Podcasts about Henri

The Time Riders: Part 7 Becoming A Slave Owner. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Cast of Characters: Mark Simmons: 18 year old High School grad, enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life. Uses various aliases in traveling. Rebecca 'Becky' Fischer: Mark's Physics teacher. Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling. Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary. Chester Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living in 17th Century French village. Cardinal Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke'. Statesman and Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne. Alexandra D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed. Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual. Dhallyla: Mark's mother. Roxy: Mark's sister. Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by Becky, dark complexion. Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely. Flavius: Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia, protective father of Dometia, Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation by Roman court. Pompeneia looked at Nanu and spoke to her somewhat tersely. "You are now owned by the Lady Aurora Horatia, who has purchased you at a fair price from me. Such belongings as you might have, girl, will be leaving with you when the Lady departs. Understood?" Nanu's eyes widened and she felt her heart suddenly pounding in her chest in shock and delight. Unable to contain her smile, she nodded eagerly. Pompeneia looked back at her guest and smiled. "She is all yours, my lady." Becky looked at Nanu and smirked, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Go find that lazybones Bonosus and tell him." Nanu was gone in a flash. Becky turned to look at Pompeneia and smiled wickedly as she leaned her back down on the couch and wiggled her way between Pompeneia's hips, so that her mouth was at her hostess' cunt. "Now, how about I find another way to thank you for your generosity?" she purred as she began sliding her tongue along those sticky lips; Mark was wandering through the darkened rooms of the parts of the house not currently being used by the orgy, still looking for a damn lavatory. Why the Hell did the Romans have such fucked-up house layouts? He'd passed about ten servants' bedrooms already; was he just supposed to piss on one of them? He paused as he heard a quiet noise, one he recognized quickly as sighing. It had been coming from a room nearby, and it was definitely a girl's sigh. Or a really femmy boy slave. You couldn't guess in ancient Rome. Either way, he decided to investigate. He tiptoed forward, looking into various dark rooms he'd passed. He heard another sigh, and then something more akin to a moan. He smiled slyly, identifying the room it had finally come from. He crept up and peered around the open wooden doors to look inside; She had her back to him, but inside the dark chamber, which was obviously a bedroom, was a young woman, with her face seemingly pressed to the far wall, and squirming her hips beneath her expensive clothing and beginning to pant. She had voluminous brown hair worn up on her head, exposing a shapely neck, and her stola dress had ridden up high enough to expose her lush ass cheeks, which were quivering and squeezing while she fingered herself. Grinning, Mark leaned against the door frame and just watched quietly. He wasn't beyond a good show. A tiny point of light near her head finally showed Mark what she was doing; there was a small hole in the wall, big enough for her to see through, and she was clearly watching the orgy happening on the other side. She was also clearly having a great time getting off to it. He liked the sight of her, at least, what he could readily see; she had a great ass, a slender back and shapely legs. Her dark brown hair, worn in several braids, was just begging to be pulled on. He couldn't see her cunt from here, but he could definitely hear how wet she was. He quietly entered the room and glided up behind her. She smelled of iris and roses, a perfume he found thrilling, especially here in this dark room, both of them unseen by the scores of others in the villa. His cock, still hard and throbbing, couldn't wait to be buried deep inside her. He moved in close and pressed up against her, his rigid shaft sliding between her legs. She shuddered in shock and drew in a breath, as if she was about to scream; but he quickly and gently clamped his hand over her mouth and wrapped his other hand around her waist. Her moved his head next to her ear. "You don't need to scream or be frightened," he whispered, feeling her still shaking. "I am the Lady Aurora's servant Bonosus, and I just want to be with you this day;” She turned her head, her eyes wide, as she tried to see him, his hand still loosely over her mouth. Her body was still stiff in possible panic, but she hadn't cried out yet. He smiled at her, trying to assure her he meant no harm. "If I let go of your mouth, will you scream?" he asked. The girl shook her head. For whatever reason, Mark believed her, and removed his hand from her mouth, and his arm from around her waist. She didn't run, but she threw herself against the wall she was standing next to, almost clutching at it as she turned around to face him. Her eyes were still wide, and he could see she was breathing heavily. "See? I'm not gonna hurt you," Mark said, smiling cheerfully. Staying pressed against the wall for safety, she looked him up and down slowly, noticing now that he was quite naked. Her eyes lingered on his erect cock for several seconds, as if captivated by it. He could now see her from the front, and what he was looking at pleased him; she had a pretty face, certainly. Not exotic, like Nanu, nor was she as striking and just plain gorgeous as Becky, but it was a pretty face nonetheless. Her eyes were brown, her cheekbones high, and her mouth sensual and full. The face; he knew it. Lady Pompeneia and Master Flavius! This must be their daughter. He continued looking at her body, noting now that her entire outfit was askew; not only had her dress been pushed up around her hips in front, to allow her to finger herself, but the top of her dress was pulled down, no doubt so that she could play with her pert tits. They were not large, but looked perfectly full on her slender frame, capped with brown aureoles and nipples, which were still hard. She had a tiny waist and womanly hips. He was going to enjoy fucking her. "My name is Bonosus, like I said," he repeated, moving in a tiny bit closer to her. She didn't try to escape, but perhaps flattened herself a little more against the wall. He tried not to seem so forceful. And odd thing, since he was at an orgy, and was already used to just fucking whomever he liked. "Would you tell me your name?" She finally spoke, her voice low and quiet. "My name is Domitia. I am the daughter of your hosts, the Master and Mistress Flavius." "I am very happy to meet you, Domitia," he said, smiling and nodding. In his ear, he could hear the implant translate her name as 'she who is tamed'. He suddenly had a very good feeling about this encounter. "In the name of my mistress' goddess, Feronia, I would ask you to join me in making love." "You; you are kind, Bonosus," she stammered, her face pale, but a flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were no longer wide, but turning glassy. "But I must; I shouldn't;” "I thought today was a day where all people cast aside their inhibitions, and did exactly as they pleased," he reasoned, stepping a little closer, noticing that she did not attempt to move away from him. "I already saw you looking through that hole there;” Now Domitia blushed furiously, turning her head to look at the ground. "I am ashamed; I should not; I shouldn't have been;” "What were you looking at, anyway?" he queried, pressing himself against her, his cock now flat against her belly, separated from her skin only by the fine material of her stola. She shivered as she felt his cock press to her, and her hands reached up and flexed, without touching him. Leaning over her shoulder, her wondrous scent in his nostrils, he closed one eye and peered through the tiny hole in the ochre-painted wall. He smiled slyly as he could see that the hole looked out on the palaestra, the courtyard in which he and Becky (and several others) had been fucking earlier. Even now, he could see a man bending a slave girl over in the shallow pool and fucking her from behind, while two women beyond the pool were lying opposite each other, legs scissored and slithering their pussies together. One of them was sucking on the cock of a slave who leaned over her, moaning and fondling her tits. "Well, you were enjoying yourself, clearly," Mark mused, turning and smirking at her. She looked at him, trying to smile back, but then just blushing and looking at the ground again. At least she wasn't trying to leave anymore. "Would you like to watch through the hole again while I fuck you from behind?" Something in his suggestion made her tense very suddenly, and she looked at him again, her eyes now wide. "I; shouldn't; no, my parents must not know I'm here, they; I should return to my domicile." "Are you married?" he asked, thinking that even if she was, she had showed up at her parents' orgy and was making herself cum, even if she'd been hiding. Marriage didn't seem to be a barrier during an orgy, near as he could tell. By his count, he'd already fucked at least four married patrician women and three plebeian women today. "Yes! No! I;” she stammered, blushing again and closing her eyes. Against her will, she inhaled deeply, taking in his raw, animal scent. Gods, he smelled divinely of sexuality, of carnality, of; heated fucking. It made her instantly wet, and her body trembled in need. "I cannot;” He smiled slyly and could tell that she wanted to stay. Even though she was protesting, he could already feel her hips pressing forward, squirming against him, desperate to finish what she was started when she was alone. She wanted to cum with him. "Then don't say anything," he whispered to her, his hands on her hips now. She shuddered again, her eyes wide and glassy as she gazed up at him. "Let me take care of this for you, Domitia;” He couldn't be sure, but the thought she nodded almost imperceptibly. Her felt her tits press forward against him. Her name means 'She who is tamed'; He took both her wrists in one hand and lifted them, pinning them against the wall over her head. She gasped and shivered, seemingly cowed by his superior strength. Her hips squirmed against him again, her tits heaving as she almost began to pant. Her eyes were flashing now, and he could see lust in them, almost as if it was forbidden and impure. He would give her what she wanted, that was certain. Domitia sucked in her breath as he put his free hand on her tit and fondled her, the soft skin yielding before his touch, his palm brushing over the hard nipple. Domitia bit her lip as she tried to remain quiet, her whole body trembling with a need for release. Mark caressed her other tit as well, pinching the nipple and pulling on it gently, making the brown-haired girl whimper and squeeze her eyes shut. "No; uh;” she gasped. His hand now found her waist and undid the cotton strip that belted the stola, letting it fall away. Domitia was breathing heavily now, especially when he began to pull her dress down, revealing more and more of her body. She gasped loudly as she felt his hard cock pressed against her belly now. She pushed her tits against his chest, squirming with urgency. Her protests made less and less sense by the moment, although he surmised it was just for show. Girls did that sometimes. At least, that's what Becky and other girls he'd fucked had told him. Domitia seemed to be no exception. Her stola now pooled around her ankles, revealing her body. The one flickering brazier in the corner of the room revealed that he had seen correctly; she had a lovely body. Not an erotic fantasy like Becky's, which was the product of the modern era of vitamins, yogurt, quinoa, hemp seeds and CrossFit, but still lush and attractive, and currently given to a deep-seated lust he wanted to fulfill. Her eyes were flashing as they stared up into his, her tits heaving. She bared her teeth as he reached down and cupped her cunt, which was now dripping wet. His finger slid up and down her length, finding her clit and eliciting a gasp. Her hands, still pinned above her head, flexed compulsively. She was breathing heavily now. "Keep your arms above your head," Mark said firmly as he released them and brought his hand down, both of them reaching behind her and taking hold of her ass cheeks. Domitia almost hissed as he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She had readily obeyed, and kept her arms over her head, as if they were still pinned there. Her submission to him seemed very real and complete. Looking into her eyes, he held her steady, leaning her back against the wall while one of his hands guided his cock to her wet entrance. One he felt the engorged tip nestle against her lips, he placed his hand back on her ass cheek and began to push; Domitia breathed deeply as he penetrated, but then shook and whimpered as he encountered a barrier. Mark paused, but then felt her push her hips against him, and proceeded to lean forward against the wall. She shook and cried out, and Mark suddenly slipped deep inside her warmth easily. Holy shit, she'd been a virgin; awesome! She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck, trembling almost uncontrollably. Seconds later, she lifted her face and look up at him, her eyes glassy. Whatever pain she'd been feeling was clearly gone, now. He could, on the other hand, feel a single, warm trickle of a fluid down the underside of his cock, and the air smelled slightly of pennies now. "You have made me a woman," she murmured, still staring at him. "Let us finish this wondrous coupling now. Fuck me, Bonosus, servant of Lady Horatia;” She put her arms back above her head again, her wrists crossed, as a sign of his power over her. Mark nodded and began pumping slowly, sliding his cock in and out of her. Domitia trembled again, at the feel of him inside her, hard and throbbing, her cunt squeezing around him. She sighed loudly, eyes still locked with his. "A girl could die this way, and happily;” she breathed, squirming her tits against his chest. It was a bit of a strange thing to say, he thought, maybe a little morbid, but teen girls were like that sometimes, with the weird, poetic drama. He'd fucked a goth chick once, and she was; Domitia grunted and began pumping back against him lustily, all her fears of their fucking obviously gone. She was hissing through her teeth, grinding her hips against him as he made a sawing motion with his, pushing deep inside her wanton cunt. He could feel her cunt tightening around him as she found their rhythm, slippery and getting wetter by the moment. She jammed her lips against his and kissed him feverishly, their tongues wrestling between their mouths. He held her tighter, thumping her against the wall each time he thrust his cock deep inside her. She moaned into his mouth, and her warm skin was getting damp with sweat as he took her. She might have been a virgin mere moments ago, but her carnal desires would not be denied anymore. Domitia pushed back for all she was worth, her arms finally coming down and gripping his back. They were still kissing in a frenzy, and Mark was breathing through his nose, his hips smacking against hers. Domitia panted and moaned into his mouth with each thrust, her fingernails raking his back as she fought to get him ever deeper inside her. Her need almost baffled him, because he could feel the head of his cock battering her cervix each time he drove home. The wet sucking sounds her cunt made filled the room, even over the sounds of their groans. Mark was growing warm now, and he could feel that the sex tabs he'd used had already replenished his cum, deep inside his balls. When he did bust, this girl's first experience would see her overflowing with cum, his cum, and it would be glorious. He wanted to bring her out of hiding and over to the orgy. He wanted to fuck her at the same time as he fucked Becky and Nanu. Domitia seized up suddenly, shaking around him and screaming into his mouth while her cunt clenched him ferociously. He kissed her hard, making sure she didn't alert the whole house, and fucked her harder than ever, making her wail into his mouth again. He could feel his own body heating up rapidly, the distinct, tingling boiling in his balls letting him now that orgasm was now unstoppable. Mark pulled her hard against him, pressing into her as far as he could, straining and arching his back. The floodgates burst and he began filling Domitia with his pearly cum, and she panted and almost growled at the release. She churned and writhed on his cock, her frothy essence smearing his entire groin. He felt the peristaltic motions of his inner muscles, spurting his cum up his cock and deep inside his lover, a glorious, blessed release. Best. Orgy. Ever. He sagged against her, breathing heavily, while Domitia went limp in his grip, sighing in deep pleasure. She was no longer raking her fingernails over his back but caressing it gently, almost reverently. It was kind of backwards, since he was supposedly a slave and she was a patrician's daughter, but what the hey, she was a total subbie, right? She purred as she kissed his damp skin, still undulating her hips against him and squeezing his cock gently with her gooey cunt. He held her close, his forehead against her neck while he tried to regain his breath. This orgy was barely half over. There was so much to; The screech from behind them froze his blood instantly. He went rigid for several moments, before his head snapped around and he looked to see who was in the doorway. Gazing at the entwined pair in astonishment, bordering on horror, was Nanu. Still quite naked, her face was frozen in shock, her mouth working soundlessly. Confusion engulfed him, wondering what had caused the slave-girl to have such a caustic reaction to what she'd seen. Was it jealousy? It couldn't be that; she'd watched him fuck plenty of other women today. He looked back at Domitia, and saw that she had frozen as well, pale with what could only be described as terror about their discovery. That confused him too. What the Hell was happening here? Endless feet seemed to come stampeding toward them, and cries of shock now echoed through the house. Master Flavius surged through the door and stopped dead, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "Domitia!" he said in a quavering voice, pointing a trembling finger at the duo. "What are you;" Lady Pompeneia, accompanied by Becky, now bustled into the room. The matron stopped dead upon seeing them, her body shaking. Becky's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit;” she muttered in English. "Father!" Domitia called out, still impaled on Mark's cock, but looking over his shoulder at her parents. "Mother, I;” She made to move, but Mark's tool shifted inside her, and she gasped in pleasure and began wriggling furiously, fucking him again despite their ever-growing audience. People cried out in shock, and Lady Pompeneia's eyes rolled into her head before she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The cacophony grew, with Mark staring in confusion and Domitia grunting like an animal as she fucked her way to ecstasy again, seemingly unable to stop. A patrician woman entered and shrieked, scandalized by what she saw. "The slave!" she called out, aghast. "He has defiled one of Vesta's Virgins!" As if in response, Domitia shook and arched her back, wailing loudly as she came. "Seize that man!" shouted Flavius, his face purple with fury. Free men and slaves both surged forward, grappling onto Mark and trying to yank him away. But Domitia would not be pried off him, howling in protest and still grinding herself madly on his cock, squealing through another orgasm, even as they led the pair away. Most of the crowd followed them out, still clamoring loudly. Some women helped the swooning Pompeneia to her feet, and led her out of the room. Soon, the only people left were Becky and Nanu, who stood in the doorway. The slave-girl stared at her new mistress, who shrugged rather helplessly. Nanu turned and followed the crowd, leaving Becky alone in the room. It was eerily quiet now, the noise of the crazed crowd getting increasingly distant; people yelling in outrage, punctuated by the distinct sounds of Domitia cumming yet again, loudly. Becky finally hung her head for a moment, shaking it and smiling. "Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out;” she said to herself as she walked out the door. The Wrath of Rome The mightiest city in the world, lord of Europa, teeming with untold citizens, slaves and foreigners. Blessed by Jupiter, greatest of the gods, and fed by the ancient Tiber River, Rome stood glorious and invincible, crowned with seven hills like jewels. Not that Mark could see any of that from his tiny, stinky little prison cell. He sat on the dirty floor, sighing despondently as he looked through the iron bars that separated him from the rest of the world. He'd found a corner that was not sticky with the effluences of previous inhabitants of the cell, crouching up with his knees to his chest. He suspected that the tab he was wearing would protect him from disease and sickness, but he'd be damned if he was taking any chances. He heard grunting and groaning from the cells behind him, then an absolutely disgusting series of splattering noises as someone began crapping themselves messily. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion and stared along the bottom of the wall, making sure nothing was likely to seep through. He turned his head and stared blankly across the small hallway at the cell opposite. Out of the darkness, a deranged, naked man appeared, his wild, scraggly beard greying and caked with God-knows-what. He cackled at Mark and helicoptered his cock at the new prisoner, all the while trying to shake the bars of his cell. Mark shook his head and looked away, finding a spot on the wall to stare at. He noted some graffiti, in Latin, brown with age; it was either dried blood or shit, but he decided he didn't care enough about what it said to get closer. He'd taken off the ratty tunic they'd given him, because it stank and had things crawling in it. Since he'd been arrested and dragged off naked from the Flavius villa, with Domitia still impaled on him, they'd eventually attempted to cover him up; somewhat difficult, since he was suffering from what was essentially medically induced priapism. Even now, he gazed down between his legs, noticing that his cock was still rock-hard. Had the tab malfunctioned? Was he supposed to stay erect this long? What the Hell kind of sex were they having in the twenty-eighth century that a guy needed to stay hard for a day and a night? He closed his eyes and pressed his head against his forearms, trying to figure out how it had all gone wrong; how the Hell was he supposed to know that there was a Vestal Virgin hiding in the damn house and masturbating? He'd heard of Vestal Virgins, of course, but he knew nothing about them. He'd paid attention in History class only moderately more than he had in Physics. Seemingly, he'd done an incredibly bad thing. Like 'fucking a pastor's blind virgin daughter on the altar' kind of bad. As decadent as Rome might have been, you didn't mess with their Vestals. He wished Becky was here. He hadn't seen her since he'd been dragged away from the villa, and he hoped she was okay. He had no idea if she was going to be in trouble or not, since she was supposed to be his owner. He groaned and shook his head, wishing he'd just wake up and this was all a dream; “Damn!” "Shut up in there!" said one guard harshly as he walked by. "Gonna make me, tough guy?" Mark grumbled, once the chip in his head had translated what the guard said, even though he could've probably figured it out on his own. The guard whirled around and stuck his arm through the bars, trying to hit Mark with the cudgel he was carrying. Mark hurriedly dodged out of the way and grabbed the club from the man's hand; the guard's eyes widened as Mark glared down at him, much taller than his would-be assailant. Mark was just over six feet, while the Roman was maybe five-three. The man's gaze dropped to Mark's erection, which pointed at him angrily. "Listen, pal," Mark growled, beyond caring about his hard-on at this point. "Try that again, and I'll shove this club of yours so far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for a month. Got it?" The man nodded hastily, his face pale. "Good," Mark grunted, shoving the cudgel bac through the bars at him. "Now fuck off and leave me alone." The guard hurried away while the crazy guy across from Mark cackled again and babbled incoherently at his retreating form. Mark slumped back down and continued moping. He'd been in this little crap-hole for the best part of a day now, without food or a chance to relieve himself, unless he chose to piss on the floor. He felt rather justified in sulking. Several minutes passed before he was interrupted once again. "Well, you look pretty grumpy for someone who spent most of yesterday getting laid;” chimed a sweet voice. Mark's eyes flicked open and he stood up hastily, gawking at his Physics teacher, who stood outside his cell, smiling at him in amusement. "Becks!" he said hastily, wiping at himself as if he had clothes on, forgetting that he was naked. "Hi! Uh; I'm glad you're okay!" "It's good to see you too, handsome," she replied, her eyes trailing down to his erection. She was wearing the elegant stola and accoutrements of a patrician woman now, much more modest than her attire just the day before. "Guess your hormones haven't worn off yet, hmm?" "Oh, he's got a mind of his own," Mark muttered, blushing slightly. "Trust me, the lynch mob was quite a libidoectomy. Where've you been?" "Well, once you got carted off, I thought I'd better take a look into what was likely to happen to everyone involved," she stated, seemingly not that concerned. "Roman litigation is a weird thing. They have trials, and you'll have a lawyer appointed to you, but the court of public opinion really counts as well, it seems." "So, I really screwed up when I fucked one of their Vestal Virgins?" Mark asked, trying not to sweat. Becky smiled. "Mark, you had no way of knowing, because she never should have been there to begin with. Vestal Virgins don't, in theory, belong to their parents any more, after they're selected for the honor. For her to be hiding in a room in her parents' house, jilling off, is a huge breach of her vows already, never mind getting caught with you bruising her brainstem." Mark thought about that for a moment. "So; Domitia's in trouble too?" "She's in even more trouble than you, to be honest," replied the teacher, shrugging. "You, you're some shmuck slave who got lucky. Her, she broke Rome's most sacred vows. She might as well have squatted over and peed on the Sacred Flame they protect, to extinguish it. Everyone associates the Vestals with the spiritual well-being of Rome itself. If one of the Virgins is impure, it's bad for Rome." "Damn;” he said under his breath, frowning at the floor. "Well, what about you? Are you in shit at all, because you're my owner?" "Well, not so far," Becky mused. "I'm sure that can change at a moment's notice, if anything goes really wrong." "Really wrong?" Mark exclaimed, gesturing to the cell around him in exasperation. "If this is only moderately wrong, I'd hate to see what's really wrong you're going on about!" "Oh, don't be such a drama llama," she cooed, waving dismissively. "We'll figure this out." "Are you okay, Becks?" he asked, making a wry face as he looked at her. "Last time we were in trouble like this, you kinda She-Hulked out on everyone, remember? You kicked at least five people in the crotch, one of whom was Cardinal Richelieu." "Yeah," she said almost wistfully. "I think my system is flooded with hormones from those tabs, and they're making me pretty mellow. I'm still in love with you right now, for instance." "Well, not to exploit your chemical imbalance here, but what are the chances of you doing something to make sure the man you're in love with doesn't die in this cell?" Mark said rather insistently. "Oh, you won't die in this cell," Becky pointed out. "The Romans weren't big on imprisonment at this point in their history. They're probably either gonna behead you or crucify you." "Becks!" Mark said loudly, going pale and beginning to panic. "You can't let them behead me, I like my head where it is!" "Yes, you are rather attached to it," she giggled. "And don't worry about getting crucified, only I'm allowed to nail you, after all. And speaking of;” She slinked forward, smiling saucily at him, lifting the hem of her long stola, revealing her wet cunt beneath. She turned around, presenting her shapely ass to him and swaying it back and forth while looking over her shoulder at him. "How about you put that stout nail of yours in my tool box?" she purred. "Now?" he exclaimed. "Not like you have anything else to do at the moment, Mark," she pointed out, still wiggling at him. "Move up to the bars and stick it out here;” Ignoring his exasperation, Mark sighed and pressed himself up against the bards, his rigid cock sticking out the other side. Becky lined up her sticky cunt with the head and pushed herself back on it, sighing in bliss as she did. Mark trembled as he penetrated her, having to admit to himself that it felt good to be inside his teacher. Becky closed her eyes as began squirming back against him, sliding his hardness in and out of her cunt. Eighteen hours without sex had felt like eighteen years, no doubt due to the hormones from the tabs. She guessed that their bodies, new to these stimulants from the far future, were not acclimated to the effects just yet; not that she was complaining, mind. She groped and massaged her tits as they spilled out of the top of her stola, reveling in the feel of Mark's lovely cock splitting her wide and touching deep inside. She stood up and pressed back against the bars, keeping his manhood firmly locked inside herself, wiggling and swaying, but also bringing his hands around to her tits, which he now squeezed and massaged in circles, making her groan loudly. The bars kept them apart somewhat, but he was still deep inside her, and that was what counted. Until she opened her eyes and saw the crazy guy in the cell across from them, looking at her with wild eyes, his tongue lolling out of his head, and jerking his filthy cock madly. "I miss seeing your face, Mark," she decided, turning around suddenly and pressing close to him again. She made him hold the bars, steadying his throbbing cock while she sidled forward, taking him inside her cunt again, sucking in her breath. She held onto the bars as well, squirming her hips. The bars were too closely spaced together to fit her legs through and wrap them around his hips, but he was still deep enough inside her to fuck her properly. "Hmm, baby;” If any guards knew what was happening, they chose to not interfere or even be nearby. They left the wealthy patrician woman alone. Of all the places Mark had expected to fuck Becky during their temporal travels, this would have been one of the last, he had to admit. Becky pushed her lips against his, kissing him deeply and lovingly. Their tongues tangled as she fucked him, exhilarating in the feel of his hard shaft in her and knowing she was going to cum quickly, and hard. She broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, her own flashing with lust. "You gonna cum in me, Mark?" she breathed, grinding on him hard, biting her bottom lip. "I want your cum in me, baby." He nodded, breathing heavily. He'd practically forgotten about his predicament, lost in the delirium of fucking his teacher. He pumped his hips back and forth in time with her movements, her cunt tightening around him and getting wetter with every second. He felt his cock throbbing and swelling inside her. "Yes, baby," she gasped, her skin flushed pink, her body trembling as she fought to hold on a few moments longer. "Cum deep inside me, Mark; oh God;” Becky clenched her teeth and arched her back as she pushed forward with her hips, straining hard; she felt Mark push against her as hard as he could, touching her cervix, and she shuddered and moaned loudly. The dam burst and he began cumming inside her, flooding her cunt with his desire. Becky shivered in pleasure, squeezing around him. They both sighed as the orgasm finally passed, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Her fingers knotted with his and she gave him a peck on the lips before smiling. "Feel better?" she asked. "Oddly enough, yeah," he admitted, nodding. "So what do we do now? I don't wanna die here, Becks." "I know, don't worry, we'll figure it out," she replied, caressing his face with one hand while lowering the skirt of her stola with the other. "I've just gotta find out some things." "Can't we just bust me outta here and get out of Dodge?" he asked, not sure what the delay was. She gave him a quirky look. "Are we just supposed to leave Domitia to her fate? It's your fault she's doomed to death, you know. And there's also the matter of Nanu and what to do with her. We can't just prance around the timeline and mess up things with peoples' lives, Mark. I know you do it because you want to get laid, but there's still real consequences. You're living one of them." He sighed: "Yeah, you're right. I'm just worried." "I know you are, my love," she said gently, smiling warmly. "Just let me see what I can find out. Hang tight and stay out of trouble, okay?" She kissed him again lovingly and whispered something in his ear before sauntering out. He watched her leave and then sat back down, trying to ignore the fact that his hard-on was now sticky, on top of everything else. Getting shot by Richelieu may be have been ultimately worse, but this predicament was certainly less convenient. Some hours passed, and his mood decidedly did not improve. "Hello, my name is Faustus, and I am your legal representation during your trial," said a dull voice from beyond his cell. Mark's eyes drifted over to lay on a short, pudgy, balding man draped in a rather worn toga. He had some scrolls in a satchel he wore over his shoulder. He assessed Mark somewhat disinterestedly. "You are the slave Bonosus, yes?" Mark nodded. "And you are aware of the charges against you?" "Yup, I unknowingly boned a Vestal Virgin," Mark sighed, standing up, figuring he probably shouldn't be showing anyone any disrespect at this point. "What can I do for you, sir?" "Well, ignorance of the law is not likely to work as a defense in this particular instance, given the charge," Faustus said, tapping his satchel with his fingers. "Normally it might mitigate charges, but not where the Virgins are involved. At this point, I'm trying to spare you a cruel and painful death." "Swell," Mark said, his voice laden with apathy. "So, like, beheading instead of crucifixion sort of thing?" "Unless crucifixion is your preference, for some strange reason," replied the lawyer. "There is also the matter of your fee for my services in defending you?" Mark frowned: "I'm a slave, what am I supposed to be able to give you? Shouldn't you be talking to my owner, the Lady Aurora?" "The lady is proving difficult to contact, what with the entire city being in an uproar about you and all," Faustus reasoned, shrugging. "It may be up to you to see that my fees are met." "I don't have anything!" Mark protested somewhat angrily. Faustus trailed his gaze down Mark's well-built body, finally fixating on his erect cock and smiling lewdly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that;” Mark groaned and thunked his head against the iron bar that prevented his escape. He was wrong. This was worse than getting killed by Richelieu's men. Trial of Mark. Mark now found himself going through downtown Rome, but once again spending little time looking at the city; he was being hauled inside a cage on wheels along the Via Aurelia, with untold thousands of people lining the road, shouting, screaming and hissing at him. Rotten vegetables and rock-hard bread pelted his mobile prison, most of the projectiles not getting through to touch him. Mark didn't care. He stared out dully at the cacophony and churning masses of humanity, fully aware that his erect cock was pointing at them. He looked at the famed Palatine Hill and saw a large, rotund temple there, along with a vast manor. Outside the manor, standing on those distant steps, he saw many women dressed as Domitia had been, with their hair worn in the same style, staring down at him impassively. He almost laughed bitterly, knowing exactly who they are. No young person, ever, understood better than Mark now how important it was to pay attention to your studies. After all, it was about to cost him his head. His eyes widened when he saw Domitia dragged out the front doors of the manor by several servants and forced to look down at him. She seemed none the worse for wear, except for looking rather distraught and haggard. He saw, but could not hear her cry out at the sight of him, before being yanked back inside roughly, resisting the whole way. His lawyer, Faustus, had informed him that he'd be tried in a public court, his sentence determined there as well. If all went well, he wouldn't be made to wait long before his sentence was carried out. The waiting was the worst part, the lawyer assured him. The procession took forever, at least in his estimation. He was covered in tomato pulp and seeds, and bits of lettuce and other debris were sticking to him. "Will they at least allow me to bathe or clean up before my trial?" he'd complained to Faustus. He stank and he didn't like it. The lawyer said he'd see what he could do. On and on, his mobile prison rumbled slowly. They entered a crowded forum, surrounded by the white buildings Rome was renowned for. He saw several landmarks, but barely noted them. The presence of soldiers became heavier now, guarding against disturbances from the famously fickle and moody population of the city. They arrived at the courthouse, and he was hauled out of his cage by the chains his wrists were bound in. He ignored the cries and vitriol of the crowd, who had stopped throwing things, for fear of hitting a soldier or important person. At least there was that. He was brought into a small anteroom, where a pool sat in the center. He was unchained and shoved into it, allowed to bathe. Several Roman legionaries stood over him, one holding a whip in case Mark dawdled for any reason. Careful not to anger them, Mark cleaned himself diligently, but also as quickly as possible. When he got out of the pool, they dressed him in a plain but fresh tunic made of low-grade linen. There was one rather prominent problem, however, and the commander of the squad guarding him looked at Mark's crotch and scowled. "Does that thing ever go down?" he snapped. "Look, you're not as unhappy as I am about it," Mark shot back, exasperated about his condition. "Believe me! I had too many oysters at the orgy and now it won't go away." The commander thought about the predicament for a moment. He couldn't bring his prisoner into the courtroom sporting an erection. He finally ordered one of his men to tie a strap of linen around Mark's hips, keeping the obscene erection fixed flat against his belly. The legionaries chuckled as he was trussed, but then became serious as they prepared to lead him into the courtroom. Mark took a deep breath as he was led into the chamber that would determine his doom. Becky was squatting in a hallway, humming quietly as she sucked on the cock of a young lad who was running documents back and forth within the courthouse. He was pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed and moaning in pleasure as he let her work her magic. He didn't know exactly who this patrician woman was, but he wasn't about to stop her, either. Becky bobbed back and forth, swirling her tongue around his hardness and gently caressing his balls. She couldn't believe how horny she was! It had been more than twenty-four hours since the orgy and these sex stimulants were still wreaking havoc with her libido. If this kid lasted, maybe she could fuck him? She needed a good orgasm. A horn sounded outside the courthouse, and Becky paused mid-suck, opening her eyes and turning her head slightly to look in the direction of the noise, her cheek bulging comically as his cockhead pushed into it. The young man was still trembling and almost whimpering, even though she was distracted. "Damn, is it time for the trial already?" she exclaimed to herself before she stood up, straightened out her elegant stola and hurried down the hallway. The young paralegal gaped at her retreating form, his body trembling and his cock throbbing. "But I; I;” he protested, even though she was gone. He couldn't stop it. He whimpered and danced about on his toes, cum spurting from his aching cock. He grabbed his crotch and sighed deeply, doubling over at the release. Too late, he opened his eyes and noticed he'd spattered his jizz all over the documents he'd been bringing for the trial; "The accused is named Bonosus, a slave owned by Lady Aurora Horatia," announced one of the scribes in the room, a rotund chamber that had benches lining most of the walls, allowing for spectators. Today it was crowded, because the charges were so extraordinary. "Prior to this trial, the lady Horatia has been determined free of all guilt, with no investigation or charges needing to be brought forward." Becky, sitting near the trial stand, smiled and winked at the presiding praetor judge, an older, distinguished man, who subtly winked back at her before turning his attention back to Mark, staring sternly. Mark stood alone in the center of the rotunda, his hands and feet manacled, a single beam of wan light shining down on him from a hole in the center of the domed ceiling. He looked back at the judge blankly. "The accused is charged with disgracing a sacred virgin of the goddess, potentially putting great Rome in her disfavor, and such charges warrant only the ultimate of punishments, your honor!" declared a man in a well-embroidered toga made of exquisite fabric and trimmed in yellow. Mark assumed this was the lawyer meant to prosecute him. "For this heinous crime, Rome must be cleansed, to appear cleansed in the eyes of Vesta! We demand this Bonosus be burned at the stake!" Mark swallowed and looked at Faustus, who was sweating and wiping at his collarbone, trying not to fidget. People around the room were talking and whispering to one another. The judge looked down at the pudgy lawyer. "What say you on behalf of the accused, man?" "I;” he began, already faltering. "Your Honor, we feel that the defendant, being a mere slave ignorant of all law and education, had no way of knowing that he was indeed in contact with one of Rome's sacred girls. In that light, while we do not protest his guilt, we ask for clemency; lashes, if possible, or exile beyond the Empire's borders; but if he must die for this crime, let Great Rome show its much-famed mercy and give my client a swift beheading." People in the gallery began shouting angrily in protest at his words, while many of the advocates and adjudicates involved in the case began laughing derisively. Nobody seemed to be in Faustus' corner about this. Mark flicked his eyes up at Becky, and she was simply looking in impassively. A sinking feeling in his stomach took over his senses. Despite his fear, his cock throbbed in yearning at the sight of her. "Faustus, Faustus," chided the lawyer representing the city of Rome, shaking his head almost ruefully. "My dear Faustus, you are so good-hearted, but this defendant of yours did not simply assault one of the Sacred Virgins, he did not merely violate her chaste body, he sublimated her. He changed her! He has corrupted her! Bring in the girl!" Mark's eyes widened as Domitia was dragged into the chamber, clad in her sacred robes, but with strips of red fabric bound to her arms and around her forehead. She looked terrified, but then she saw Mark and her eyes widened. Before anyone could stop her, she broke free of the servants holding her and dashed forward, howling loudly and falling to her knees at his feet. Everyone gaped in astonishment as she lifted his tunic, releasing his cock from its confinement against his stomach, kissing and then sucking on it hungrily, plunging it all the way down her throat in crazed need. People howled in shock and outrage at the scene. Mark, who hadn't had any sex in over twenty-four hours and was in horny agony, groaned loudly despite himself and gripped her head, pumping his hips against her face desperately as people rushed toward him and tried to pull them apart. Someone finally managed to pry Domitia's mouth away from his cock, but when spectators tried to drag her away, she wildly latched her legs around his waist, grinding and humping at him in a desperate frenzy of lust, the skirt of her stola giving way and allowing her to spike herself onto him. The judge and other officials watched in bewilderment as the fracas stumbled around the rotunda, with people trying desperately to pull them apart. They were yanking at Domitia, who was panting and crying out in ecstasy, while Mark groaned in relief and need, despite the people clawing at him and punching him. One enterprising and rather stout legionary knelt beside the fornicators and grabbed hold of them, straining to separate them. Domitia's yelps and Mark's moans became desperate grunts to hold one to one another for several seconds. Eventually, though, Domitia's legs gave out and she was dragged back from him. Mark roared in protest as he shivered and came a split-second after she had been pulled off him. His cock, now released from its warm, wet confines, smacked the legionary across his nose and spat ropes of cum in his eye and across his face. He wailed at the sting and fell on the floor, kicking in panic and trying to wipe the spume out of his eyes. Domitia was finally restrained, and her mouth gagged to stop her howling. She continued to struggle, but it was no use. At last she sagged, seemingly exhausted. Mark looked around, finally noticing Lord Flavius and Lady Pompeneia in the crowd, looking on in horror and mortification. He glanced up at Becky, but she was looking at the ceiling and covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "This!" said the prosecutor angrily, jabbing his finger first toward Mark and then at Domitia. "This is what the accused has done to one of the sacred Virgins! Turned her into an uncontrollable harlot! She is so completely undone that she cannot think of anything except quenching the fire between her wanton loins!" Many women gasped or cried out at his unprecedented words, while men muttered to one another. Lady Pompeneia looked like she was ready to faint again. "This is an outrage!" Lord Flavius shouted furiously. "We gave our daughter to the state willingly, to fulfill her destiny as a priestess of the goddess, and now we see ourselves unfairly shamed! And this; this; slave; endangers the safety of us all, calling our favor with Vesta into question!" "Do you call charges against the Lady Horatia to ruin your good name?" asked the prosecutor coolly. "Oh, no, no, of course not," Lord Flavius said hastily, shaking his head and looking over at Lady Aurora. "She remains blameless in all of this, assuredly." Becky winked at Lord Flavius, and then subtly at the prosecutor, who smiled and winked back. "Jesus, Becks;” Mark muttered, scowling at the ground. "You've been around the pool more times than Katie Ledecky since we got here;” "Silence!" boomed the judge angrily, his face still rather purple from witnessing the lewd chaos wreaked in his court. "Centurion, strike that man if he won't show respect!" Mark grunted and staggered as the centurion standing close to him cuffed him across the ear. He stayed upright, but glowered at the man. "Wanna try that while my hands aren't cuffed, asshole?" "Silence!" roared the judge, turning purple again as other guards kept Mark from jumping on his assailant. "You are a creature of vile sin!" shouted Lord Flavius from the benches, pointing a trembling finger at Mark. "Yeah? Who cares?" Mark shot back, glaring at his host. "Your wife wasn't complaining yesterday when she rode my hog to the Promised Land, was she? No complaints from your daughter, either!" Lord Flavius howled in fury as he tried to rush the floor but was restrained. Lady Pompeneia fainted again. Another guard cuffed Mark on the back of the head, staggering him again, but this time he didn't have a snappy comeback. He looked angry, but his face had a tic suddenly. People were shouting and crying out in horror at the chaos the proceedings had become. "What manner of devil are you, boy?" the judge hissed at Mark. "Oh, I'm here to fuck every woman in Rome," Mark said sarcastically, tired of this bullshit. "I meant for a Vestal Virgin to be last, ya' know, sort of the proverbial cum icing on the titty cake. But the opportunity came up, and wham, bam, thank you, Vesta;” People shrieked in outrage, and Faustus pissed himself, staring at Mark in dumbfounded horror. "That's right, gents, line 'em up!" Mark said angrily, his face still twitching. Why was he saying these things? Was the chip in his head giving him Tourette's? He wiggled his erection before the entire room, since his tunic had got caught on it when he was separated from Domitia and it was still in plain view, glistening with her spittle and cunt juice. "Bring your uppity wives and daughters to me, I'll make 'em behave!" Faustus just threw his legal scrolls in the air and stormed off. Another legionary tried to punch Mark, but he dodged the punch and rammed his forehead into the man's nose, just avoiding his helmet. The man fell backwards, holding his face. Mark might have tried to kick him, but there were suddenly ten legionaries surrounding him, their swords pointed at his throat. Mark held very still, glowering. The judged barked for the legal scrolls he was meant to consult during this trial, but they were not to be found. He yelled for them again, and a young man barged in hastily from the back door to the rotunda, and the chamber beyond, carrying armfuls of scrolls. He dumped them on the judge's stone table and scurried off without another word. The judge made to pick up one of the documents, but paused; it was sticking to another scroll. He frowned and pulled them apart, noticing that a pearly residue was the source of the problem. Worse, the scroll pages became slippery as he tried to pry them apart. The sticky substance was all over them. And his fingers now. He quietly put the parchments down and shoved them aside. Once the judge had composed himself, clearly livid about the circus his courtroom had become, and once Mark was facing him again, he leaned in and asked a question. "Do you have anything to say before your sentence is pronounced?" "Don't you think this is enough of a sham that we should just get it over with?" Mark grumbled. "What?" the judge asked, confused. "I said, how about you get this show on the road, because thousands of my potential children have a date with your mom's face tonight!" Mark snapped, jerking slightly. What the absolute fuck was happening? He wasn't speaking Latin anymore, he was speaking Greek! "You mock us by speaking Greek?" demanded the judge, rising from his chair. "Do you seek to invalidate this court?" "This court is full of invalids already!" Mark raged, the chip inside his head sputtering. Apparently one of the blows to his head had made it misfire. "Get your mother out here already! And your daughter too!" The judge slumped back on his stone chair, as if stunned by what Mark was saying. Everyone in the court was silent, waiting to see what happened next. He turned to Domitia, who was restrained nearby. "Domitia, former daughter of the Flavian household

