29:35 — Ja Morant's 25-game suspension: Fair or foul? 34:20 — Draymond Green opts out of his contract: Will he return or is he headed to another team (Lakers?); would you sign him to a long term deal?44:55 — Bradley Beal headed to the Suns: Why did the Wizards make that deal, Beal's leverage; will it work in Phoenix and do Super Teams work, in general?54:25 — Damian Lillard headed to the Heat? The irony of Dame possibly playing with Jimmy Butler1:02:10 — Wyndham Clark wins US Open; Miguel accidentally wins money; Rory McIlroy chokes; Rickie Fowler resurgence 1:06:15 — Best AFC QBs; ranking the top-5 coming off Joe Burrow's comments; will Aaron Rodgers fall flat on his face with the Jets? And why is Russell Wilson on this list?So long until next season! Keep a look out for best-of episodes throughout the summer! 

The boys are BACK and ready to yuk it up on a bevy of topics! Our special guest is a Ridgewood native entering his sophomore year! --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/dadsnight/message

Grunting on a first date is probably a sound effect you should avoid....Leave a rating and review wherever you listen, it helps us out a lot! Also follow us on social @joeyandlaurenshow

Sports Analyst, Nat Gordon of Boston Sports Gordo, @BOSSportsGordo & Beyond the Monster shares his take on the Red Sox in the AL East, including a look at pitching of what works and what doesn't. recognizing Jarren Duran and a look at Devers and Bogaerts in San DiegoCorey Kluber and $10 million later Upcoming rotation moves with Nick Pivetta and Whitlock coming backThe Red Sox out West – with Padres, Angels & DiamonbacksLoss of Rich Hill, Nick Eovaldi, Michael Wacha & Eduardo RodriguezChris Sale is back, Angry & Grunting – throwing 110 pitchesTanner Houck fascinating first time through the lineup. Expectations that he may become an even better starter.  Garrett Whitlock may be back soonBeyond the Monster – Nat addresses losing Trevor Story & Adam Duval and the rise of Jarren DuranLet's get Jarren Duran to the All-Star game with Rob Bradford @BradfoRafael Devers, Xander Bogaerts & Mookie Betts. Should the Red Sox Front Office kept them all.Bogaerts was offered a low ball contract, was he worth more? Ask the Padres.What is coming up from the Red Sox Farm Brian Mata, Brandon Walter, Chris Murphy, Miguel Bleis, Shane DrohanIL: Christian Arroyo, Yoshida, Yu Chang, Justin TurnerMasataka Yoshida – doesn't swing & miss, he does it all, can be crazy hot. Had hit 2 HR in 1 inning.Yoshida never goes cold at the plateGrinding pitchers out – Red Sox are waiting for the right pitchWhat to expect from Angels & Diamondbacks this week.MadBum sent up homeJohn Smoltz & Corey Kluber Smoltz, Cy Young Award Winner was let go.  How much time will Corey Kluber have without improvementChris Sale, the Ace of old has returned to the mound. How long will it last?pitcher injuries due to the demand for High speed and pitch clockAL East and a balanced schedule – Red Sox shine above so many others across the other divisionsOther sports what's happening with the Celtics – Game 5? For the most up to date news on the Red Sox follow Nat Gordon of Boston Sports Gordo, @BOSSportsGordo & Beyond the Monster with Chris Enrique @ChrisHenrique and - Let's get Jarren Duran to the All-Star game with Rob Bradford @BradfoBaseballBiz can be found on iheartradio, Stitcher, Apple,Spotify & Google podcasts & @TheBaseballBiz on Twitter and of course on https://www.baseballbizondeck.comPlease like, follow and comment. Let us know your thoughts about the show. DM Mark on Twitter @TheBaseballBiz Special thanks to XTaKeRuX for the music "Rocking Forward"

We didn't mean to get into a rant about Goldberg but somehow we did anyway, but we also talk about Ryback so there's that too. Damn you Tony Khan for doing this to us. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vXeDd0afiY merch: prowrestlingtees.com/jadedwrasslin twitter: @Jadedwrasslin  YouTube: youtube.com/c/jadedwrasslin --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/jadedwrasslin/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/jadedwrasslin/support

Derek Malcore of Okayest Hunter spends a lot of time hunting the cedar swamps and big woods of Northern Wisconsin. They discuss finding edges within monotonous landscapes, cedar swamps, the importance of rubs, 2 things all successful hunters have in common, and much more. Topics: 06:26 What is Okayest Hunter? 10:52 Derek's background and Wisconsin culture 15:32 Communicating and teaching info to other hunters 18:59 Cedar swamps and flat forests 37:27 Favorite time of year to hunt in Derek's area 39:45 Deer density and wolves 46:34 Quality of deer in Northern Wisconsin 50:12 MN and WI regions correlated to buck quality 53:57 Old trail cameras 56:53 Grunting and lessons learned 01:00:37 Dragging deer out 01:08:48 Time in the woods, learning, and success 01:18:29 Rub clusters 01:22:33 Current trail camera strategies 01:31:31 Do you really ever know what the deer are doing? Note** timestamps might be off by roughly 4 minutes on the audio version due to ad length changes Resources: GoWild: Beau Martonik (East Meets West Hunt) Instagram:   @eastmeetswesthunt @beau.martonik @okayest_hunter @thegreatartdoors Facebook:   East Meets West Outdoors   Website/Apparel/Deals: https://www.eastmeetswesthunt.com/ YouTube: Beau Martonik - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQJon93sYfu9HUMKpCMps3w Partner Discounts and Affiliate Links: https://www.eastmeetswesthunt.com/partners Amazon Influencer Page https://www.amazon.com/shop/beau.martonik Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