Asset manager Piet Vijoen has argued that people systematically overpay for insurance because they prefer the certainty of losing a little each month (i.e. the premium) rather than risk facing an uncertain loss at some point in the future. In this episode of My Money, My Lifestyle, host Maya Fisher-French debates the relevance of insurance and how much is enough with financial planners Henri le Grange and Ben Nel. Insurance is often viewed with scepticism, and many people question whether it is truly worth the investment. This episode addresses key concerns surrounding life cover, income protection, and critical illness cover, as well as how to avoid a "tick box" approach that leads to clients being overinsured and overpaying for premiums that may not align with their actual needs.   Listeners will also learn about the risks associated with age-rated premiums, which can escalate quickly and become unaffordable as individuals age.  The episode also explores the concept of self-insurance, where individuals accumulate sufficient liquid assets to cover potential liabilities without relying solely on insurance.   A personalised approach ensures that clients are not just sold a product but are guided to make informed decisions that benefit their overall financial health. This episode is a must-listen for anyone looking to navigate the often confusing world of insurance and personal finance

This is Part 2 of 6 of Epsiode 500. Enormous thanks to Humdinger Studios for hosting, filming, streaming, everything. You made all this possible.Very very gigantic thanks to Ellie for the great art on our livestream background.Vast, boundless thanks to all the many many guests who came along. You carried us with your mouths.To the TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server here who worked together, watched hours of hour nonsense and updated the sketch count.To everyone who watched, even a little bit, of the live stream (here)And all the amazing a-listeners who bought hats and supported the Pozible campaign to get Alasdair back to AustraliaTo our families, who not only put up with our nonsense but sopport it.And everyone we forgot.And you.We love you.You can now purchase A Listener hats by emailing twointhethinktank@gmail.comVisit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the Alasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and insta Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Adele Costanzo"Il burò delle persone scomparse"Readaction Editricewww.readactioneditrice.it1746. Mentre l'Europa è lacerata da un nuovo conflitto, la guerra di successione austriaca, nella Francia del Nord due ex gendarmi aprono un'agenzia – Il burò delle persone scomparse – allo scopo di “riportare ordine nel mondo e restituire i figli ai padri, i mariti alle mogli”. A essi si rivolgono Henri e Antonia per ritrovare, rispettivamente, il figlio naturale di cui non si è mai preso cura e la sorella scomparsa molti anni prima.Adele Costanzo. Nata in Calabria, vive a Roma e si occupa di editoria. Ha pubblicato L'isola di Paris (Perrone 2009) racconti, e i romanzi: Cronache della città capovolta (Perrone 2011 e ChiPiùNeArt 2019) da cui è stato tratto lo spettacolo teatrale La città capovolta, La consistenza dei cerchi sull'acqua (Lettere animate 2017), Il Grand Tour (ChiPiùNeArt 2015 e 2022) e Il secondo viaggio (ChiPiùNeArt 2022).Diventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarehttps://ilpostodelleparole.it/

What if sadness, frustration, and anger weren't problems—but instructions?In this solo episode, Michael explores three everyday emotions—sadness, frustration, and anger—and shows how each one carries a message. This episode doesn't tell you to “feel better.” It asks better questions. Why does a heavy mood arrive out of nowhere? Why does a tiny obstacle spark a huge reaction? And what if that surge of heat isn't “too much,” but a message you haven't learned to read yet?Across three familiar emotions—sadness, frustration, anger—you'll be invited to listen in new ways, try small experiments, and notice what shifts when you don't rush to fix or perform. No neat answers, just a clearer path: pause, pay attention, and let the body's signals point to the next right step. If you're curious about what your feelings are asking for, press play and find out.—-------—-------—-Episode Chapters:00:00:00 Introduction00:03:06 What Sadness Signals00:03:54 Vipassana Story: Missing Someone00:09:11 Neuroscience of Sadness (ACC/Insula)00:10:09 Power of Being Witnessed00:14:27 Numbing & Dorsal Vagal Shutdown00:16:11 Short Grounding for Sadness00:18:25 Shifting to Frustration00:24:01 Prediction Error & Dopamine Dip00:27:39 When Disagreement Triggers You00:29:10 Enter Anger: Boundary Energy00:31:06 Frustration vs. Anger (Definitions)00:32:37 Escape Room Example00:35:44 Integrating Questions00:39:40 Closing Meditation & Mantras—-------—-------—-

Hevoset ovat olleet osa Henri M. Bollströmin elämää lapsuudesta asti, ja rakkaus lajiin vei lopulta ammattiin saakka. Nyt hän pyörittää omaa valmennustallia Vermossa, jossa arki kuluu hevosten, valmennuksen ja hyvän fiiliksen merkeissä. Toimittajana on Dimitri Grönfors.

The Time Riders: Part 2 When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Always The Student. Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits, kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with each thrust he made. "Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right there;” Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him, interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits, pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air. "Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him. "You're learning." "I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not like when I'm with you." "You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?" Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy. He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher. "Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way. Your cock feels so wonderful inside me." "Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna stop fucking you." "I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a way; to fuck forever;” She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure. Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling inside her. "Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining. "Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed. She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming through him. Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for several minutes, just lying there in bliss. Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one another's mouths. "God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that sounds heavenly." "Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go boom. She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What did you say they were called? TEA?" "Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and they didn't think that was funny." "Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently. "After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you." "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through. "Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy." "Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me." "I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath house or a Parisian brothel." Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it hadn't been for his time machine. "That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated." She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect' or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do." He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it 'clock-blocking'." "You said they had no sense of humor." Becky mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways will help." He turned and looked at her. "How so?" "Well," she began, turning on her side to look at him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area, somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome." He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going. We can try finessing my control of the device." She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream." "It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right, careful practice is probably a good thing." "It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest, his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in reality." "And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into." She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers. "So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing. Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork." He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night. "So here's a question," she remarked as she watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like dealers?" He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?" "Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?" "Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got out a lot quicker than I thought I would." "I think we should find out," she reasoned. "If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you need." "Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put on his new outfit. "Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled, making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a traveler." He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done. She saw him looking at her and winked. "In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way around period garb." "I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet, however. "Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing." "I guess I just feel like it should be me paying." Mark murmured, trying not to blush. "Silly," she giggled again. "You're an eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that the time stream would be interested in?" "Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve." "Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has syphilis or tuberculosis." He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress, one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he found rather tight, especially around the crotch. "So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?" He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer in hand. 17th Century, France. "Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room. The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it down. "Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers." Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien. Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait." The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis, a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale. "Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds, since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy." "Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance, they'd arrived without incident. "Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored with our fair country." "You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting into this," he sighed. Larp?” Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should know about?" Mark inquired. "If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises," she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious." "Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I know who do that stuff are just crazy." "That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too, I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out. Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate." They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout, middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and accommodations. "You are dressed rather unusually to be walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is Henri. And yours, monsieur?" Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;” "Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia." "I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!" she hissed back. "What did the Spaniard say?" asked the portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish." "A curse of our association," she said sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French, and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some facility." "A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge Des Loups." "The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe." "Be at ease, my friends," Henri said, chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what you need." He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?" "Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat, gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help." "Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you." And with that, the man waddled off. "He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two said, but it seemed to agree with you." "We just need to mention his name when we get to the inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth century France! But then, she was fucking her former student who was a time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications with them. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before opening the faded green doors and entering. Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner. The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor. Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter, behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky addressed the man in French. "My lord the Baron is looking for clean and welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark. "Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this town worthy of his business." "If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?" She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre. Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without showing how much you actually have." Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated, putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath or food, we can provide these things as well." "Fresh food?" she asked pointedly. "Only the freshest for the lord," laughed the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?" "No, he is Spanish and speaks no French," she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me, his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now, and your finest wine, good sir." She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them. She sat down and sighed, nodding. "We'll eat and then see about the room and a bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the tub." "I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing. "I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun King, that's a little out of my league." "Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little quicker is all." A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods. "Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that." Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how hungry they were. "Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell." He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour. "I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an' then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun. It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;” "It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with, Becks;” Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;” Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached them. "Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood on a table and began capering. "How the hell does she know this song?" Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and sing. Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Un capuchon je lui donnerais Un capuchon je lui donnerais Danse, mon moine, danse! Tu n'entends pas la danse Tu n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la Tu n'entends pas mon moulin marcher. Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated. "Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he asked, utterly baffled. She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on partying. "Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;” "Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling. "You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;” "They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;” She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya' shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the crabs!" She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression. "But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th' one thing'sh; important;” She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time; our time;” She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if they're not eighteen; ya' got it?" He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can; miss, you can' "Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?" "Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking with him. "I'll be better; remember;” "Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked. "You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?" Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;” They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of laughter. They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak. "Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would you be so kind ash to show ush the way?" He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?" "You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led them up the back, away from the common room. It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning. Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious tits glistened. She grinned at her student. "See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before having to surface for air." "Jesus, you must've been down there over two minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills. "How the hell do you hold your breath that long?" Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and physical training." "Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." "Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred. "But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at holding your breath?" "Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water." She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap. He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips were dripping and looked inviting. Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip and sighed. He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more. "Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to use your tongue;” He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit. Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers raking along the iron-bound wood. "Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth!" Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point. Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing good stamina under her guidance. She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum, pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes. Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind letting her; Invasion. There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see the wicked scar on his cheek. "Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!" he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room and began searching for something. "Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away. She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was happening. "Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you' He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels ready. "A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me do all the work!" "Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do all' "Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck your brain out with a straw! Help me!" Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man, bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe. "Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of. He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled him with the chain. He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and a swollen tongue? In front of Becky? He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip. With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the room would stop spinning. Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her. "That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down. "I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor. "I do a lot of things to take out my sexual frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery, Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little steam!" "I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident. "Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!" "Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they did in his mom's tai chi class. The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the waist clumsily. Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel and rushing to Becky's side. "So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window behind them. The men closed in. There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him. "Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort." he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; click! Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had failed to go off. Was the powder wet? With a roar of fury, Becky was on him. "Get the other three!" she yelled as she rearranged his face. "I've got this one!" Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive, Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion. None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt. "C'est des conneries!" she raged as she beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no! You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire enculer, pal!" Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely taller than Becky. Had nutrition really been that bad in this era? The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were causing a stir. He looked around the room to see if any other foes were standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French. "Nique ta mere!" thump! "Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she let him back up, gasping for air. "You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that it?" She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned. "Hold him down, Mark;” she growled. Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the mechanism, cocking it. The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror as she pushed the barrel inside his ass. "Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the ceiling." Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of the man's skull. "Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly, giving the pistol a jiggle. "Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound conciliatory. "You're speaking English again." Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath. Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point. She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she encountered. "Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head." "Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered. "He told us you would be here and you have much money!" "Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's children;” She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her, without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed, not daring to move, breathing heavily. "Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering at him. "You're going to tell me where to' She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw that he was sporting a throbbing erection. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily, yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped to the ground, very unconscious. "Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I thought it was bullshit." "It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around. Fucker;” "Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a wry look. "I'm not a monster." "You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere, and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them. "Well, they had it coming," she sniffed. "They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude." She then turned and looked at him, her expression much softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have done it on my own." "Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling of guilt washing over him. She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose. "Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had this much adventure in ages." Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that compare to this, I wanna hear about them." "Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is trying to seduce you. Mark?" "I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark said, staring past her shoulder. "Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?" He indicated a direction behind her with a nod. "Voyeurs." Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway, gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up uncertainly at her approach. She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen. "Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion. "Get your sorry ass over here;” Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality. Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked. Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him. "This one's the innkeeper's daughter?" he mused, enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure." "She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed, propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was licking hungrily. "This is the other one." "You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters, given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his daughters?" "What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted, shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business." "If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair. "Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do about that Henri asshole?" "I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair. "Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me." "You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls." Mark said, smirking at her. "Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted. "Haven't been with one since then." "But I do have a question," he said, focusing past the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were." "So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking her hips. "Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from, right?" "You're thinking of that now?" she groaned through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time. Good enough?" "Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs, pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed, their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue. With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt lips and clit while the two guests fucked. "Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek, turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;” Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt. "God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?" "Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy." He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him, pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and nipped at her skin. She begged the universe n

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx : Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry expliquent les 7 niveaux de ton sommeil et ce qu'ils révèlent sur ton corps et ton esprit.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx : Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry expliquent les 7 niveaux de ton sommeil et ce qu'ils révèlent sur ton corps et ton esprit.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

This is Part 1 of 6 of Epsiode 500. Enormous thanks to Humdinger Studios for hosting, filming, streaming, everything. You made all this possible.Very very gigantic thanks to Ellie for the great art on our livestream background.Vast, boundless thanks to all the many many guests who came along. You carried us with your mouths.To the TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server here who worked together, watched hours of hour nonsense and updated the sketch count.To everyone who watched, even a little bit, of the live stream (here)And all the amazing a-listeners who bought hats and supported the Pozible campaign to get Alasdair back to AustraliaTo our families, who not only put up with our nonsense but sopport it.And everyone we forgot.And you.We love you.You can now purchase A Listener hats by emailing twointhethinktank@gmail.comVisit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the Alasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and insta Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What a year so far!! The Soul Sequence – A Year of Becoming Through Presence, Breath & Light: If you've ever wondered what Soul embodiment really looks like—not as a concept, but as a lived, daily experience—these classes offer a way in. They are tools. They are language. They are structural harmonics translated into human form.For years, I would say the phrase Light in physical form. It resonated, even when I didn't fully understand it. Looking back, I see those words were more than an affirmation—they were a signal. They were a signal from my Soul and Oversoul to my Human. They were the beginning of this journey… and the work you see here is the result. A quiet agreement to begin sequencing the pathway I hadn't yet seen.And if someone had told me at the start of 2025, “Your main work this year will be creating a living path for Oversoul-to-Soul embodiment—through class sequences, harmonic entrainment, and energetic architecture,” my Human self would've tilted her head and said with a grin, “Wait, what? Beautiful words… but ummm, how? And also, I have a bridge you can buy...wink wink.”

Catherine Girard "In violentia veritas" (Grasset)Lorsqu'elle découvre à quatorze ans qu'on la surnomme « la fille de l'assassin », Catherine Girard interroge son père Henri Girard – plus connu sous son nom de plume, Georges Arnaud, auteur notamment du célèbre roman Le Salaire de la peur. L'horreur de ce que le vieil homme lui apprend plonge l'adolescente dans le déni. Un demi-siècle plus tard, dans un geste d'amour, elle se confronte à ce passé abyssal.Le matin du 24 octobre 1941, au château d'Escoire, le père d'Henri Girard, sa tante et leur servante sont retrouvés morts, atrocement massacrés à la serpe. Seul survivant, Henri est inculpé, emprisonné dix-neuf mois dans l'un des cachots les plus insalubres de France et promis à la guillotine. Il est finalement acquitté. L'énigme du triple assassinat d'Escoire, tant de fois revisitée, ne fut jamais élucidée.Dans ce magnifique récit littéraire d'investigation familiale, Catherine Girard nous offre enfin sa vérité et évoque la violence intergénérationnelle avec une puissance et une acuité exceptionnelles.Musique : Etude opus 10 n03 de ChopinHébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Vor dem Erben kommt das Sterben. Mit: Siegfried Meisner (Erzähler), Wolfgang Völz (Henri), Gudrun Erfurth (Tante), Werner Opitz (Georg) Tontechnik: Jeannette Brand Regie: Rainer Zur Linde Produktion: SRF 1979 Dauer: 03:51

In Folge 368 blicken Max, Tobi und Henri auf den dominanten Auswärtssieg der Seahawks bei den Washington Commanders.

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx : Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry décryptent les pires conseils business… et ceux qui mènent vraiment au succès.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx : Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry décryptent les pires conseils business… et ceux qui mènent vraiment au succès.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

November 2025 marks a harmonic stillpoint—a field in which the Soul's encoded frequency no longer needs to prove itself through performance. The scaffolding has formed. The Light has anchored. This is the arc where form gently receives signal. You are not meant to push forward now. You are meant to format your field through stillness, coherence, and quiet precision.

Dmitri Schostakowitsch und Henriëtte Bosmans haben ähnliche Schicksale erlitten. Dafür steht auch der Titel des Albums, "Silenced" - und das bedeutet "zum Schweigen gebracht, mundtot gemacht". Ein spannendes Konzept.

This podcast was recorded on the road.Little Comments, Implied Universe, Milky's Beast Milk, Footopia, Edna Shelley, A Shitting Food, Attack of the Implied Universe, Overtakers Show, No Spoilers RestaurantYou can now purchase A Listener hats by emailing twointhethinktank@gmail.comCatch up on the 500th episode hereCheck out the sketch spreadsheet by Will Runt hereAnd visit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server hereHey, why not listen to Al's meditation/comedy podcast ShusherAlasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and instaAnd you can find us on the Facebook right here(Oh, and we love you) Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !

durée : 01:57:30 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Albane Penaranda, Mathias Le Gargasson, Antoine Dhulster - Par Bernard Latour - Avec Henry Corbin (auteur de ""En Islam iranien"), Amir Abbas Hoveyda (Premier ministre d'Iran), Abbas Ali Khalatbari (ministre des affaires étrangères), l'évêque de l'église arménienne de Téhéran et un libraire - réalisation : Rafik Zénine, Vincent Abouchar, Emily Vallat

Avec : Benjamin Amar, professeur d'histoire-géographie. Pierre Rondeau, économiste. Et Juliette Briens, journaliste à l'Incorrect. - Accompagnée de Charles Magnien et sa bande, Estelle Denis s'invite à la table des français pour traiter des sujets qui font leur quotidien. Société, conso, actualité, débats, coup de gueule, coups de cœurs… En simultané sur RMC Story.

Pastor Henri, our keynote speaker for our 2025 Missions Emphasis, encouraged us to take courage in our faith. If Jesus has saved us, we can face fear, temptation, and inconvenience with boldness and faith.

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx : Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry reviennent sur ces idées jugées nulles… qui ont finalement révolutionné le monde.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

This podcast was recorded on the road.Sexy Fly, Gumam Being, Hairy Bacon Job, Schneider Cut, Rooster Chicken, Privatising Clouds, Pissing Beer, Bad Altitude, Car Black Box, Sludge Couch, Oozy UziYou can now purchase A Listener hats by emailing twointhethinktank@gmail.comCatch up on the 500th episode hereCheck out the sketch spreadsheet by Will Runt hereAnd visit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server hereHey, why not listen to Al's meditation/comedy podcast ShusherAlasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and instaAnd you can find us on the Facebook right here(Oh, and we love you) Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

durée : 01:29:13 - En pistes ! du jeudi 23 octobre 2025 - par : Emilie Munera, Rodolphe Bruneau Boulmier - Au programme ce matin : Le Requiem allemand de Brahms et Les Variations Goldberg de Jean-Sébastien Bach côtoient le répertoire pour violon de Maurice Ravel, Mel Bonis, Dmitri Chostakovitch et Henriëtte Bosmans. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

durée : 01:29:13 - En pistes ! du jeudi 23 octobre 2025 - par : Emilie Munera, Rodolphe Bruneau Boulmier - Au programme ce matin : Le Requiem allemand de Brahms et Les Variations Goldberg de Jean-Sébastien Bach côtoient le répertoire pour violon de Maurice Ravel, Mel Bonis, Dmitri Chostakovitch et Henriëtte Bosmans. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

Henri Cole joins Kevin Young to read “Vita Nova,” by Louise Glück, and his own poem “Figs.” Cole is the author of many poetry collections, including “The Other Love.” He is also a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and the recipient of honors such as the Thom Gunn Award and the Jackson Poetry Prize.  Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

Henri and Bill Cash, the brotherly guitar duo behind Los Angeles glam-rock band Starcrawler, linked with PG's John Bohlinger before their gig at the Pinnacle in Nashville to show off some rose-colored rock tools. Check out highlights of their dazzling setups below, and tune into our full Rig Rundown to scope the full details.Brought to you by D'Addario.

Dans ce podcast Speakeasy by /influx, Henri, Paul Barbosa et Romain Lanéry reviennent sur les biais psychologiques qui ont conduit des géants à leur perte.Posez-nous vos questions via ce lien : https://www.speakpipe.com/SpeakeasyRéagissez au podcast sur les réseaux avec le hashtag #SpeakeasyByInflux et en nous @ :https://www.instagram.com/paulbarbosa/https://www.instagram.com/hardisk/https://www.instagram.com/romainlanery/Production /influxProd - https://www.influxprod.com/© 2025 Tous droits réservés. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

durée : 00:29:51 - Une histoire particulière - par : Stéphane Bonnefoi - Ils s'appellent Sébastien, Henri ou Nathalie, et chaque semaine, ils livrent leur regard généreux, sans concessions, sur leur monde et celui qui les entoure... - réalisation : Assia Veber

durée : 00:29:51 - Une histoire particulière - par : Stéphane Bonnefoi - Ils s'appellent Sébastien, Henri ou Nathalie, et chaque semaine, ils livrent leur regard généreux, sans concessions, sur leur monde et celui qui les entoure... - réalisation : Assia Veber

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In Ballhawks-Folge Nr. 363 sprechen Dominik und Henri über das kommende Heimspiel gegen die Houston Texans.

In this insightful episode of Henri's Bookshelf, host Wendy VanderWal Martin is joined by her daughter Renate Carson to dive deep into Henri Nouwen's powerful work Peacework. The episode explores how Nouwen's teachings on peacemaking—rooted in prayer, resistance, and community—remain relevant in today's divided world. Renate, a theology and culture student at St. Stephen University, shares her personal journey of connecting with Henri's ideas and how they resonate with her generation's search for meaning in a fractured society. From her own reflections on peacemaking, including the role of prayer in daily life and how small acts of hospitality, like cooking with intention, can affirm life and resist harmful systems, Renate brings a fresh perspective to the timeless wisdom of Henri Nouwen. The conversation also touches on the complexities of interfaith relationships, especially in a time of polarization, and how living out one's vocation as a peacemaker requires both courage and humility. This episode challenges listeners to rethink what it means to be a peacemaker in a world that often feels increasingly divided. Henri's call to "move out of the house of fear toward the house of love" is a message that resonates now more than ever. Whether you're familiar with Henri Nouwen's work or encountering it for the first time, this episode will inspire you to consider how prayer, resistance, and community can shape your own path to peace. Tune in to discover how simple yet profound actions can contribute to a world of healing and reconciliation. Check out St. Stephen's University: https://www.ssu.ca/ ___________ Book Discussed: Peacework https://amzn.to/3hGh1w2 (US) https://amzn.to/2zHjnd3 (Canada) ___________ SUPPORT THIS PODCAST: henrinouwen.org/donate/ * SIGN UP FOR FREE DAILY E-MEDITATIONS: henrinouwen.org/meditation/ * MORE FREE RESOURCES: henrinouwen.org/ * FOLLOW US ON SOCIAL MEDIA: INSTAGRAM: www.instagram.com/henrinouwensociety/ TWITTER: twitter.com/nouwensociety FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/nouwensociety/ PINTEREST: www.pinterest.ca/henrinouwen/

No século XIX, enquanto a fumaça das fábricas cobria as cidades e histórias como a de Fantine, de Os Miseráveis, escancaravam a miséria urbana, um grupo de pensadores tentou imaginar saídas para além do improviso: Charles Fourier, Robert Owen e Henri de Saint-Simon. Este vídeo visita a vida real por trás da Revolução Industrial — jornadas exaustivas, workhouses, epidemias — e apresenta os projetos que propuseram comunidades organizadas, educação infantil, higiene, novas formas de associação e participação nos resultados. Sem panfletos e sem demonizações, investigamos o que esses experimentos queriam resolver, por que empolgaram tanta gente e por que muitos fracassaram.Também mostramos como essas ideias dialogaram (e colidiram) com correntes liberais de Smith e Ricardo, e depois com a crítica de Karl Marx, que trocou a esperança gradualista pelo choque revolucionário, que acabou por parir uma ideologia que matou milhões de pessoas. O objetivo é entender as perguntas que permanecem atuais: como conciliar produtividade com dignidade? o que políticas públicas e iniciativa privada aprenderam com New Lanark, New Harmony e os falanstérios? e por que a promessa de “sociedades perfeitas” volta e meia ressurge em novas roupagens?Se você curte história econômica e quer enxergar além do meme “capitalismo vs socialismo”, este episódio é para você. Inscreva-se, deixe seu comentário e diga: qual experiência histórica mais te surpreendeu e o que dela ainda faz sentido hoje?

Send us a textOn this episode: Joined by recent Uni grad Henri, the crew discusses Cayman's new tourism ad campaign & the Women's Empowerment Brunch to wild age-gap debates, the team breaks down local headlines & pop culture moments with their signature wit. Chris vents about being sick, Kvsha recaps her weekend, & questions the state of Cayman's healthcare system and politics. Plus, a little talk about Bad Bunny headlining the Super Bowl, Taylor Swift controversy, and what men and women really bring to the table in modern relationships.

Fluent Fiction - French: Mont-Saint-Michel: A Guide's Journey Through Time & Storm Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-15-07-38-20-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Mont-Saint-Michel se dresse fièrement, entouré de brumes automnales et de vagues qui carressent ses murs millénaires.En: Mont-Saint-Michel stands proudly, surrounded by autumn mists and waves that caress its ancient walls.Fr: Les chemins pavés, ornés de feuilles dorées, serpentent entre les bâtiments médiévaux, créant une atmosphère mystérieuse et envoûtante.En: The cobblestone paths, adorned with golden leaves, wind between the medieval buildings, creating a mysterious and captivating atmosphere.Fr: Luc, un guide passionné, se prépare pour une nouvelle saison de visites.En: Luc, a passionate guide, is preparing for a new season of tours.Fr: Il aime l'histoire et le partage.En: He loves history and sharing it.Fr: Aujourd'hui, un grand groupe arrive.En: Today, a large group is arriving.Fr: C'est une journée d'automne froide, mais Luc est optimiste.En: It's a cold autumn day, but Luc is optimistic.Fr: Il attend beaucoup de cette journée.En: He expects a lot from this day.Fr: Claudine, son amie depuis des années, l'encourage toujours.En: Claudine, his friend for years, always encourages him.Fr: Elle est là ce matin pour l'aider à organiser les derniers détails.En: She is there this morning to help him organize the last details.Fr: "Tu vas faire un travail fantastique, Luc.En: "You're going to do a fantastic job, Luc.Fr: J'en suis sûre," dit-elle en souriant.En: I'm sure of it," she says with a smile.Fr: Henri, un collègue guide, apporte des parapluies.En: Henri, a fellow guide, brings over umbrellas.Fr: Il jette un œil au ciel.En: He glances at the sky.Fr: Les nuages deviennent sombres.En: The clouds are becoming dark.Fr: "Ça ne s'annonce pas bien," murmure-t-il.En: "It doesn't look good," he murmurs.Fr: Luc regarde les nuages et sent une pointe d'anxiété.En: Luc looks at the clouds and feels a hint of anxiety.Fr: Le groupe arrive, joyeux et curieux.En: The group arrives, cheerful and curious.Fr: Luc leur fait signe de venir.En: Luc motions for them to come over.Fr: "Bienvenue au Mont-Saint-Michel !En: "Welcome to Mont-Saint-Michel!Fr: Suivez-moi pour une aventure à travers le temps."En: Follow me for an adventure through time."Fr: Sa voix est pleine d'enthousiasme, et les visiteurs sourient.En: His voice is full of enthusiasm, and the visitors smile.Fr: Soudain, le vent se lève.En: Suddenly, the wind picks up.Fr: La pluie commence à tomber, doucement d'abord, puis en grosses gouttes.En: The rain starts to fall, softly at first, then in large drops.Fr: Luc reste calme.En: Luc remains calm.Fr: Il pense vite.En: He thinks quickly.Fr: "Veuillez me suivre," dit-il avec assurance.En: "Please follow me," he says with confidence.Fr: Il conduit le groupe vers l'abbaye, un lieu sûr.En: He leads the group to the abbey, a safe place.Fr: À l'intérieur, l'ambiance est différente.En: Inside, the atmosphere is different.Fr: La lumière filtre à travers les vitraux.En: Light filters through the stained glass.Fr: L'endroit est majestueux.En: The place is majestic.Fr: Luc sait qu'il doit garder l'attention du groupe.En: Luc knows he must keep the group's attention.Fr: Il commence à raconter des histoires fascinantes sur les moines, les pèlerins et les légendes du Mont-Saint-Michel.En: He begins to tell fascinating stories about the monks, the pilgrims, and the legends of Mont-Saint-Michel.Fr: Il partage aussi des anecdotes personnelles, rappelant ses premières visites ici, enfant.En: He also shares personal anecdotes, recalling his first visits here as a child.Fr: La pluie s'intensifie à l'extérieur, tapant fortement sur les murs, mais le groupe est captivé.En: The rain intensifies outside, pounding hard on the walls, but the group is captivated.Fr: Les histoires de Luc réchauffent l'atmosphère et l'imagination s'envole.En: Luc's stories warm the atmosphere, and their imagination takes flight.Fr: Les heures passent.En: Hours pass.Fr: La tempête finit par se calmer.En: The storm eventually calms.Fr: Luc regarde par une fenêtre.En: Luc looks out a window.Fr: Les nuages s'éclaircissent, et le soleil réapparaît, baignant le Mont-Saint-Michel d'une lueur dorée.En: The clouds clear, and the sun reappears, bathing Mont-Saint-Michel in a golden glow.Fr: Le groupe se prépare à partir.En: The group prepares to leave.Fr: Les visages sont illuminés par des sourires.En: Their faces are lit up with smiles.Fr: Une dame remercie Luc.En: A lady thanks Luc.Fr: "Merci pour ce moment inoubliable," dit-elle.En: "Thank you for this unforgettable moment," she says.Fr: D'autres acquiescent, manifestant leur gratitude avec chaleur.En: Others nod, expressing their gratitude warmly.Fr: Alors que le groupe s'éloigne, Luc respire profondément.En: As the group walks away, Luc takes a deep breath.Fr: Il se sent changé.En: He feels changed.Fr: Il a découvert en lui une nouvelle confiance, une capacité à s'adapter.En: He has discovered a new confidence in himself, an ability to adapt.Fr: Se tournant vers Claudine et Henri, il dit, "Aujourd'hui, j'ai vraiment senti que c'était ma place."En: Turning to Claudine and Henri, he says, "Today, I truly felt that this is my place."Fr: Henri lui tape sur l'épaule.En: Henri pats him on the shoulder.Fr: "Tu étais incroyable, Luc.En: "You were incredible, Luc.Fr: Avec toi, l'histoire prend vie."En: With you, history comes to life."Fr: Luc se sent fier et heureux.En: Luc feels proud and happy.Fr: Ce jour-là, le Mont-Saint-Michel a repris une fois de plus, parmi ses murs anciens, un chapitre nouveau de l'histoire humaine, gravé dans les cœurs par la passion d'un homme simple et dévoué.En: That day, Mont-Saint-Michel welcomed once again, among its ancient walls, a new chapter of human history, etched into hearts by the passion of a simple and dedicated man. Vocabulary Words:the mist: la brumethe wave: la vagueto caress: caresserthe cobblestone: le chemin pavéto wind: serpenterthe atmosphere: l'atmosphèrethe guide: le guideoptimistic: optimisteto encourage: encouragerthe umbrella: le parapluieanxiety: l'anxiétécheerful: joyeuxto pick up (wind): se lever (vent)confidence: l'assurancemajestic: majestueuxthe monk: le moinethe pilgrim: le pèlerinthe legend: la légendeanecdote: l'anecdoteto recall: rappelerto intensify: s'intensifiercaptivated: captivéto bathe: baignerthe glow: la lueurgratitude: la gratitudeto adapt: s'adapterto pat on the shoulder: taper sur l'épauleproud: fierto engrave: graverdedicated: dévoué

Europe has a new monarch! On the 3rd of October, 2025 Grand Duke Henri of Luxembourg abdicated the throne. And his son, Prince Guillaume was sworn in as the nation's new Grand Duke. Let's explore the history of this small, but ancient monarchy, learn what a Grand Duke actually is, meet the old and new Grand Dukes and their Grand Duchesses, and find out what happened at this royal event! Join me every Tuesday when I'm Spilling the Tea on History! Check out my Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/lindsayholiday Follow me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100091781568503 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/historyteatimelindsayholiday/ Tik Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@historyteatime Please consider supporting me at https://www.patreon.com/LindsayHoliday and help me make more fascinating episodes! Intro Music: Baroque Coffee House by Doug Maxwell Music: Brandenburg Concerto No4-1 BWV1049 - Classical Whimsical by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Source: http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/index.html?isrc=USUAN1100303 Artist: http://incompetech.com/ #HistoryTeaTime #LindsayHoliday Please contact ⁠⁠advertising@airwavemedia.com⁠⁠ if you would like to advertise on this podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

durée : 00:59:55 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Philippe Garbit - En 1986, à l'occasion des cinquante ans de la Cinémathèque française et de la parution de deux ouvrages consacrés à son co-fondateur Henri Langlois, l'émission les "Nuits magnétiques" dresse un portrait croisé d'une personnalité forte, passionnée, unanimement reconnue mais parfois contestée. - réalisation : Virginie Mourthé - invités : Henri Langlois Conservateur, collectionneur, critique, co-fondateur de la Cinémathèque française (1914-1977); Georges Franju; Françoise Jaubert Collaboratrice d'Henri Langlois (1928-1991); Yvonne Dornès Femme de lettres et féministe française (1910-1994); Jean Narboni Historien, théoricien et critique de cinéma

Fluent Fiction - French: The Pigeon that Inspired a Melody in Montmartre Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-12-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le vent frais d'automne soufflait doucement sur Montmartre.En: The cool autumn wind gently blew over Montmartre.Fr: Les rues pavées, parsemées de feuilles dorées, formaient un tableau pittoresque pour les passants.En: The cobblestone streets, sprinkled with golden leaves, formed a picturesque scene for passersby.Fr: Élodie et Baptiste étaient assis à une petite table ronde sur la terrasse d'un café animé.En: Élodie and Baptiste were seated at a small round table on the terrace of a lively café.Fr: La vue du Sacré-Cœur en arrière-plan ajoutait une touche magique à l'atmosphère.En: The view of the Sacré-Cœur in the background added a magical touch to the atmosphere.Fr: Élodie, enveloppée dans son écharpe vintage, savourait un croissant croustillant.En: Élodie, wrapped in her vintage scarf, was savoring a crispy croissant.Fr: Baptiste sirotait un café, une mélodie flottant dans son esprit.En: Baptiste was sipping a coffee, a melody floating in his mind.Fr: C'était un moment parfait... jusqu'à l'arrivée d'Henri, le pigeon local.En: It was a perfect moment... until the arrival of Henri, the local pigeon.Fr: Henri avait un regard déterminé et un faible pour les pâtisseries.En: Henri had a determined look and a weakness for pastries.Fr: D'un coup d'œil, il repéra la table d'Élodie et Baptiste.En: With a glance, he spotted Élodie and Baptiste's table.Fr: Hop !En: Hop!Fr: Il s'approcha en tapotant sur le pavé.En: He approached, tapping on the cobblestones.Fr: Baptiste fronça les sourcils.En: Baptiste furrowed his brow.Fr: Élodie, amusée, fit glisser des miettes au sol pour tenter de détourner l'ennemi à plumes.En: Élodie, amused, slid some crumbs to the ground to try and divert the feathered foe.Fr: Mais Henri était tenace.En: But Henri was tenacious.Fr: Il sauta directement sur la table, dansant de manière comique.En: He jumped straight onto the table, dancing comically.Fr: Baptiste, mi-exaspéré, mi-fasciné, hésitait.En: Baptiste, half-exasperated, half-fascinated, hesitated.Fr: Devait-il déplacer leurs affaires à l'intérieur du café ou immortaliser ce spectacle pour une nouvelle composition ?En: Should he move their things inside the café or immortalize this spectacle for a new composition?Fr: Élodie gloussa en voyant le pigeon faire des pirouettes autour des tasses et des assiettes.En: Élodie chuckled as she watched the pigeon pirouette around the cups and plates.Fr: Sa main saisit un crayon ; elle commença à esquisser la scène.En: Her hand grabbed a pencil; she began sketching the scene.Fr: Baptiste, inspiré par le battement des ailes et la danse inattendue d'Henri, entendit une mélodie se former dans sa tête.En: Baptiste, inspired by the flapping wings and Henri's unexpected dance, heard a melody forming in his head.Fr: Au moment où le pigeon fit une dernière révérence en sautillant du bord de la table, quelque chose d'incroyable se produisit.En: At the moment the pigeon took a final bow, hopping off the table's edge, something incredible happened.Fr: Baptiste ferma les yeux, ressentant l'inspiration comme une vague.En: Baptiste closed his eyes, feeling inspiration like a wave.Fr: Il nota quelques accords sur une serviette pendant qu'Élodie terminait son dessin.En: He jotted down a few chords on a napkin while Élodie finished her drawing.Fr: Ils rirent ensemble, étonnés par le drôle de spectacle qu'avait offert Henri.En: They laughed together, amazed by the funny show Henri had offered.Fr: Ce petit désagrément s'était transformé en source de joie et de créativité.En: This little inconvenience had turned into a source of joy and creativity.Fr: Élodie rangea son carnet de croquis, satisfaite du résultat.En: Élodie put away her sketchbook, satisfied with the result.Fr: Finalement, alors que l'après-midi s'étirait et que la lumière dorée couvrait Montmartre, Baptiste et Élodie remontèrent la rue, un air chantant dans l'esprit et un sourire aux lèvres.En: Finally, as the afternoon stretched on and the golden light covered Montmartre, Baptiste and Élodie walked up the street, a tune singing in their minds and smiles on their faces.Fr: Ce jour-là, ils avaient appris à trouver de l'inspiration et du bonheur même dans les moments imprévus.En: That day, they had learned to find inspiration and happiness even in unexpected moments.Fr: Et qui sait, peut-être que la prochaine fois qu'ils savoureraient un croissant, Henri serait là, prêt à danser à nouveau.En: And who knows, maybe next time they savored a croissant, Henri would be there, ready to dance again. Vocabulary Words:the wind: le ventthe terrace: la terrasseautumn: automnethe pigeon: le pigeonthe scarf: l'écharpethe napkin: la serviettethe cobblestones: le pavéthe crumbs: les miettesthe sketchbook: le carnet de croquisa melody: une mélodiethe chords: les accordsthe afternoon: l'après-midia glance: un coup d'œilthe feathered foe: l'ennemi à plumestenacious: tenaceto chuckle: glousserto furrow: froncerthe brow: les sourcilsthe inspiration: l'inspirationto jot down: noterto savor: savourercrispy: croustillantto hop: sautillerdetermined: déterminéthe pastry: la pâtisseriethe tune: l'airto pirouette: faire des pirouettesto sketch: esquisserpicturesque: pittoresqueto hesitate: hésiter

Welcome to "Norm! A Cheers Podcast." We continue our discussion of Cheers Season 11 with a a referendum on France as Sam and Henri compete for the honor of their nations in "The Magnificent Six."Please follow us on Twitter (@cheers_norm), like our page on Facebook (@normcheerspodcast), and email us at normcheerspodcast@gmail.com.Thanks for listening!

Henri de Lubac is not well known by most Catholics, but the upcoming documentary is hoping to change that... See More of the De Lubac Film Here: https://m9b.185.myftpupload.com/ Purchase Henri De Lubac's Books Here: https://ignatius.com/authors/henri-de-lubac/   Cardinal Henri de Lubac was a French theologian who lived in Europe during the tumultuous 20th century. He survived the front-line trenches of World War I and participated in the French Resistance of World War II. He lived to see the murder of the last Tsar of Russia, all the way to the fall of the Berlin Wall. During his life, he was known as a controversial theologian who was eventually elevated to a Cardinal by Pope Saint John Paul II and participated in the Second Vatican Council. Today, we are joined by Geoffrey Zokal and Sam Soruch, who are creating a detailed documentary about Henri de Lubac. In this episode, they not only comment on the extraordinary life of Henri de Lubac, but also touch on some of the more controversial elements of his theology. They remark on both his profound wisdom and theological insight as well as his great personal humility and holiness.   SUBSCRIBE to our channel and never miss an episode of the Ignatius Press Podcast. You can also listen to the podcast on Apple, Spotify, and other podcast platforms. Follow us on social media: Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/IgnatiusPress Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ignatiuspress Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ignatius_press/   Watch Things Hidden: The Life and Legacy of René Girard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-vB1HaBsog&t=44s   Lumen Christi Institute: https://lumenchristi.org/   Music from Pexels, Gregor Quendel. https://www.classicals.de/legal

Please do head to our Pozible to buy Live Show tickets, A Listener hats, and support the 500th ep. Thank you. It means the world.Reverse Zoo, Digital Tapestry, Shark Tank with Magicians, Tongue Sojourn, Used Mattress Salesman, Victoria Cross, Getting Even with Chris, Make Old Signs OldCheck out Andy's beloved, Carly, in this comedy musical at the Melbourne FringeCheck out the sketch spreadsheet by Will Runt hereAnd visit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server hereHey, why not listen to Al's meditation/comedy podcast ShusherDon't forget TITTT Merch is now available on Red Bubble. Head over here and grab yourselves some material objectsAlasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and instaAnd you can find us on the Facebook right here(Oh, and we love you) Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Découvrez la collection « Nos rois de France » par Frank Ferrand, la série d'émissions de Franck Ferrand dédiée aux rois de France, de François 1er à Henri IV en passant par Louis XIV et Louis XV ! Une série inédite à retrouver dans le livre « Nos rois de France » de Frank Ferrand aux Editions Perrin. Co-écrit avec Anne-Louise Sautreuil et Pierre-Louis Lensel.  Mention légales : Vos données de connexion, dont votre adresse IP, sont traités par Radio Classique, responsable de traitement, sur la base de son intérêt légitime, par l'intermédiaire de son sous-traitant Ausha, à des fins de réalisation de statistiques agréées et de lutte contre la fraude. Ces données sont supprimées en temps réel pour la finalité statistique et sous cinq mois à compter de la collecte à des fins de lutte contre la fraude. Pour plus d'informations sur les traitements réalisés par Radio Classique et exercer vos droits, consultez notre Politique de confidentialité.Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Histoire d'une vie est un podcast issu des archives d'Europe 1. - Présentation : Marc Menant  - Production : Clara Leger et Armelle Thiberge - Réalisation : Julien Tharaud  - Diffusion : Clara Ménard   Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

durée : 00:44:30 - On n'arrête pas l'éco - par : Alexandra Bensaid - Au menu ce samedi : un focus sur le ferroviaire. Reportage sur nos infrastructures en état d'urgence et entretien avec le patron d'Alstom. Mais avant, un débat sur certaines pistes du budget 2026. Heures supplémentaires, CSG, prime Macron... Comment faire en sorte que le travail paie plus ? Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

durée : 00:11:37 - L'Invité d'On n'arrête pas l'éco - par : Alexandra Bensaid - Train, métro tram, Alstom est le numéro 2 mondial du ferroviaire. Attractivité du rail face à l'avion, concurrence chinoise, train du futur... Henri Poupart Lafarge, directeur général du groupe, est l'invité d'Alexandra Bensaid. - invités : Henri Poupart-Lafarge - Henri Poupart-Lafarge : PDG d'Alstom Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

Gm! This week Henri Stern joins the show to discuss why Stripe acquired the wallet infrastructure company Privy. We deep dive into Stripe's crypto strategy, crypto payments, Henri's Solana thesis, what does crypto need to improve & more. Enjoy! -- Follow Henri: https://x.com/henri_stern Follow Jack: https://x.com/whosknave Follow Lightspeed: https://twitter.com/Lightspeedpodhq Subscribe to the Lightspeed Newsletter: https://blockworks.co/newsletter/lightspeed Join the Lightspeed Telegram: https://t.me/+QUl_ZOj2nMJlZTEx -- Crypto's premiere institutional conference returns to London in October 2025. Use code LIGHT100 for £100 off at checkout: https://blockworks.co/event/digital-asset-summit-2025-london -- Katana directs chain revenue back to DeFi users for consistently higher yields. It starts with VaultBridge, which turns bridged assets into yield streams that back a perpetually funded real yield, boosting rewards for DeFi users. Katana is pioneering Productive TVL, assets actually being used in DeFi and reinforces this with Chain-owned Liquidity, permanent liquidity the chain controls. Stop sleeping on your bags: https://app.katana.network/?utm_source=BW-Pod -- Get top market insights and the latest in crypto news. Subscribe to Blockworks Daily Newsletter: https://blockworks.co/newsletter/ -- (00:00) Introduction (03:03) Why Did Stripe Acquire Privy? (11:22) Katana Ad (12:24) Behind Stripe's Crypto Strategy (19:07) Are Crypto Payment Rails Actually Better? (25:55) The Solana Thesis (38:08) Katana Ad (39:11) The Business Behind Crypto Wallets (47:38) What Does Crypto Need To Improve? (57:36) Agentic Payments -- Disclaimers: Lightspeed was kickstarted by a grant from the Solana Foundation. Nothing said on Lightspeed is a recommendation to buy or sell securities or tokens. This podcast is for informational purposes only, and any views expressed by anyone on the show are solely our opinions, not financial advice. Jack, and our guests may hold positions in the companies, funds, or projects discussed.

Please do head to our Pozible to buy Live Show tickets, A Listener hats, and support the 500th ep. Thank you. It means the world.Organ Chat, Now Orifice - New Insult, Personified Organs, New Failure, GS, Post Mix Ejaculate, Raci-turg, Drink Wrestling, Hotdog Straw, New Town CuisineCheck out Andy's beloved, Carly, in this comedy musical at the Melbourne FringeCheck out the sketch spreadsheet by Will Runt hereAnd visit the Think Tank Institute website:Check out our comics on instagram with Peader Thomas at Pants IllustratedOrder Gustav & Henri from Andy and Pete's very own online shopYou can support the pod by chipping in to our patreon here (thank you!)Join the other TITTT scholars on the TITTT discord server hereHey, why not listen to Al's meditation/comedy podcast ShusherDon't forget TITTT Merch is now available on Red Bubble. Head over here and grab yourselves some material objectsAlasdair Tremblay-Birchall: @alasdairtb and instaAnd you can find us on the Facebook right here(Oh, and we love you) Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.