My obsession with tennis grunts continues, so to get to the bottom of some very important questions, I enlist the help of the best in the business - former world tennis champion Ash Barty. I also find out how well my Producer knows this podcast... and the results aren't great.  LINKS  Follow @christianhull on Instagram Follow @listnrentertainment on Instagram  CREDITS Hosts: Christian HullProducer: Natalie TurnerEditor: Nial FernandesSocial Producer: Amber LowtherSupervising Producer: Elise Cooper Managing Producer: Sam Cavanagh Find more great podcasts like this at www.listnr.com/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

My obsession with tennis grunts continues, so to get to the bottom of some very important questions, I enlist the help of the best in the business - former world tennis champion Ash Barty. I also find out how well my Producer knows this podcast... and the results aren't great. LINKS Follow @christianhull on Instagram CREDITS Hosts: Christian HullProducer: Natalie TurnerEditor: Nial FernandesSocial Producer: Amber LowtherSupervising Producer: Elise Cooper Managing Producer: Sam Cavanagh Support me!: https://www.patreon.com/christianhull

Tidbits with Tye- Tom Brady is retiring again- Did Tony Romo put his foot in his mouth?- Super Bowl brothers for the first time ever- HS Basketball fraud- Larsa Pippen dating Michael Jordan's sonPop News Time- The last update ever on TJ and Amy- Ozempic for weight loss?Reality Roundup- Nate Bargatze's special is out and amazing- Pam, A Love Story on Netflix- Netflix's upcoming lineup- The BachelorJoin to conversation!www.youtube.com/@logicallyirrationalwww.facebook.com/logically_irrationalmelissa@logicallyirrational.com866-7-LOGICA (866-756-4422)

Hour one of the Monday edition of The Armstrong & Getty Show features more info released in The Twitter Files, Mailbag, shadow banning in social media and the perils of real estate.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hour one of the Monday edition of The Armstrong & Getty Show features more info released in The Twitter Files, Mailbag, shadow banning in social media and the perils of real estate.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Masterminding the kind of thinking and activity it takes to go to a million-dollar income. “When two minds come together, a third mind is created." Masterminding and refining how to think and how to organize your activity so you can go to and...

On this episode of the East Meets West Hunt podcast, Beau Martonik is joined by Zach Ferenbaugh of The Hunting Public. Zach's style of ground hunting whitetails is unique and effective. They discuss overlooked hunting spots, identifying hot sign, how far to push, still-hunting on the ground, and realistic calling techniques that work even in highly pressured areas. This is part 1 of 2. Topics: Beau's Late October hunting update Overlooked hunting spots When looking for hot sign, how far is too far? Still-hunting on the ground Why you should always carry your bow when scouting Rattling, Grunting, and Bleating on Public Land Resources: Instagram:   @eastmeetswesthunt @beau.martonik @zach_ferenbaugh @thehuntingpublic Facebook:   East Meets West Outdoors   Website/Apparel/Deals: https://www.eastmeetswesthunt.com/ YouTube: Beau Martonik - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQJon93sYfu9HUMKpCMps3w Amazon Influencer Page https://www.amazon.com/shop/beau.martonik   Partners and Exclusive Deals: Spartan Forge - Check out the Spartan Forge app for deer movement predictions based on millions of data points for your area, as well as incredible GPS mapping! Save 20% with coupon code eastmeetswest GoWild - is a free social community built by hunters, for hunters. Use the code EASTMEETSWEST to save 10% off of all hunting gear on the website (including Tethrd Saddle hunting equipment). Maven Optics - Top-quality binoculars, spotting scopes and rifle scopes for your hunts from east to west. Use the code eastmeetswest-gift to get a free gift with your next order! Elk Crossing Getaway in the PA Wilds - You can rent out my personal AirBNB property in the heart of the PA Wilds as a hunting camp, watch the elk with your family, go hiking, fishing, and anything else outdoor-related. Send us a message on AirBNB and say you heard about it on the podcast to save 10%. TETHRD - Tethrd builds the highest quality, lightweight, and innovative saddle hunting gear on the planet. Use the coupon code EASTMEETSWEST to save 10% off Tethrd saddle hunting gear in the GoWild App Gear Shop. SITKA GEAR - Use this link to help support the podcast and build your own performance hunting apparel system. Exodus Trail Cameras- Save 10% off Exodus trail cameras and gear by clicking on the link. Code automatically applied at checkout Seek Outside - Save 5% off the American-made, lightweight tents and outdoor gear by using the code eastmeetswest Big Truck Farms - They embrace the mindset of hard work and the outdoor lifestyle on the farm with an “Earn a Beer” mentality. They support and host archery shoots, donate to veterans, and make damn good beer. Visit “The Farmhouse” in Parkton, Maryland. Heather's Choice - Healthy, great-tasting, dehydrated meals for the backcountry. Use code eastmeetswest to get free shipping.  Garmin - From lifesaving devices to smartwatches, and range-finding bow sights, Garmin builds products to help you on the hunt. Diamondback Truck Covers - Diamondback makes the most rigid truck bed covers on the market for hunters, outdoorsmen, contractors, etc. I use the HD cover capable of holding up to 1,600 pounds on top of it and is impossible to break into. MTN OPS - is the leader in providing science-based supplements to help you train inside and conquer more outside. Use the code BEAUFREESHIP for free shipping on all orders. 

The guys kick off Season 3 by recapping a crazy college football weekend, discuss whether back-to-back division roadies for the Colts are must-wins, look back on Query's 50th birthday celebration, and jump into the world of tennis grunting.

Turns out, Andrea doesn't need sound effects on today's Make Up or Break Up!

Actor, artist and Real Life Sci-Fi host Erin Pearce joins us to talk Yo Gabba Gabba, theme park characters and taste tests some wild honey. Spencer makes a drink called "Beef Fizz" which is exactly what it sounds like. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices