Podcasts about Holy Mother

[EP 25-128] The Deep State's Imaginary Witch Hunts—and the Very Real Spies They Expose Scott Adams quipped on X: "Maybe Trump could create a Department of Imaginary Concerns to handle Democrat complaints. The new department would have imaginary policies to solve the imaginary worries." Truer words have never been tweeted.The Left specializes in manufacturing crises and witch hunts, like Russian collusion. Holy Mother of Chelsea, we certainly found the real witch when we got to the bottom of that story. And what of the Ukraine call "scandal", where Vindman lied about what he heard on that classified call? Today, we have Signal-Gate, the latest farce where an Atlantic reporter, Jeffrey Goldberg was mysteriously added to a Signal chat involving Trump administration officials supposedly discussing military plans.In this cruel joke Democrats played on themselves, here's the punchline: the only real crime was the infiltration itself. From "Top Secret" to "Sensitive"—The Narrative Collapse First, the media shrieked about "top-secret war plans." Then it was "classified." Now? "Sensitive." The goalposts keep moving because the story was always a North Korean scud missile. A dud.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-kevin-jackson-show--2896352/support.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.“  As we read through the stories of the desert fathers and the trials and temptations they experienced in relation to their passions, we began to see with greater clarity how we must cling to God and rely on His grace. No matter how disciplined or virtuous an individual may be the wiles of the devil are always going to be relentless and fierce. If the Evil One can appear as an “angel of light”, then he most assuredly can present a thought to the mind that leads one to assent to sin or present himself as the very object of temptation. In the stories of the fathers tonight, the object of temptation was women or thoughts about them that arise through direct contact, conversation or imagination.  It would be very easy for us and it is often a danger when the Fathers are read out of context to have our thoughts devolve into a negative anthropology - a negative image of what it is to be a human being as well as a sexual being. In hearing some of the stories, one might think that the monks simply sought to destroy this part of themselves or to bury it whether consciously or unconsciously. Perhaps it was simply a manifestation of masochistic repression. Thus, we must read these stories in a discerning fashion. Yet, even more so, we must read them in context; not only in the context of the larger corpus of the writings we are considering, but in the context of our spiritual lives. For it is only within our own hearts that we begin to understand the nature of human desire as part of our identity and experience of the world. It is also only within our hearts that we understand that desire gives us the capacity to love and give ourselves in love. The ascetic life must reveal that we understand that we are created in the image and likeness of God and that with which He has endowed us is good. It only becomes destructive when it is distorted by sin and selfishness. We must also understand that these desires are very powerful – capable of leading us to great good or, outside of the grace of God, to become something that brings us unending grief. We must read the Fathers writings, then, within the context of interiorizing the worldview rooted in faith that they put forward. Do we desire what they desired? Are longing for God and the desire to please him the reality that drives us forward in our day-to-day lives? Do we understand that it is only by living in the grace of God, living in Christ, that we become fully human? --- Text of chat during the group: 00:19:21 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 221 # D 00:28:08 Rebecca Thérèse: Do you think that lack of asceticism is a cause of clergy or monks perpetrating abuse or could it  an indicator that perhaps abusers have entered these vocations/occupations with nefarious motives hence they would not be committed to the more challenging aspects of these ways of life? 01:01:49 Forrest Cavalier: Father, I expected to see the mention that desire for sexual relations outside of matrimony is irrational selfishness (especially victimizing women and offspring), and use the contemplation of that realization to dissuade the passions. But I haven't noticed that in any of these stories so far, which combat the temptation with physical activity (fasting, fleeing, burning) only. Am I missing it? It seems the intellect is ignored. 01:06:47 Mary Clare Wax: The tender love of a perfect Mother, the Mother of God, and consecrating ourselves to her Immaculate Heart is very powerful in this day and age. When we do this, it is like riding the waves of grace rather than being tumbled underneath them. 01:07:11 Sr. Charista Maria: Reacted to "The tender love of a..." with

Lecture by Swami Tyagananda, given on December 15, 2024, at the Ramakrishna Vedanta Society, Boston, MA

Join Fr. Hollowell for Day 1 of the Our Lady of Lourdes Novena as we seek the intercession of the Blessed Mother for healing, strength, and deeper faith. Let us pray together in preparation for her feast day, trusting in her motherly care and the power of prayer. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Our Lady of Lourdes, we come to you like little Bernadette at the grotto. We pray with childlike trust in you. Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, when you appeared in Lourdes, you made it a holy sanctuary where many have obtained the cure of their infirmities, both spiritual and corporal. We pray with confidence for your holy intercession. (State your intentions here) Holy Mother of the Rosary, we feel confident that your prayers on our behalf will be graciously heard by God. Immaculate Mother, give us what your motherly heart sees we need at this moment. Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, we fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, our mother; to thee do we come, before thee we stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not our petitions, but in thy mercy, hear and answer us. Amen. Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us! Saint Bernadette, pray for us! Amen. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Welcome to All Saints Parish's Livestream! Thank you for joining us in prayer today. We are grateful to have you as part of our parish family.

Fellatio Rites for the Ghost of John WesleyA Series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Jenna took a deep breath as she approached Oakwood Road Methodist Church."Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Reverend Morris asked.She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine Simon. You don't need to worry. It's the ghost of John Wesley, not Jack the Ripper. This is exciting! I hope he'll appear!""Right, well, I'll be sat in the car then. I hope you won't be too long. Remember, just turn and run the moment you feel in any way uncomfortable.""Reverend Morris, I think you're scared!""No I'm not! I can't help being concerned for the safety of the woman I love can I? Aren't you a tiny bit nervous?""I'm as cool as spring water," Jenna replied. "I was reading all about John Wesley last night. He was a true gentleman. I'm sure this won't take long."Reverend Morris nodded as he watched his wife enter the church. "Well if anyone can fix this, Jenna can. I don't know what she said to the Archbishop of Canterbury last week, but he changed his mind about the wall plaque faster than the Government does U-turns. I wonder what she said to him? Whatever it was, Justin Welby was impressed!"He reclined in his car seat. "I was so lucky to meet Jenna. Of course, it was God who delivered her to me. That fateful Sunday morning in the vestry, oh."Father Aiden was walking along the street. Many things were on his mind. He had some important decisions to make about his future in the priesthood. Briefly glancing up from his smartphone, his heart jumped as he spotted Jenna entering the Methodist church across the road."Holy Mother, " he muttered. A rush of excitement swept over him as he recalled the intimate encounter he'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. It was that which had spurred him to think about his future. He quickly crossed the road."Hello Father!"The priest almost dropped his phone. Someone was shouting at him from a parked car."Oh, Reverend Morris. Hello there." Damn, no chance of a repeat encounter, he thought. "I've just seen your wife going into the Methodist church.""Yes, I hope she won't be long. I'm just waiting for her.""Are you alright? You look a bit anxious, if you don't mind me saying.""It's a long story, Father. I think you'd better sit down in the passenger seat and I'll tell you. You've not heard about what's been going on in Oakwood Road church have you?"The priest looked confused. "Nope. Tell me more!" He opened the car door and sat down. I could do to unburden myself too.""Okay, well, this might sound a bit weird.""I can handle anything weird," Father Aiden replied."It's about ghosts. As a Catholic, what are your thoughts on them and have you ever seen one?"Father Aiden thought about his answer very carefully. "Hmm. In theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human beings have "lost" their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is real.""So you've seen one?""Yes. Two actually. Once in Ireland when I was a child and another when I was based in Liverpool. I was called upon to rid a family's home of a troubled spirit."Reverend Morris looked relieved. "That's good to know.""The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one is in 1 Samuel 28:8--20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel." Father Aiden replied. "Have you seen a ghost?""Yes. And not just any ghost, but the ghost of John Wesley! He's haunting the Methodist church. That's why I'm here. Jenna's gone in there to try and help him return to, the other side.""Oh I see, then she must, wait, what?" Father Aiden did a double take."Thanks for coming' along Mrs. Morris," Reverend Ewing said, shaking Jenna's hand. "I know you probably think this whole thing is crazy.""Not at all! And call me Jenna. I'm a true believer. If my husband says that you and he saw John Wesley, then I know it's true. But why does John want to see me of all people?""Your hubby mentioned that your grandma is a Methodist?""Uh yeah. Bit of a tenuous link. Like Sir Henry Barrington-Smythe's horse.""Huh?""Oh, never mind. Figure of speech.""You Brits and your little quirks!" Reverend Ewing laughed. "I'm still getting used to 'em!""You said John usually appears in the vestry?""Uh-huh. Can be anywhere in the church, but he seems to like the vestry best.""Right, well go and wait in there and say a few prayers, and see if he appears. I'm not sure I can do anything, but I'll try my best."Jenna entered the vestry. Everything looked perfectly normal in there. She closed the door and looked around."It always comes back to the vestry," she smiled to herself as she recalled when she first got to know Reverend Morris.Suddenly, the row of gowns on the rail began to swing on their hangers. The temperature dropped, and Jenna rubbed her arms."Are you there, John?" She called out."Yes."She spun round. There was no sign of the spirit. "Hey, come on, show yourself at least. It's no fun talking to the invisible man.""My sincere apologies," John replied, and slowly faded into view. For the first time, Jenna was taken aback. "My God, you really are John Wesley, "He nodded and bowed. "Bless ye, for am so honored you hath come here. If I may be so bold to say, you be a lady of great beauty my dear.""Very kind of you to say, Mr. Wesley." Jenna said. "Why are you back in the land of the living? Aren't you happy in Heaven?""Ah yes," he began. "Happier than mortals can ever imagine. But you see, I feel compelled to return to this realm every All Hallow's Eve. I like to re-visit the places where I worshipped back when I was alive. And it was in this very place where this church now stands that I preached to crowds back in the autumn of 1778.""You've got a lot of places to visit in just one night," Jenna said. "I read all about you. You travelled all over England spreading the Word of the Lord. Plus you went to America, the colonies, when you were younger.""Indeed I did, yes. To my regret, I lingered a little too long here, for I found myself unable to return to the afterlife. The sun had started to rise, heralding All Saint's Day. Thus, I am trapped here in this church until next All Hallow's Eve. Only a tremendous release of positive energy could allow me to return before then.""Oh dear. May I ask why out of all the people in the world, you wanted to see me? What can I do? My gran is a Methodist. Is that the reason?""No Miss Jenna. It was your aura that attracted me. It's very strong. I believe God himself must've embodied you with some sort of innate goodness that allows you to help people.""You're making me sound like some kind of saint! I assure you I'm just a regular human being. I'm not particularly gifted in anything, although I do try to be a good person, "John had a rather dreamy expression on his face. "You remind me so much of Grace Murray, a lady I loved and lost, only you be far prettier than her."It was then that Jenna had an idea. A huge grin spread across her face. She'd read all about John Wesley's life and how unlucky he'd been in love. "A tremendous release of positive energy, you say? I think I know something which may cause that!"John put his hands together. "You do? Pray, do tell, my dear.""You need to experience an orgasm. What could be more positive than that?"He blinked. "I beg your pardon?""Oh you know, " She tried to think of a period-appropriate phrase so he'd understand. "The end act of carnal relations?"He blushed. "Oh. Miss Jenna I be a man of God. I don't see how, "Jenna sank to her knees. "Only one way to find out, John!" She paused. So he's a ghost. I've never pleasured a ghost before. Isn't he composed of just gas? He's quite cute, for someone who died in 1791! I wonder if,She reached out to touch him, and expected her hand to pass right through his body, but it didn't. He jolted at her touch."Don't worry John. I've done this before, many times in fact. It's a great honor to be able to do it to you. I'm sure this will help you."The moment of first contact had arrived. Jenna let one hand gently glide ever so slightly over John's thigh, encased in tight black breeches. Reaching out with the other hand, she ran it over his crotch, feeling an impressive bulge."Oh my! I feel strangely warmed yet again!" John sighed.Jenna fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, being more used to zippers. Something large and splendid lurked within. Either that or he had a Bible stuffed down there. "My God!" she gasped, as the Methodist's member was revealed. The short, slightly-built John Wesley was hung like a horse!"How on earth were you so unlucky in love?" Jenna exclaimed."Mostly the ladies deserted me long before I even reached the bedchamber," he mumbled."Well I'm not deserting you." She wrapped her lips around his cock head and swirled her tongue for a bit before plunging all the way down his shaft. He emitted a deep and low groan.Jenna slowly bobbed her head along his shaft over and over, with her hands grabbing his thighs for support. He moaned in pleasure with each and every stroke of her soft and warm mouth."Oh dear God," he whimpered. "Your mouth. It feels amazing."It was clear that poor John Wesley had never experienced a blowjob before, not in life, nor the afterlife, and Jenna instantly felt very generous to be giving him this incredible gift. His breathing was erratic, and she sensed that he had already reached a point of near-climax, and was doing everything he could to fight it off.Jenna's expert mouth slowly bobbed up and down his shaft. She then paused at the bottom and held his huge shaft completely inside her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat. She reached through his legs, grabbed his arse, and pulled him toward her in an attempt to get him even deeper into her throat."Uh!" he moaned. "I'm not going to last much longer. I fear I shall spend!"Outside the vestry, Reverend Ewing paced back and forth, wondering what the strange groaning noises were all about."The hell is going' on in there?" She said out loud.Jenna slowly slid her mouth back over his shaft and removed him from her mouth. She wore the naughtiest smile, and John could tell she was thoroughly enjoying this as much as he was. She took his cock into her mouth once more and slid her tongue back and forth along the underside of his shaft. He responded with another moan, louder and more urgent than before. She removed him once again from her mouth and looked toward him with a smile. the faint silver light surrounding John was more radiant than before."Are you ready to spend?" She asked, looking up at him from her knees. John was so overwhelmed, he couldn't speak. He simply nodded his head and grunted."Then I want you to come for me," she said. With that, she slid his wet cock back into her mouth. Once again she reached through his legs to grab his arse and pull him toward her, and she began to furiously fuck him with her mouth. He placed his hands on the back of her head and thrust himself into her mouth, over and over, filling the vestry with the wet sound of fellation.Jenna began moaning, and her muffled moans seemed to push John over the edge. With her mouth still filled with his cock, he stopped his thrusting and gave a loud groan. His body tensed and shook, and Jenna did everything she could to swallow his massive load, but it was too much. Some of his thick cum leaked from the corner of her mouth and splashed down the front of her pink top."Ah!" John sighed, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Thoroughly satisfied, he cried out in joy. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"Pleased to have completely drained him, she removed his cock from her mouth. His cum was delicious. Ghost cum tasted just as good as that from a living man.All at once, a pillar of light surrounded John."Ah! I'm free once more! You've freed me Jenna! I can't thank you enough! I can return and be at peace!" He began to rise up into the air. "I hope we shall meet again sometime! Farewell and God bless!"Jenna stood up and wiped her lips. "Godspeed, John! Oh! Just one more thing, next time you visit, can you bring your brother Charles along?"Reverend Ewing was about to knock on the vestry door, when it suddenly opened."Oh! Is everything alright?""Everything's fine. You can reopen your church. John's spirit is at peace once more.""For sure? He's really gone? But how?""I just said a prayer for him. Told him how much his teaching continues to inspire people to this day. That seemed to satisfy him and he just faded away.""Well thank you so much, Jenna," the reverend said, shaking her hand. "I'm so glad it's all over. It was really stressing me out! and I'm so happy that John is at peace in the Lord's kingdom again. Oh, what's that on your clothing?"Jenna looked down and was mortified at the huge globs of cum. "Oh dear. It's, candle wax. I didn't realize it had spilled. I must get going now, Reverend Ewing. Simon is waiting in the car and he'll be getting worried.""Of course. Thank you again, and give my regards to Simon!"When she'd gone, Reverend Ewing looked round the vestry. "Hmm, strange. There are no candles in here."The lecherous church warden meets his match.After peace was restored to Oakwood Road Methodist Church, and the spirit of John Wesley successfully liberated, Jenna and Reverend Morris turned their attentions to this weekend's Remembrance Sunday service. This was always a major event, and the people would be crammed into St. Michael's like sardines."I've finally completed this special sermon," Reverend Morris said, handing Jenna his iPad. "Have a read and tell me what you think. I included your suggestions about the importance of teaching the younger generation about those who died in wars. Also the bit about Winston Churchill being a flawed figure. Good suggestion, that. As human beings we are all flawed in some way.""It looks fantastic. Let me grab a coffee and settle down to enjoy this!""I hope it won't come across as too boring. You know I always get paranoid about my sermons. So many churchgoers dread a long sermon!""Your sermons are always fun and relevant, Simon, You're too hard on yourself."The mild-mannered vicar smiled. "Aww, thanks! Oh and I hope Norman Winstanley behaves himself this weekend. I had to have a quiet word with him during the Wednesday morning service.""The new churchwarden? What's he done wrong?""Well, as you know, he took over from dear old Albert who died last month. He'd previously been at St. John's, but sadly, that church has closed for good and is being demolished. Such a shame. It was a great church back in the day.""Very sad when a church dies. What are they building in its place?" Jenna asked."An Aldi supermarket. Anyways, about Norman. He's sixty-five and a terrible lecher, to put it plainly. Some say he's Sid James and Benny Hill cranked up to eleven. He didn't get nicknamed Carry On Norm for nothing."Jenna was immediately intrigued. How come I've never noticed this guy before? She thought. "Ooh. So he likes to ogle young women does he?""Yes, but not just young! I've seen him staring at the legs of older women too. Last Sunday, I caught him perving at Mrs. Wilcox when she was doing the flower arranging. And she's about eighty! Though I admit, she does have nice legs, for someone er, so mature.""Naughty boy. At least he's not ageist." Jenna said. "He needs to get on OnlyFans."Reverend Morris couldn't help but laugh. "You always try to see the best in everyone! Well just looking is one thing, but Norman has built up a bit of a reputation for being a qualified pincher of bottoms. I won't tolerate that sort of behavior. It's completely unacceptable. I'm surprised he's avoided getting into more trouble, to be honest.""Is he married?""No, widowed. Took early retirement too. Has far too much time on his hands. And we all know that the Devil makes work for idle hands, ""So true," Jenna nodded. "He makes bottoms for idle hands to pinch. "I don't think I've seen Norman. What does he look like?""Well he wears glasses and he's the spitting image of Frank Carson."Jenna blinked. "Who?""Heh, I keep forgetting the age gap between us. Frank was a Northern Irish comedian. He's dead now. My dad was and still is a massive fan of him. He used to go and see him on stage at Blackpool in the 1990s." Reverend Morris looked up a picture of the comedian on his phone and showed it to her."Ok. I'll keep an eye out for Norman this Sunday!""If he tries anything with you, tell me at once!""Oh don't worry. He wouldn't dare," Jenna replied, smirking to herself, an idea already forming in her mind. Naughty Norman. I can't have a churchwarden with wandering hands threatening Simon's church. I'd better get my hands on him before he causes any more trouble!As expected, the Sunday service was very well-attended. Jenna had arrived early, as she wanted to sit in a specific place right in the front pew. She chose to sit on the left side, in front of the organ. She'd chosen this spot because it was semi-hidden, due to a convenient pillar. More importantly, Norman the churchwarden would soon be standing here, just a few feet away, ready to direct people when it was time to take communion. For Remembrance Sunday, Jenna had chosen a smart, but conservative black dress and a silk scarf featuring a poppy pattern. She was wearing two paper poppy badges, and one of them was in a very intimate place."I hope this isn't disrespectful to the war dead," she thought to herself as she crossed her legs. "But it's necessary. This is for the good of the church's reputation. Very helpful that these self-adhesive poppy badges exist now. I just hope it doesn't drop off, "Before long, Norman Winstanley appeared and Jenna recognized him at once. Her husband's Frank Carson description had been spot on. The guy looked just like him. A full head of white hair, glasses and bushy eyebrows. A stocky build, with a beer gut. Norman looked very smart. He was wearing a dark grey suit with white shirt and maroon tie. He had big hairy hands. Jenna wondered if other parts of his body were hairy."Ah, that's him. Mr. Wandering Hands Winstanley," she said to herself. She should've been repulsed by this randy old boomer, like most women her age would be, but as usual, she found herself lusting after him and getting wet."I wonder if he wears y-fronts like Gordon? He looks the type." Of all the different types of underwear she'd seen men of this church wearing, y-fronts and boxer shorts were her favorite.Norman stood in his usual place, ready to direct the lost sheep, as he termed the congregation, to the pews, and then out again, when called for communion. St. Michael's had an efficient system whereby the congregation, one pew at a time, went up for communion, walked in a circle round the church and back to their seat. This system had been introduced during the pandemic, but had proved so successful, it had been kept on.Suddenly, the strains of the organ interrupted the quietness of the church, as Gordon began playing the opening hymn, O God Our Help in Ages Past.Everyone dutifully stood up, and it was then that Jenna caught Norman's eye. She noticed him staring and winked at him. He winked back at her. Immediately, she knew she had his full, undivided attention.Who's that tasty little filly? Norman thought. I haven't seen her before. Mind you, I've only been helping out here a week. Not many young lasses in this church. She's a pretty one. Mmm, I'd like to goose her!Look at him, undressing me with his eyes, Jenna smirked. Oh he's horny all right. I think he needs a lot more than a butt cheek to pinch. I bet his balls are as blue as a Smurf's arse.The hymn finished, and everyone sat down, as Reverend Morris began the usual start of the morning Eucharist."A very blessed welcome to all who have joined us today, for this, our special Remembrance Sunday service. We are gathered here today to reflect on those who gave their lives in the service of this country. At the same time, we reflect on those who are currently enduring the horrors of war. The people of Ukraine, Syria and Afghanistan. Let us pray, "Jenna bowed her head. At the same time, she crossed her legs and slid her dress up, exposing some creamy white thigh. Norman's eyes almost popped out of his head. She was sure she heard him utter a noise, rather like the whinny of a horse. At the same time, Gordon peered over the top of the organ, waiting for his cue to start playing the Gloria in Excelsis. His elevated position afforded him a perfect view of Jenna, when he spotted her sitting right at the front. He assumed she'd chosen to sit there for his benefit."Venus herself," he muttered, gazing at her flawless legs and remembering the last time they'd been wrapped round his body at the vicarage social. He felt his cock starting to throb. "God she makes me feel glad that I was born a man!"A cough brought him to his senses. Josh the curate was desperately trying to attract his attention as discreetly as possible."Oh, sorry!" Gordon whispered, fumbling with his music sheets. He started playing the Gloria.Jenna was getting excited just thinking about flashing her white panties. Her nipples were already erect and hard and she could feel that familiar warm, moist sensation between her legs. Slowly, she slid her dress up higher and uncrossed her legs, doing so in such a way that it was impossible to avoid a panty flash. She looked at Norman and raised an eyebrow. He let out an audible gasp and his face flushed a shade of red that looked as if his blood pressure had reached stroke-inducing levels. Fumbling in his pocket, he grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his face. Jenna noticed how his forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat.No-Nut November might be a thing, but not in my world, Jenna thought. At this rate, poor Norman will have collapsed before I even get to unzip him. He was looking at her again and she noticed his bulge in his trousers that he tried covering with crossed hands. Communion was rapidly approaching, and in the middle of the offertory hymn, Norman suddenly rushed off to the gents. When he returned a few minutes later, Jenna noticed his flies were unzipped. She wondered whether he'd done this deliberately or forgotten to zip up after having a pee or a wank."So you want to play do you?" Jenna whispered and winked at him.Norman was holding an order of service booklet, and deliberately dropped it. As he squatted down to pick it up, the gap in his unzipped trousers widened, allowing Jenna a glimpse of his underwear. She was thrilled to have a peek at his pale blue y-fronts and the bulge contained within."Very nice!" She mouthed to him and blew a discreet kiss.It was time to take communion, and being sat at the front, Jenna had to go first. Calmly, she rose from the pew and walked past the organ. As she did, the poppy pinned to her dress fell out."Oh dear, she said, and bent down to pick it up. As she did, she ensured her dress rose up, revealing a flash of her panties. However it was Gordon who got the full eyeful. He leant over for a better look, and clumsily knocked a load of music books off the shelf at the side of the organ."Damn and blast it," he muttered, scrambling to pick them up.Jenna took communion and walked round the church and down the side aisle. As she approached her pew, Norman "helpfully" held out his hand to direct her, and she took the opportunity to squeeze past him. As she did, she felt a hand cup her right buttock and give a little pinch."You're a dirty old man, Mr. Winstanley," she said. "Luckily for you, I happen to be a dirty young woman." Quick as a whip, she slid her hand to his crotch and groped his bulge through his unzipped trousers."Ah, oh!" Norman jolted in surprise. Jenna sat down and smiled at him."I want to see more. Do you?"His nostrils flared, and he quickly backed off, squirming with arousal and bewilderment. Jenna wondered if she'd scared him off, but as the organ music resumed and communion ended, she saw him grab the order of service booklet again and hold it sideways against his crotch. Wondering where this would lead, she was ready to play. It was much more fun than her doing all the flashing. She raised her leg and slid a finger across her panties, pulling the material to the side, giving him a peek at her pubic hair.Norman felt like he was going to cum in his underpants, if this continued. His face was red and his breathing was shallow. He wondered just how much longer he could hold on, but hold on he did. This cheeky little filly was unlike any other woman he'd ever encountered. A wiser, less lecherous man would've backed off long ago, in this age of Me Too, mindful that he could be being led into a trap. But Norman was a shameless, seasoned groper and letch, and he wasn't going to back down now. Using the booklet to shield his crotch from other members of the congregation, a swift movement of his left hand freed his cock, and the top of it poked out from his blue underpants.Not looking down at himself, not acknowledging that his erect dick was visible, the churchwarden acted as if everything was normal. Jenna couldn't stop staring at his cock. It was more ram rod than sham rod. She licked her lips and made a gesture to him with a clenched fist moving up and down.What a delicious-looking cock he has! She was practically drooling like a dog in heat, in the same way he was drooling at the sight of her pubic bush. And speaking of which, she hiked up her dress and revealed the front of her panties. Attached to them was another paper poppy.Norman's jaw dropped.At the same time, Gordon craned his neck to peer over the top of the organ again and got a grandstand view of Jenna's poppy."Holy shit!" He spluttered. He quickly sat down on the stool, but not before knocking his books over a second time.Further along the front pew, sat four old ladies all in their nineties, notorious gossips of the church."I say Margaret, I think the organist is drunk. He's not quite himself. He was dreadfully out of time when he played the Gloria!""Well really. It's disgraceful. On Remembrance Sunday of all days. Oh my good gracious, Mavis! Look at that! The churchwarden's flies are undone!"Immediately, the four of them leant forward in unison to get a better look."Heaven's above, you can see his, concern! How shocking! Somebody should tell him!""Maud, it's times like this that I really envy the youth. They have those fancy telephones that take instant photos.""The last time I saw a man in such a state was in 1943, and I'd just turned eighteen. Those American G I blokes, such good times!"Jenna couldn't wait any longer. The service wouldn't end for another ten minutes. Removing the poppy from her panties, she adjusted her dress and rose from the pew. "Join me in the gents," she whispered, and pressed the poppy into Norman's hand. "Lest we forget!"Norman just nodded, stunned. He glanced down at the poppy. My God, what a precious object. He would treasure it forever. Carefully placing it in his shirt pocket, he zipped up his trousers and discreetly made his way to the toilets at the front of the church.The gents toilets were empty, and Jenna made her way past the row of urinals and into the end cubicle. Moments later, she heard the door open and Norman entered. He nervously glanced round."Pist, in here!" Jenna said, ushering him inside. She locked the cubicle door and closed the toilet lid."Who are you?" Norman spluttered. "You're a cunning little vixen! I want to take handfuls of you, you're amazing! You've got me well and truly foxed!""My name is Jenna," she replied. "And you're Norman, yes? Our new churchwarden?"He nodded."If you don't mind," she said looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, "I'd love to suck that hard cock of yours."Norman looked like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once. "Oh Jenna, I'd love for you to suck me," he sighed. "I'd love to cum in your mouth. I'd love to watch you swallow all of my thick cum!"Jenna sat down on the toilet and unzipped his trousers, then unbuckled his belt. Wanting full, unobstructed access to the churchwarden's member, she pulled his trousers and y-fronts down to his ankles. Norman said nothing, he simply stood there, watching her work her magic. He never once wondered why such a young and attractive woman would want to suck his cock so willingly. It had been years, decades even, since a woman had wanted to pleasure him! He was actually getting a blowjob from a stunning redhead, for free!""What a lovely cock you've got, Norman. I could see how big it was when you gave me that cheeky little glimpse of it in the church service earlier!" She wasn't lying. He did indeed have a nice plump shaft, with big balls, and wiry white pubes."Some men are like fine wine, they get better with age!"Without hesitation, she impaled her mouth on his shaft. Taking him deep while stroking him, licking him, and sucking him. Norman put his hand on the back of Jenna's head.Jenna cupped his balls, feeling them throb and pulsate, she knew precisely when he was about to cum. At the same time, she ran her other hand up under his shirt, feeling his hairy paunch."That tickles!" Norman murmured, sighing and groaning.Back in the church, the service had nearly ended, much to Gordon's relief. He really needed a pee. Thanks to Jenna, he needed a wank too, but there wasn't time. Whilst the vicar was reading out a lot of notices, he had just enough time to pop to the gents, relieve himself and head back to the organ to play the recessional hymn."Mmm," Jenna murmured, her mouth full of cock. Suddenly, Norman heard someone else enter the toilets."Jenna, someone's come in!" He whispered."Mmm," was all she could reply, and continued sucking him.Gordon hurried to a urinal and unzipped his trousers. As he began to pee, a loud groan came from the end cubicle. He ignored it and continued relieving himself. The mystery bloke in the cubicle made several loud grunts. Gordon glanced round. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "That poor sod's got a bad case of constipation."He finished, zipped up, washed his hands and hurried out of the toilets, wondering who the unfortunate man was."Oh, Oh fuck!" Norman groaned, as his climax neared. "Jenna! I'm going to give you a lovely, big creamy surprise!""Give it to me, Norman!" She felt his cock quiver and his balls tightened in her hand and she got her first taste of his cum. Jet after jet of his thick seed squirted from his cock into Jenna's eager mouth. He took out his cock to allow her to swallow his load and, as she was doing so, he stroked it and managed to squirt a few more sticky blasts all over her face."Ah," Norman panted. "That was wonderful Jenna, I enjoyed that more than anything. I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me! Did you like all my cum in that sweet mouth of yours?""Oh I loved that! Your cum tastes so good, Norman!" Jenna lowered her head and planted a kiss on his cock and then on his sweaty, hairy balls. Doing a dreadful attempt at a Northern Irish accent, she added, "It's the way you tell 'em!""Eh?" Norman said."My poor attempt at a Frank Carson impression," she replied. "My husband said you resemble him.""You, you're married?""Yes," Jenna said, standing up. "I'm the vicar's wife."A look of horror appeared on Norman's face. "Oh my God, ""Don't look so worried, Norman." She put her finger to his lips. "Our little secret, yes? Of course, you need to behave yourself from now on. A little birdy told me that you are quite liberal with those wandering hands of yours. No more bum pinching and goosing of any other ladies whilst you're in St. Michael's, is that understood?"He nodded, panic in his eyes."Say it out loud, in God's name. Because God knows everything.""In the name of God, I promise I'll keep my hands to myself," Norman said."That's my Norm," she replied, planting a kiss on his lips. "We'd better get out of here. Other chaps will be coming in. You go first.""R-right. Okay." Norman zipped up his trousers, fastened his belt, composed himself and hurried out of the cubicle. He opened the door and glanced round."There's no-one here. Quick, you dash into the ladies."Jenna ran past him. As she did, she pinched his arse. "Until next time then," she giggled.Norman breathed a sigh of relief and opened the main door that led back into the church. The service had ended and people were starting to file out of the pews. Norman wiped his forehead. His mind was spinning. Not looking where he was going, he almost walked into Gordon, who'd seen him leaving the toilets."Sorry," he muttered."No worries," Gordon replied. "Listen, there's a first aid kit and other medicine in the vestry. I can get you some Dulcolax tablets."Norman looked confused. "What?""No need to be embarrassed. All us older blokes get constipated from time to time. I couldn't help but overhear you in the gents earlier, and you seemed to be in bloody agony with your bowels!"To be continued.By Blacksheep, for Literotica.

Join Fr. Hollowell for Day 1 of the Our Lady of Lourdes Novena as we seek the intercession of the Blessed Mother for healing, strength, and deeper faith. Let us pray together in preparation for her feast day, trusting in her motherly care and the power of prayer. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Our Lady of Lourdes, we come to you like little Bernadette at the grotto. We pray with childlike trust in you. Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, when you appeared in Lourdes, you made it a holy sanctuary where many have obtained the cure of their infirmities, both spiritual and corporal. We pray with confidence for your holy intercession. (State your intentions here) Holy Mother of the Rosary, we feel confident that your prayers on our behalf will be graciously heard by God. Immaculate Mother, give us what your motherly heart sees we need at this moment. Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, we fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, our mother; to thee do we come, before thee we stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not our petitions, but in thy mercy, hear and answer us. Amen. Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us! Saint Bernadette, pray for us! Amen. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Welcome to All Saints Parish's Livestream! Thank you for joining us in prayer today. We are grateful to have you as part of our parish family.

A sequel to "Jenna Goes to Church"A Series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  More fun with the ever-horny Jenna and the good chaps of St. Michael's church and beyond!At the Vicarage Social, Jenna meets an ordained Catholic Priest.A full year had passed since Jenna Fox had started attending St Michael's church. During that time, she'd carried out God's work and in the true Christian spirit, brought much happiness to several male members of the church, thus helping them to become better Christians. In her new role as a vicar's wife, she finds there are still many other men of the church in need of guidance,Reverend Simon Morris and his wife Jenna were holding their annual November social at the vicarage. November always seemed such a depressing month, when, after the initial excitement of Guy Fawkes Night, nothing much happened. Christmas was still a little too far away, although the shops had been selling festive stuff since September. It got earlier every year.The usual members of St. Michaels church were in attendance, Gordon Leesmith the church organist and choirmaster, Josh the curate, Bishop George, Yulia et al, plus a few new faces from other churches that Jenna hadn't seen before.Jenna was wearing a low-cut, black velvet dress and a diamond encrusted cross necklace. A couple of times, she caught a tall, serious-looking man in the corner of the room staring at her. He quickly averted his eyes when she looked at him."Wonder who he is?" The chap was clad in black and wearing a clerical collar, so evidently a vicar or priest of some kind. She knew most of the clergy at the local churches, but had never seen this guy before.Gordon was circulating, and on the hunt for a toilet. Beer always went straight to his bladder."Great atmosphere Jenna," he said, winking at her. "You look lovely by the way.""Why thank you," she winked back. "You look rather fine yourself. That navy blue suit, Umm. We need more men in suits. Down with casual dress I say!" The organist still turned her on, despite her offloading him onto Yulia's willing friend Martika. "A shame Martika couldn't attend tonight.""Yes, she's been struck down with flu. Been in bed all week.""Aww." They looked at each other. Gordon's face bore an expression that was pretty much screaming, "I am unbearably horny and really need a fuck right now, I know you're the vicar's wife now but I still fancy you like crazy and miss your lips on my cock, ""Er is there a downstairs loo here?" He said. "There's a queue for the upstairs one and I'm bursting for a pee.""Afraid not. Hard to believe in a house this size I know. There's always the back garden. Plenty of bushes and it's dark." Jenna replied, and tossing him a crumb of hope, added. "I might join you out there later."Gordon's face lit up. "Okay. Thanks!"Jenna scanned the living room. Presently, her husband appeared. "Nice to see so many guests. I didn't think so many would turn up!""I know, It's great!" Jenna couldn't help but notice that there were way more male guests than female ones. "I wonder why that is?" She grinned to herself. "By the way, who's that guy in the corner over there? He looks like he's at a funeral rather than a vicarage social. His face could turn milk sour."Reverend Morris looked. "Oh. That's Father Aiden. He's a Catholic priest. Only been in this neck of the woods for a few weeks. He's taken over at St Gregory's. Prior to that he was based in Liverpool. Huge Irish community there of course, and I believe he was born in Dublin.""Can't get more stereotypically Irish, can he?" The name, the look: Father Aiden had black hair, pale blue eyes and a bone-white complexion. His hairstyle struck Jenna as being somewhat old-fashioned, with sideburns."He'd be good at playing a vampire. Why's he looking so miserable? Is it because he's in a Church of England vicarage?"Reverend Morris laughed. "Ha! No, my love. All denominations are welcome at this vicarage, we've got the Oakwood Road Methodist guys here too and the Living Earth Free Church. From what I've heard, Father Aiden is just a very serious man. It's just how he is. He's probably enjoying himself, even though he looks miserable.""If he's a Catholic priest does that mean, ""Oh yes. Vow of celibacy.""That's the real reason he's miserable then!" Jenna replied."Indeed. Whilst I respect his vows, personally it's something I could never adhere to!""Nope. You like pussy too much, Rev.""Jenna, shush! You're making me blush!""I'm right though.""You know I can never get enough of your pussy," the vicar whispered in her ear. "I must go and mingle, before I get another hard-on."Jenna sensed the moment was right to get to know the mysterious Father Aiden a bit better. The priest was currently being bored to death by an elderly woman from St. Michael's who was lamenting the state of modern Britain.", And like I keep saying, this country went to the dogs long ago. Useless, lying politicians, rising crime, rising cost of living. Unbridled filth peddled on every street corner. I imagine, Father, coming from a big city like Liverpool, this small town must seem like paradise to you. Don't be fooled! County lines are a big problem! And the local park. Would you believe it? It's become a dogging hotspot, "Father Aiden said nothing and just nodded patiently at her. Sensing he needed rescuing, Jenna cut in."Sorry Mrs. Grimes, can I just interrupt and borrow Father Aiden for a minute? I need to discuss something.""Oh be my guest," the pensioner replied. "He's not got a lot to say.""Probably because he couldn't get a word in," Jenna muttered under her breath as Mrs. Grimes shuffled off. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jenna, Reverend Morris' wife. Nice to meet you, Father Aiden." She held out her hand, and he reluctantly shook it."Hello." The priest spoke at last, in a thick Irish accent, his dour expression unchanging."You look rather trapped. Too many people here for your liking?""A little." Father Aiden replied. He looked extremely uncomfortable in Jenna's presence. "I'm still, finding my feet around this area.""I'm sure you'll settle in just fine, Father. Have you tried any of the buffet? My husband's a great cook; he's made some great cakes and, ""Maybe later. I, I would appreciate a cup of tea if possible.""Oh no problem. Why don't you take a seat in the snug? You'll find it more relaxing in there. Less chatter.""Thanks." He skulked off. Jenna took a deep breath. "Blimey, what a cold fish. I'd get better conversation out of a statue. Still, early days. With a little bit of help, he's bound to open up sooner or later." Far from putting her off, Father Aiden's stern exterior only served to fascinate Jenna further. And the fact he was a celibate priest, .hmm. That couldn't possibly be good for him, could it?Moments later, she brought him a cup of tea. "Here you go," she said, putting it on the side table by his chair and taking a seat opposite him."Thanks, Mrs. Morris.""Jenna, please."He twitched. "Jenna.""I've never met a Catholic priest before," Jenna said, and Father Aiden straightened in the chair and braced himself for the usual questions he was always asked, usually concerning vows of celibacy. He swallowed as he noticed how close Jenna was to him.Damn. She looks so much like Róisín, but even prettier. I can't believe this."Well, we're not that rare," he mumbled, sipping his tea."I know very little about the Catholic church," Jenna continued. Nobody in my family is Catholic. Mostly Church of England, and a few Methodists, ""I'm sure your husband can help you with any questions you might have," Father Aiden said, and Jenna wondered if this was his polite way of saying "please leave me in peace."Pretending to be upset, Jenna stood up. "I, I'm sure you're right, Father. I'm sorry for bothering you." She hurried out of the snug.Alone at last, Father Aiden smacked his forehead. "Why does this keep happening to me? Why do I always end up saying the wrong thing?""Definitely a lot of issues with that one," Jenna smirked to herself. A couple of chips on both shoulders methinks. I'm not giving up on the good Father though. Maybe in time, he'll soften a little."Gordon had successfully relieved himself on the rose bushes in the vicarage's back garden. "Ah, that's better. I'm sure those plants needed a good watering," he muttered, zipping up his trousers. Hearing the back door opening, he spun round."Hi there," Jenna smiled. "It's a bit cold out here, Gordon. You'll be getting a chill in your organ pipe.""Umm. I was hoping you might be able to warm it up."Jenna glanced round and took him by the hand. "In that case, come with me, "In the garage, Gordon's face flushed red with lust as Jenna leaned against a car, hiked up her dress and slipped her hand inside her drenched black panties. Her aroused smell met his nose and made his stiff cock throb more than ever. Already his pre-cum was leaking out. The fact that she was now the vicar's wife, was turning him on even more."Oh God, Jenna. You always know what buttons to press," Gordon groaned, as she ran her hand down his crotch, cupping his bulge."Don't you mean which stops to pull out?" She teased, unzipping his trousers. "Your cock is like the Wurlitzer organ in Blackpool Tower. It's always rising.""Ha-ha. That's why it needs you to play it," he chuckled. Jenna ran her hand down the front of his y-fronts. "Ooh, I'm not the only one here who's got damp undies!"Gordon groaned again. Jenna pulled out his cock and squeezed his balls. As she groped his manhood, she realized just how wet with pre-cum it was."Nice and sticky, just how I like it." She knelt down and teasingly licked the head of his cock before putting it in her mouth."Umm yes!" Gordon hissed as the vicar's wife began giving him a good blow. He'd remembered just how brilliantly Jenna was at giving blowjobs. Back during that day in church, she'd given him some superb head.Jenna withdrew and reclined on the bonnet of the car. She rubbed her neatly-trimmed bush of pubic hair and Gordon knew what she wanted him to do. With just one finger at first, the organist began tracing circles around the outside of her wet pussy. Jenna moaned, enjoying the attention, but wanting more. Sensing this, Gordon spread her pussy lips with his finger and pushed inside her, spreading her walls and began to fuck her with it. Then he lowered his head. Very slowly at first, teasing her into a state of desperate pleasure, he tongued her, savoring her juices."Oh Gordon!" Jenna screamed. She began moving her body in time to his motions, trying to get his tongue to go even deeper. Then without warning, Gordon stopped his treatment, as he felt her hand brush against the head of his prick. "Slide your organ pipe in," she purred, knowing he got such a kick from these corny phrases."With pleasure!"Positioning the tip of his dick right up against her wet opening, he slid inside her and was soon thrusting with vigor."Umm, more Gordon! Yes!"He continued pumping her hard and fast, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming his dick all the way back in. He grabbed her hips to steady himself, still fucking her rapidly. Then their coupled bodies convulsed ferociously, and Gordon's pulsating member filled Jenna's snatch with his cum."Here endeth the organ lesson," Jenna said, planting a kiss on his lips.Gordon kissed her back. "Oh thanks Jenna. I enjoyed that immensely.""And you really needed that!" She replied, adjusting her clothing. "It's not good for an organist to have so much cum building up like that, there might be a risk of a ruptured bellows."Gordon zipped up his trousers. "Far worse than trapped wind!"They both laughed. "We'd better get back to the party. I'll go first, okay?"Jenna headed out of the garage. As she walked round the side of the house, she almost walked straight into Father Aiden."Oh!" He recoiled in shock. "Mrs, er, Jenna.""Father Aiden! You made me jump! Don't tell me you're looking for a downstairs toilet too?"He blinked. "Um no. I was, er, I wanted to apologies for earlier. I was very rude. Whatever must you think of me? You being the vicar's wife and all.""I'd say you're a chap who's just finding his way in a new place," Jenna smiled. Even in the dark, his watery blue eyes seemed to be staring right into her soul. "Anyways, apology accepted!" Before he could say another word, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Would you like another cup of tea, Father?"Father Aiden clutched his chest as though he'd glimpsed Satan himself. A look of horror on his face."What's the matter?" Jenna said, glancing back at him. "My tea isn't that bad is it?"The Priest is caught masturbating"Holy Spirit, come into my heart and show me my sins. Give me a proper spirit of repentance and the grace to make a good confession. Give me your peace that I might not be anxious but rather trust in your abundant mercies."Father Aiden said a prayer to himself. He was anxiously sitting in his confessional, awaiting the arrival of any lost sheep who were in need of his guidance. Here of all places, he needed to be focused on his job as a priest, yet his mind was on other things. Last night, he'd attended a gathering at St. Michael's vicarage. He hadn't really wanted to go, as social events made him uncomfortable, but had gone along to show willing. It had been his first social since he'd left Liverpool.It had all been going well until he'd met the vicar's wife, Jenna. The woman had shocked him to the core. She reminded him so much of Róisín, a twentysomething woman whom he'd developed feelings for back in Liverpool. He'd come perilously close to breaking his celibacy vows with her, they'd kissed passionately a couple of times in the confessional booth, until Father Aiden's nerves and guilt finally got the better of him and he'd pushed her away. Feeling it best to move on before things developed into something more serious, he quit his post and requested to be moved elsewhere. He'd narrowly avoided a scandal.Father Aiden was thirty-five, and had been a priest for eight years now. He recalled his early years, growing up in a small village near Dublin. As rigidly as he'd stuck to his celibacy vows since joining the priesthood, Father Aiden was no virgin. As an eighteen year old, he'd been an altar boy at his local church, and lost his virginity to Sara, a much older married woman who was a member of the congregation. They'd enjoyed passionate romps in the confessional booths, in the vestry, just about everywhere. Sara had a very high sex drive and didn't get any from her dull husband. Then a nightmare situation. Sara had fallen pregnant. Aiden's world had been rocked.In their strict Catholic community, even the thought of getting an abortion was out of the question. Aiden had resigned himself to becoming a young dad, but then just as he was starting to like the idea, fate intervened and Sara suffered a miscarriage. He didn't think it would have affected him so badly, but it did, and he blamed himself. It had been a punishment from God. From that day on, Father Aiden made up his mind to become a priest, much to the delight of his parents.However, much as he tried to bury any sinful urges, Father Aiden struggled. After Róisín, he hoped he wouldn't be attracted to another woman, but now he'd seen Jenna Morris, and been immediately smitten."Dear God, help me not to be so weak in body and mind. I must cast out these sinful thoughts."He was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the confessional."Bless me Father, for I have sinned." A middle-aged man said. "It's been a week since my last confession."Father Aiden composed himself and did his duty as a priest.Jenna grinned as an Amazon delivery van pulled up outside the vicarage."Oh good. It's arrived. That was quick."Reverend Morris was coming down the stairs as she was eagerly opening a parcel."What do you think?" Jenna said, holding up a nun costume."Ooh sexy. That'll turn heads at the church hall's fancy dress party next month! How very naughty and sinful. Better hope that Father Aiden doesn't turn up to that, eh? Might prove a bit too much for him! Talking of which, would you mind calling at St. Gregory's and dropping off that book he wanted to borrow?""No problem," Jenna replied. She picked up the paperback. "The Seeker by S G Maclean. Oh, he's into historical fiction is he? Well good to know he has other interests."Reverend Morris started laughing. "Heh, I don't know how I coped when the curate made that joke to him at the social. I know Josh had had way too much to drink but, dear God, I could've died when he started going on about Catholic priests lusting after choirboys.""What? I must've missed that! It must've been when I was f, er, talking to Gordon.""Yes. Father Aiden didn't see the funny side at all. I don't think Josh will even remember what he said to him. Anyways, I had to apologies!"Jenna couldn't help but snigger. "By the way, who are you going to dress up as for the party?""Haven't decided yet. You once said I looked like Prince Edward, perhaps I should dress as up in Royal robes and get a crown? Anyways, I must get going. I've got a meeting with Bishop George. What a busy week. Christopher's coming round tomorrow.""It's be lovely to see him. If the weather's nice, we can have a day out somewhere. I know how much he loves dinosaurs, why don't we take him to the museum?""Sounds great! Okay, I'll be back around four. Take care my love. Do give Father Aiden my best wishes." The vicar embraced her and they shared a lingering kiss, before he reluctantly tore himself away.Alone in the house, Jenna turned to the nun costume. Just how would Father Aiden react? "That would be a risk worth taking," she said out loud.Father Aiden had retired to his study. Saturdays were always quiet, and he relished this calm period. Reclining in a chair, he closed his eyes,Slowly, he unbuttoned his cassock. Before long he'd unzipped his trousers too. He was alone in the privacy of his study. His dick was now standing fully at attention. With mental images of Jenna Morris filling his head, Father Aiden took it in his hand and stroked it. He started talking out loud, as though reading out an erotic story where Jenna was pleasuring him."She settles to her knees between my thighs, opens my cassock and reaches up to open my trousers."He stopped and moaned."My willing lamb Jenna starts by licking the tip, tasting my precum. It is like silk. She then takes the head into her mouth and sucks it, darting her tongue into the slit. By now, I am rock hard, but still silent. She then takes my entire shaft into her mouth and keeps it there, running her tongue along the bottom. My cock shivers in her mouth; my only reaction. For what she is about to receive, I know she is truly thankful."Father Aiden was furiously pumping his cock up and down. "I gently place my hand on her head, and utter another prayer. My eyes are closed. I am about to come. I can't explain how glorious a moment this is. My lamb is so skilled, and now her sins shall be absolved."He was panting as he felt his orgasm building.Jenna parked the car in the street opposite St. Gregory's. The church was a grand old building, double the size of St. Michael's. The plaque on the railings described the church in eloquent fashion: ", an edifice in the Early English style, consisting of a basidial chancel, nave, transepts, north porch, lady chapel, and an embattled western tower, added in 1894 and containing 8 bells.""Never been in this church before. Oh well, first time for everything." with her usual bold as brass demeanor, she entered the church. "Wow, this is pretty ornate," she remarked. The place appeared deserted. No churchwardens or other staff anywhere. There was no sign of the priest. Jenna walked around the church, nosey-parkering here and there. She waited for a while, wondering if someone might come out of the confessional, but evidently that was empty too. Then she heard a muffled voice coming from a door at the back of the church."She knows I am ready and expects me to moan or yell, but all I do is tense slightly, for there are still other members of the congregation in the church. Then she feels my load in her mouth. She swallows everything, letting the last bit rest on her tongue so she can savor it." Father Aiden continued muttering to himself, in between moans.Jenna put her ear to the door. It was Father Aiden's voice alright, and he sounded like he was talking to someone on the phone. Then a load groan made her take a step back.."What the hell is he doing in there?" She wondered. She was about to knock, but what he said next made her gasp."She continues to suck my cock, a soft and gentle motion, caressing me with her lips and tongue, the feeling of this is indescribable. When she removes her mouth, she kisses the tip of my cock, and I moan, oh dear God, yes, yes!"Jenna squinted and peered through the keyhole. Her eye widened as she witnessed the priest reclined in a chair, masturbating furiously. He had that same miserable expression on his face, but his pale complexion was tinged with a blush, and he was grunting, seconds later he climaxed, shooting his seed into his free hand."Oh wow!" Jenna couldn't believe what she was seeing. "No wonder he was so miserable. Just look how horny the poor man is!" She licked her lips. The priest had an attractive uncut cock and to say it was large was an understatement. Though tempted to walk in and suck it right there, Jenna decided against it. "No. Not yet. I must wait for the right moment. And then I'll finally put a smile on this face."As he recovered from his orgasm, Father Aiden finished with a prayer."God, I thank you for your abundant mercies. No sin of mine is beyond your power to forgive, and your forgiveness has restored my soul to friendship with you. Thank you for never ceasing to love me even when my actions show that I do not love you fully. Thank you for seeking me out as the shepherd seeks the lost sheep."A dull thud outside the door brought him to his senses. Quickly, he wiped the cum of his hand with a tissue and zipped up his trousers. Cautiously opening the door, he looked around. The church was deserted, but there was a vague scent of a familiar perfume in the air, where had he smelt that before? He glanced down. And saw the book. He bent down to pick it up."Holy Mother of God, "Jenna had been here!Beauty and the PriestFriday night presented a perfect opportunity. Jenna's heart was pounding as she made her way to the clergy house where Father Aiden resided. The nun costume was proving to be quite itchy and uncomfortable, seeing as she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. To be expected of cheap Chinese tat purchased on Amazon. Still, the costume would serve its purpose, she hoped.Father Aiden reclined in an armchair as he read a chapter of the book that had been left in the church. Normally, he would be immediately engrossed in the story, but his mind was elsewhere."Did she hear what I was saying? She must've heard something."The thought that the vicar's wife might have overheard what he'd been saying was mortifying. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, jolting him back to reality."Who could that be at this late hour?" The priest mused as he got up. Usually the odd lost sheep called round, mostly Eileen Hattersley, a lonely old widow always in desperate need of a chat and reassurance. Then there was Bernard, a troubled fifty-something man whom Father Aiden suspected was closeted.He opened the front door. What he saw was almost sufficient to make him faint."Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.""Uh, Jenna? What, the, what are you doing here?""Well Father, I would've thought my intentions were rather obvious. Please may I come in?"His stern expression remained the same. He took a deep breath as he ushered her inside. "I know why you've come," he said at last. "You left the book the other day, didn't you? You obviously heard me, in my study.""I did," Jenna replied. "And yes, I heard."His ice-cold calmness slipped a little. "Celibacy, is hard," he murmured, staring at the floor. "I can only apologies for the disgraceful things you heard."Jenna raised her hand and touched his cheek. "But you have nothing to apologies for, Father. "Hearing you saying your erotic thoughts out loud was a huge turn-on. And a relief as well. Nice to know that priests have lustful urges like the rest of us.""Oh dear God Jenna, that's just the problem. I'm having too many of these lustful urges. I'm a poor servant of God. I can't stick to my vows. I'm sinning whilst in church, what is God to do with me?"Jenna thought for a moment. "Your opinion of God is different from mine. I was always taught that because he sent Jesus, who died for us, we do not need to fear eternal punishment for sin. You seem such an unhappy man, Father. Why not be truly honest, as God knows your thoughts anyway. Tell me, what do you truly want?"The sight of her dressed as a nun and giggling in a coquettish manner was sufficient to send blood surging to his manhood. He didn't reply, just put his hands to her face and planted a soft kiss on her lips."Oh Father!" Jenna whispered.The priest recoiled at once. "I-I'm sorry. Please forgive me.""You are forgiven. Now please kiss me again."He gazed at Jenna, moving his head in closer to kiss her on the lips. She pressed up against his body, feeling his hands on the small of her back. He broke it off. Jenna used the opportunity to gently bite the side of his ear, running over his inner ear with her tongue. He stiffened as she moved across his ear, going down until she got to the lobe.Father Aiden moaned, his breath warm on her cheek. His open mouth pressing into it. He didn't respond further. Jenna dislodged herself from his ear, causing him to look up as he moved his head."Come," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the sitting room. Jenna liked the way he was taking control like this."Yes, Father."In the middle of the room, he stood facing her."Kneel."She did as he asked. Father Aiden unbuttoned his cassock, revealing a straining bulge in his black trousers."Please, heal me," he whispered.Jenna needed no further encouragement. Putting her hands together in a prayer, she smiled up at him. "For what I am about to receive, may the Lord make me truly thankful." Slowly, she unbuckled his belt and started on his trousers. Father Aiden's huge cock sprang free the moment she unzipped them, and Jenna was surprised that he was commando under there."Are all Catholic priests as well-endowed as you?" She commented as she lowered her mouth over the end of his erection.Father Aiden simply shrugged.Jenna sucked on the head, tasting him as she ran her tongue over the sensitive opening, while pumping the shaft with her hand. She took more and more of his hardness into her mouth until she felt him hit the back of her throat. She relaxed and pushed on until she had his entire holy tool in her mouth and she was nuzzling his pubic hair. He groaned as he grabbed the back of her head and thrust into her mouth. The priest could not believe his eyes as Jenna took him into her mouth. Never would he have dreamt that his dull evening would have ended like this. And yet here this beautiful young woman was sucking on his hardened member. He groaned with pleasure at the sensations of her warm mouth on him. He was afraid to move at first, so he stood still, giving her free reign.Jenna continued to suck and was amazed to see Father Aiden's erection become even thicker and harder under her ministrations. She had never seen anyone so well-endowed, putting even her husband to shame. Her hands pumped the bottom of his shaft up and down as she continued to suck.Without saying anything, Father Aiden beckoned Jenna to stand up. He led her to the armchair and raised the nun costume, above her waist. He let out a sigh as Jenna's unclothed pussy was revealed to him. He liked the fact she was unshaved down there, unlike so many of the women he'd seen in porn videos, waxed and plucked so much that their pubic areas reminded him of supermarket chickens. Father Aiden slid down and began to slowly lick, nibble and suck her clitoris."Oh my God Father, " Jenna exclaimed.Hearing her utter his title like that, emboldened him. He licked and fingered her some more, and could feel her impending climax building, her hips rose up, she arched her back and started to yell."Oh Father; oh, yes!Father Aiden worked his tongue up inside her womanhood, swirling it around. His upper lip brushed her clit and moments later she exploded, squirting on his tongue and face. With a single finger, Father Aiden took some of the juice and marked the sign of the cross on his forehead. Still, he said nothing! After she'd recovered, he stood up and gently helped Jenna to her feet. He looked deeply into her eyes, and brought her lips to his.They kissed passionately, Jenna tasting her own juices on the priest's tongue. Finally, Father Aiden withdrew, and removed his clothes. Jenna did the same, glad to be free of the itchy nun costume."Oh," she smiled, noticing his dark chest hair. She ran a finger through it. Father Aiden took her hands in his and pulled her down to the floor. He reclined on the sheepskin rug. The warmth and light from the wood burning stove played across her body as Jenna straddled the priest and slowly lowered herself onto his erect pole. His thick head slid into her, stretching her to the limit. She paused to get adjusted to the mass of flesh inside of her, then continued to push down, filling herself.Father Aiden groaned with pleasure as he felt himself enter Jenna's tight opening. She kept moving up and down his shaft, each time lowering herself further and further until he was completely buried inside of her. The feeling of his erection deep inside her tight wet opening was incredible. He reached up and caressed her breasts as Jenna rode up and down his throbbing rod.Pressure began to build in Father Aiden's groin as Jenna continued to slide up and down his erection, slick with her juices. Her hot tunnel gripped him like a vice and seeing this beautiful redhead riding him, eyes closed, mouth open gasping with pleasure as he kneaded her breasts was too much for him. He felt the pressure continue to build, then a tightening at the base of his balls until he felt like he was about to explode.The waves of pleasure built to a peak until the continuous pummeling pushed Jenna over the edge and her body convulsed as she climaxed a second time. As she writhed in pleasure above him, Father Aiden felt himself explode as he released his load deep into her womb. His cock seemed to spasm forever as he shot spurt after spurt of cum, filling her until he was completely drained. Jenna collapsed on top of him, also completely spent.When Jenna opened her eyes, Father Aiden was staring right back at her, and he was smiling. A truly lovely smile.To be continued.By Blacksheep, for Literotica.

She was born in 347 to a noble family in Rome, and at age sixteen married Toxotius, a prominent nobleman. Though her husband was a pagan, he was devoted to her and gave her freedom to keep a Christian home and rear her children as Christians. They were blessed with five children. When she was thirty-two her husband died suddenly, and Paula resolved to turn her large house in Rome into a monastery. Later she traveled to the Holy Land with her spiritual father St Jerome (June 15). In Bethlehem she established two monasteries, one for women (where she dwelt) and one for St Jerome and his companions. Every day the nuns chanted the entire Psalter, which they were required to learn by heart. Paula was exceptionally austere in her fasting and lavish in her almsgiving, often giving away to the poor even the goods needed by her community for subsistence. She aided her spiritual father and brother Jerome in his controversies with Origen's followers: St Jerome himself was hot-tempered, and St Paula often exhorted him to confront his enemies with patience and humility.   When she was fifty-six years old, she felt her death approaching, and heard Christ say to her 'Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away; for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone' (Song of Songs 2:10-11). To this she replied 'The time of harvest has come. I shall truly see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living,' and gave up her soul joyfully. Her funeral was attended by throngs of monks, nuns and poor people, all of whom revered her as their mother and benefactress.

How many 30-year-olds still do what their mother tells them to do?  Well, maybe it depends on whether or not the mom is the “Holy Mother.” This week at Coffee to Go, hosts Karin Peter and Blake Smith take a dive into the Wedding at Cana, the story from the Gospel According to John that records Jesus' first sign or miracle.  And, it wasn't “the devil that made him do it.”  It was an act of justice strongly recommended by his mom. Listen in and find out why! Download TranscriptThanks for listening to Project Zion Podcast!Follow us on Facebook and Instagram!Intro and Outro music used with permission: “For Everyone Born,” Community of Christ Sings #285. Music © 2006 Brian Mann, admin. General Board of Global Ministries t/a GBGMusik, 458 Ponce de Leon Avenue, Atlanta, GA 30308. copyright@umcmission.org “The Trees of the Field,” Community of Christ Sings # 645, Music © 1975 Stuart Dauerman, Lillenas Publishing Company (admin. Music Services). All music for this episode was performed by Dr. Jan Kraybill, and produced by Chad Godfrey. NOTE: The series that make up the Project Zion Podcast explore the unique spiritual and theological gifts Community of Christ offers for today's world. Although Project Zion Podcast is a Ministry of Community of Christ. The views and opinions expressed in this episode are those speaking and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Community of Christ.

27 And it came to pass, as he spoke these things, a certain woman from the crowd, lifting up her voice, said to him: Blessed is the womb that bore thee, and the paps that gave thee suck.Factum est autem, cum haec diceret : extollens vocem quaedam mulier de turba dixit illi : Beatus venter qui te portavit, et ubera quae suxisti.  28 But he said: Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God, and keep it.At ille dixit : Quinimmo beati, qui audiunt verbum Dei et custodiunt illud. The Holy Mother of God is blessed among women.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent. On the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we journey with Mary and Elizabeth—two women, two miraculous pregnancies, and one shared vision of hope. What can their story teach us about collaboration, resilience, and bringing God's light into a world in disarray? Discover how the Advent promise calls us to awaken, act, and give birth to peace and justice in our everyday lives.

Friends of the Rosary, Happy New Year in Christ! Today, New Year's Day, we sanctify the day by celebrating the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, a feast day since early times. This title of “Mother of God,” Theotokos, in Greek The God-bearer, underscores her unique role in salvation history. Her “yes” to God's plan made the Incarnation possible. Today's Gospel recounts the shepherds visiting the Holy Family and Mary pondering these events in her heart. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states, "Mary, the all-holy ever-virgin Mother of God, is the masterwork of the mission of the Son and the Spirit in the fullness of time. For the first time in the plan of salvation and because his Spirit had prepared her, the Father found the dwelling place where his Son and his Spirit could dwell among men. In this sense the Church's Tradition has often read the most beautiful texts on wisdom in relation to Mary. Mary is acclaimed and represented in the liturgy as the "Seat of Wisdom."  Today, Octave Day of Christmas, is also the World Day of Peace, a reminder that Christ, the Prince of Peace, is the source of true reconciliation and harmony. Mary's maternal intercession offers us hope as we entrust the world's conflicts to her care. Let's enter 2025 by renewing our devotion to Mary, asking her to guide us closer to her Son. May we emulate her humility, trust, and faith in God's promises through prayer and reflection. Ave Maria!Jesus, I Trust In You! Come, Holy Spirit, come! To Jesus through Mary! + Mikel Amigot | RosaryNetwork.com, New York • Enjoy this video and enhance your faith in our newly released Holy Rosary University iOS app • ⁠January 1, 2025, Today's Rosary on YouTube | Daily broadcast at 7:30 pm ET

Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God

The Solemnity of Mary, The Holy Mother of God

Numbers 6:22-27 (‘They shall put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them') Galatians 4:4-7 (‘God sent forth his Son, born of a woman.')

Here is my homily from January 1, 2025, the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God. See the readings at usccb.org.

For 1 January 2025, Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, based on Numbers 6:22–27

This beautiful and ancient title given to Mary has weathered many objections over the centuries. It is a title beloved of Catholics and one we use regularly with great love. But to those outside the Catholic faith it is either misunderstood or rejected. We as Catholics should know how to defend this title, and so defend our heavenly mother, and give reasons for the faith we hold; the faith that is ancient and goes back to the apostles. If you would like to contact me to provide feedback, suggestions or to ask questions you can do this via email:frpchandler@armidale.catholic.org.auAlso if you would like to support me in this work, please send me an email and I will provide details for how you can make a donation. After a very unsatisfactory experience with Buy Me A Coffee, I would prefer to handle this directly myself. Thank you.

[SEGMENT 1-1] Leftist hubris 1 I'm holding down the fort, guarding the line, all so you can enjoy the holidays. So what only a handful of people will get to hear this message, because you are HARD CORE. Far too many people think they are bad to the bone, but when it's time for the fight, they are in the wind. YOU listening today are ready for the fight. What's he doing talking about violence over the Christmas holidays, some of the weak-kneed sissies are asking. Well, I ask them, “Do you think Democrats are resting?!” Do you think they care about the birth of baby Jesus? Holy Mother of Mary, are you crazy?! Welcome…TKJN The fact that Democrats continue cases against Trump is telling. First, they know the cases are bogus. But even after Trump gets elected in a mandate, Democrats don't stop. Partly, because they can't. Stopping means admitting they lied. And if Bill Clinton taught us anything, it's that Democrats won't quit lying until you produce “the blue dress”. How many blue dresses does Trump need to reveal to them. In what should make white supremacists happy, Jack Smith—the only white litigator targeting Trump—decided he didn't want to be the first person to die in the movie, and he rightly dropped his genned up case against Trump. But don't expect low-IQ Black prosecutors to do that same, thus Alvin Bragg, Letitia James, and Fani Willis continue their cases, a clear fight to see who can be the dumbest prosecutor in America. All their cases have fallen apart. But these clowns hold on to some delusion that a reward awaits. One thing I know for sure is that President Trump will take no prisoners in his second term. The good guy routine doesn't work with Leftists. And while no one should fear an elected official, deference should be paid to him and his supporters, and he should be allowed to do his job unencumbered…  [SEGMENT 1-2] Leftist hubris 2 - Muslim attack in Germany     Saudi Arabia issued three warnings to the German government about the perpetrator of the Magdeburg Christmas attack. Germany ignored them.    [SEGMENT 1-3] Missing in Action   AWOL in Washington: Who Needs Leaders When Nobody Notices They're Gone? Just in time for the holidays, America needs a new acronym to encapsulate the absurdities of modern governance: DOGE—Defenders of Government Evasion. If DOGE had been active six months ago, perhaps they'd have sniffed out the peculiar case of GOP Congresswoman Kay Granger. While her constituents in Texas assumed she was hard at work, it turns out Granger had been tucked away in a dementia facility for half a year. Six months of legislative MIA, and no one—not her staff, not her colleagues, not even Speaker of the House Mike Johnson—seemed to notice.  What exactly were her staff doing during this time? Besides collecting taxpayer-funded salaries, they apparently took up careers in creative writing, drafting fake updates and speeches to keep the charade alive. If we can't miss an elected representative for six months, perhaps it's time to rethink both her role and her office. And Granger isn't alone. Let's not forget the time Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin went AWOL—literally. While America danced on the edge of geopolitical chaos, with a proxy war in Ukraine and nuclear tensions with Iran, Austin quietly slipped away for what sources later described as a "routine medical procedure." That could mean anything from breast implants to a tummy tuck. You never know with Biden's military. Just like with Granger, no one noticed Austin's absence. The Pentagon hummed along without him. Again I ask, why do we need these people if they aren't missed even as we deal with global crisis supposedly in their wheelhouses? In another example, we get Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell. Introducing the latest poster child for career politicians who've overstayed their welcome. The man freezes on camera so often that Capitol Hill should invest in a de-icing machine. Yet his staff dutifully props him up, ready to swoop in whenever he stares blankly into the void. https://youtu.be/ID52HUMe8Vw?si=Rzf0lDtSnV8a_GPk Need more proof? https://youtu.be/CoTw84X5sMQ?si=S4QsnetVE5s-qVAW While McConnell blanking out is shocking, look at how staffers, sycophants, and suck-ups rally to make it look like "business as usual". McConnell recently announced he'd be “working from home." I interpret this as code for “transitioning to hospice.” What about The Big Guy? Of course, no discussion of absentee leadership would be complete without mentioning Joe Biden. Democrats practically wore his mental decline as a badge of "Stolen 2020 Election" honor. Further, they branded anyone who pointed out his glaring deficiencies as “ableist” or “conspiracy theorists.” Biden's handlers deserve an Oscar for their work. They've managed to convince a large swath of the public that the man who trips over sandbags and forgets names mid-sentence is still running the country. Meanwhile, key decisions are outsourced to shadowy advisors or simply left on autopilot. Yet for all their efforts, even the best spin doctors couldn't hide Biden's failures: record-breaking inflation, a border crisis of biblical proportions, and foreign policy blunders that have alienated allies and emboldened adversaries. The Problem of Political Lifers Granger's absence, Austin's AWOL act, McConnell's brain freezes, and Biden's zombie presidency highlight a deeper issue: America's addiction to political lifers. Take Dianne Feinstein, for example. Before her passing, Feinstein was wheeled into the Senate like an extra from a retirement home documentary, barely aware of where she was or what she was voting on. Yet she remained in office, her staff effectively running the show in her name. Why does this keep happening? Because staffers, lobbyists, and party operatives have every incentive to protect their power and paychecks. These political enablers shield their bosses from scrutiny, ensuring that the government operates more like a poorly managed corporation than a republic accountable to its citizens. A Government That Functions Without Its Leaders The absurdity of it all is that government continues to function—or at least stumble along—even when its key players are absent or incapacitated. This begs the question: do we even need them? If Austin can go AWOL, Biden can barely function, and Granger can disappear entirely without consequence, perhaps it's time to streamline the system. Elon Musk recently made waves by mandating in-office work at his companies, arguing that employees who aren't physically present are inherently less productive. Maybe it's time to apply that principle to Congress and the executive branch. Let's demand our elected officials show up, do their jobs, and be held accountable—or face termination, just like any regular employee. America Deserves Better The hypocrisy is staggering. These are the same people who preach about the importance of government while failing to fulfill their most basic responsibilities. It's time to demand better. Americans deserve leaders who are present, competent, and willing to take their jobs seriously. Anything less is just another chapter in the tragicomedy of modern politics.          [SEGMENT 1-4] Peace on Earth, Except TransitionAs part of the peaceful transition of power, Democrats want Trump to be responsible for raising the debt ceiling when he gets in office.   Just to drive home the point, look at these headlines I found:·       Trump rages after Dems successfully us Republican SpaceX trip to Appoint Biden…·       Big Deaf: Musk raises alarms by endorsing what's known as “German neo-Nazi party”·       Trump Seems Awfully Touchy About the Impression That He's Taking Orders from Elon Musk·       Don't Tell Trump, but a liberal donor network is already plotting to flip the House in 2026·       House Republican Swipe at Musk: Last Time I Checked, Elon Musk Doesn't Have a Vote…   Democrats claim with no knowledge that Trump “rages”. Then they try to tie EloBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-kevin-jackson-show--2896352/support.

Talk on Holy Mother on 24 December 2024 by Swami Sunishthananda. Bank Details for Donations: CBA A/C Name: Vedanta Centre BSB 06 3159 A/C: 1056 1620   Online class talk links: YouTube Link https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNzjwJ9X5QOY6NnOtrL45KA/   Available Listening Platforms Anchor https://anchor.fm/swami-sunishthananda Breaker https://www.breaker.audio/vedanta-melbourne-classes Podcasts https://www.google.com/podcasts?feed=aHR0cHM6Ly9hbmNob3IuZm0vcy8yZGUyMTRlMC9wb2RjYXN0L3Jzcw== Overcast https://overcast.fm/itunes1526036863/vedanta-melbourne-classes Pocket Casts https://pca.st/q0859ok9 Radio Public https://radiopublic.com/vedanta-melbourne-classes-G1PBQ4 Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/4N1MLlU3dfRvPUdz7xqY9l   For more information visit https://www.vedantamelbourne.org/  

[SEGMENT 1-1] Leftist hubris 1 I'm holding down the fort, guarding the line, all so you can enjoy the holidays. So what only a handful of people will get to hear this message, because you are HARD CORE. Far too many people think they are bad to the bone, but when it's time for the fight, they are in the wind. YOU listening today are ready for the fight. What's he doing talking about violence over the Christmas holidays, some of the weak-kneed sissies are asking. Well, I ask them, “Do you think Democrats are resting?!” Do you think they care about the birth of baby Jesus? Holy Mother of Mary, are you crazy?! Welcome…TKJN The fact that Democrats continue cases against Trump is telling. First, they know the cases are bogus. But even after Trump gets elected in a mandate, Democrats don't stop. Partly, because they can't. Stopping means admitting they lied. And if Bill Clinton taught us anything, it's that Democrats won't quit lying until you produce “the blue dress”. How many blue dresses does Trump need to reveal to them. In what should make white supremacists happy, Jack Smith—the only white litigator targeting Trump—decided he didn't want to be the first person to die in the movie, and he rightly dropped his genned up case against Trump. But don't expect low-IQ Black prosecutors to do that same, thus Alvin Bragg, Letitia James, and Fani Willis continue their cases, a clear fight to see who can be the dumbest prosecutor in America. All their cases have fallen apart. But these clowns hold on to some delusion that a reward awaits. One thing I know for sure is that President Trump will take no prisoners in his second term. The good guy routine doesn't work with Leftists. And while no one should fear an elected official, deference should be paid to him and his supporters, and he should be allowed to do his job unencumbered…  [SEGMENT 1-2] Leftist hubris 2 - Muslim attack in Germany     Saudi Arabia issued three warnings to the German government about the perpetrator of the Magdeburg Christmas attack. Germany ignored them.    [SEGMENT 1-3] Missing in Action   AWOL in Washington: Who Needs Leaders When Nobody Notices They're Gone? Just in time for the holidays, America needs a new acronym to encapsulate the absurdities of modern governance: DOGE—Defenders of Government Evasion. If DOGE had been active six months ago, perhaps they'd have sniffed out the peculiar case of GOP Congresswoman Kay Granger. While her constituents in Texas assumed she was hard at work, it turns out Granger had been tucked away in a dementia facility for half a year. Six months of legislative MIA, and no one—not her staff, not her colleagues, not even Speaker of the House Mike Johnson—seemed to notice.  What exactly were her staff doing during this time? Besides collecting taxpayer-funded salaries, they apparently took up careers in creative writing, drafting fake updates and speeches to keep the charade alive. If we can't miss an elected representative for six months, perhaps it's time to rethink both her role and her office. And Granger isn't alone. Let's not forget the time Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin went AWOL—literally. While America danced on the edge of geopolitical chaos, with a proxy war in Ukraine and nuclear tensions with Iran, Austin quietly slipped away for what sources later described as a "routine medical procedure." That could mean anything from breast implants to a tummy tuck. You never know with Biden's military. Just like with Granger, no one noticed Austin's absence. The Pentagon hummed along without him. Again I ask, why do we need these people if they aren't missed even as we deal with global crisis supposedly in their wheelhouses? In another example, we get Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell. Introducing the latest poster child for career politicians who've overstayed their welcome. The man freezes on camera so often that Capitol Hill should invest in a de-icing machine. Yet his staff dutifully props him up, ready to swoop in whenever he stares blankly into the void. https://youtu.be/ID52HUMe8Vw?si=Rzf0lDtSnV8a_GPk Need more proof? https://youtu.be/CoTw84X5sMQ?si=S4QsnetVE5s-qVAW While McConnell blanking out is shocking, look at how staffers, sycophants, and suck-ups rally to make it look like "business as usual". McConnell recently announced he'd be “working from home." I interpret this as code for “transitioning to hospice.” What about The Big Guy? Of course, no discussion of absentee leadership would be complete without mentioning Joe Biden. Democrats practically wore his mental decline as a badge of "Stolen 2020 Election" honor. Further, they branded anyone who pointed out his glaring deficiencies as “ableist” or “conspiracy theorists.” Biden's handlers deserve an Oscar for their work. They've managed to convince a large swath of the public that the man who trips over sandbags and forgets names mid-sentence is still running the country. Meanwhile, key decisions are outsourced to shadowy advisors or simply left on autopilot. Yet for all their efforts, even the best spin doctors couldn't hide Biden's failures: record-breaking inflation, a border crisis of biblical proportions, and foreign policy blunders that have alienated allies and emboldened adversaries. The Problem of Political Lifers Granger's absence, Austin's AWOL act, McConnell's brain freezes, and Biden's zombie presidency highlight a deeper issue: America's addiction to political lifers. Take Dianne Feinstein, for example. Before her passing, Feinstein was wheeled into the Senate like an extra from a retirement home documentary, barely aware of where she was or what she was voting on. Yet she remained in office, her staff effectively running the show in her name. Why does this keep happening? Because staffers, lobbyists, and party operatives have every incentive to protect their power and paychecks. These political enablers shield their bosses from scrutiny, ensuring that the government operates more like a poorly managed corporation than a republic accountable to its citizens. A Government That Functions Without Its Leaders The absurdity of it all is that government continues to function—or at least stumble along—even when its key players are absent or incapacitated. This begs the question: do we even need them? If Austin can go AWOL, Biden can barely function, and Granger can disappear entirely without consequence, perhaps it's time to streamline the system. Elon Musk recently made waves by mandating in-office work at his companies, arguing that employees who aren't physically present are inherently less productive. Maybe it's time to apply that principle to Congress and the executive branch. Let's demand our elected officials show up, do their jobs, and be held accountable—or face termination, just like any regular employee. America Deserves Better The hypocrisy is staggering. These are the same people who preach about the importance of government while failing to fulfill their most basic responsibilities. It's time to demand better. Americans deserve leaders who are present, competent, and willing to take their jobs seriously. Anything less is just another chapter in the tragicomedy of modern politics.          [SEGMENT 1-4] Peace on Earth, Except TransitionAs part of the peaceful transition of power, Democrats want Trump to be responsible for raising the debt ceiling when he gets in office.   Just to drive home the point, look at these headlines I found:·       Trump rages after Dems successfully us Republican SpaceX trip to Appoint Biden…·       Big Deaf: Musk raises alarms by endorsing what's known as “German neo-Nazi party”·       Trump Seems Awfully Touchy About the Impression That He's Taking Orders from Elon Musk·       Don't Tell Trump, but a liberal donor network is already plotting to flip the House in 2026·       House Republican Swipe at Musk: Last Time I Checked, Elon Musk Doesn't Have a Vote…   Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-kevin-jackson-show--2896352/support.

"Christmas Music Sunday" Sunday Morning Worship with co-pastors Russ and Amy Jacks Dean. Park Road Baptist is located Charlotte, NC. For my information, please visit our website at ParkRoadBaptist.org Find us on Social Media: @ParkRoadChurch Image: “a beautiful digital file Designed by Feniqo of the Madonna Virgin Mary in an abstract stained glass style. This very evocative and emotional image conveys the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and grace of our Holy Mother.”

Lecture by Swami Tyagananda, given on October 27, 2024, at the Ramakrishna Vedanta Society, Boston, MA

Help us spread the message, Donate to the Apostolate Today! » ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://fatima.org/donate/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ A conference by Father Karl Stehlin. Learn more about the Militia Immaculatae » https://militia-immaculatae.org/english/ From The Fatima Center's  conference in Buffalo, NY (August 18, 2024).» ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://fatima.org/category/fatima-for-the-next-generation/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Watch the video here: » https://fatima.org/category/video/conferences/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://fatima.org/category/video/conferences/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Contact Us: » WEBSITE: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.fatima.org⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ » PHONE: 1-800-263-8160 » EMAIL: info@thefatimacenter.com » FACEBOOK: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.facebook.com/Fatima-Center-95998926441⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ » YOUTUBE: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.youtube.com/thefatimacenter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ » TWITTER: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/TheFatimaCenter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ » INSTAGRAM: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/the_fatima_center/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ The Fatima Center's mission is to ensure that the entire Message of Fatima is fully known, accurately understood, and deeply appreciated so that it may be followed by all. The Fatima Center has been faithful to this mission since it was founded by the late Father Nicholas Gruner in 1978.  The Message of Fatima is the ONLY solution to the crisis in the Church and the world.

O God, who by the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, did prepare a worthy dwelling place for Your Son, we beseech You that, as by the foreseen death of this, Your Son, You did preserve Her from all stain, so too You would permit us, purified through Her intercession, to come unto You. Through the same Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, world without end. Amen. Day 1 O most Holy Virgin, who was pleasing to the Lord and became His mother, immaculate in body and spirit, in faith and in love, look kindly on me as I implore your powerful intercession. O most Holy Mother, who by your blessed Immaculate Conception, from the first moment of your conception did crush the head of the enemy, receive our prayers as we implore you to present at the throne of God the favor we now request... (State your intention here...) O Mary of the Immaculate Conception, Mother of Christ, you had influence with your Divine Son while upon this earth; you have the same influence now in heaven. Pray for us and obtain for us from him the granting of my petition if it be the Divine Will. Amen. The post A Novena to the Immaculate Conception – Day 1 appeared first on Discerning Hearts Catholic Podcasts.

Fellatio Rites for the Ghost of John Wesley By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Jenna took a deep breath as she approached Oakwood Road Methodist Church. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Reverend Morris asked. She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine Simon. You don't need to worry. It's the ghost of John Wesley, not Jack the Ripper. This is exciting! I hope he'll appear!" "Right, well, I'll be sat in the car then. I hope you won't be too long. Remember, just turn and run the moment you feel in any way uncomfortable." "Reverend Morris, I think you're scared!""No I'm not! I can't help being concerned for the safety of the woman I love can I? Aren't you a tiny bit nervous?" "I'm as cool as spring water," Jenna replied. "I was reading all about John Wesley last night. He was a true gentleman. I'm sure this won't take long." Reverend Morris nodded as he watched his wife enter the church. "Well if anyone can fix this, Jenna can. I don't know what she said to the Archbishop of Canterbury last week, but he changed his mind about the wall plaque faster than the Government does U-turns. I wonder what she said to him? Whatever it was, Justin Welby was impressed!" He reclined in his car seat. "I was so lucky to meet Jenna. Of course, it was God who delivered her to me. That fateful Sunday morning in the vestry, oh." Father Aiden was walking along the street. Many things were on his mind. He had some important decisions to make about his future in the priesthood. Briefly glancing up from his smartphone, his heart jumped as he spotted Jenna entering the Methodist church across the road. "Holy Mother, " he muttered. A rush of excitement swept over him as he recalled the intimate encounter he'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. It was that which had spurred him to think about his future. He quickly crossed the road. "Hello Father!" The priest almost dropped his phone. Someone was shouting at him from a parked car. "Oh, Reverend Morris. Hello there." Damn, no chance of a repeat encounter, he thought. "I've just seen your wife going into the Methodist church." "Yes, I hope she won't be long. I'm just waiting for her." "Are you alright? You look a bit anxious, if you don't mind me saying." "It's a long story, Father. I think you'd better sit down in the passenger seat and I'll tell you. You've not heard about what's been going on in Oakwood Road church have you?" The priest looked confused. "Nope. Tell me more!" He opened the car door and sat down. I could do to unburden myself too." "Okay, well, this might sound a bit weird." "I can handle anything weird," Father Aiden replied. "It's about ghosts. As a Catholic, what are your thoughts on them and have you ever seen one?" Father Aiden thought about his answer very carefully. "Hmm. In theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human beings have "lost" their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is real." "So you've seen one?" "Yes. Two actually. Once in Ireland when I was a child and another when I was based in Liverpool. I was called upon to rid a family's home of a troubled spirit." Reverend Morris looked relieved. "That's good to know." "The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one is in 1 Samuel 28:8 thru 20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel." Father Aiden replied. "Have you seen a ghost?" "Yes. And not just any ghost, but the ghost of John Wesley! He's haunting the Methodist church. That's why I'm here. Jenna's gone in there to try and help him return to, the other side." "Oh I see, then she must, wait, what?" Father Aiden did a double take. "Thanks for coming' along Mrs. Morris," Reverend Ewing said, shaking Jenna's hand. "I know you probably think this whole thing is crazy." "Not at all! And call me Jenna. I'm a true believer. If my husband says that you and he saw John Wesley, then I know it's true. But why does John want to see me of all people?" "Your hubby mentioned that your grandma is a Methodist?" "Uh yeah. Bit of a tenuous link. Like Sir Henry Barrington-Smythe's horse." "Huh?" "Oh, never mind. Figure of speech." "You Brits and your little quirks!" Reverend Ewing laughed. "I'm still getting used to 'em!" "You said John usually appears in the vestry?" "Uh-huh. Can be anywhere in the church, but he seems to like the vestry best." "Right, well go and wait in there and say a few prayers, and see if he appears. I'm not sure I can do anything, but I'll try my best." Jenna entered the vestry. Everything looked perfectly normal in there. She closed the door and looked around. "It always comes back to the vestry," she smiled to herself as she recalled when she first got to know Reverend Morris. Suddenly, the row of gowns on the rail began to swing on their hangers. The temperature dropped, and Jenna rubbed her arms. "Are you there, John?" She called out. "Yes." She spun round. There was no sign of the spirit. "Hey, come on, show yourself at least. It's no fun talking to the invisible man." "My sincere apologies," John replied, and slowly faded into view. For the first time, Jenna was taken aback. "My God, you really are John Wesley, " He nodded and bowed. "Bless ye, for am so honored you hath come here. If I may be so bold to say, you be a lady of great beauty my dear." "Very kind of you to say, Mr. Wesley." Jenna said. "Why are you back in the land of the living? Aren't you happy in Heaven?" "Ah yes," he began. "Happier than mortals can ever imagine. But you see, I feel compelled to return to this realm every All Hallow's Eve. I like to re-visit the places where I worshipped back when I was alive. And it was in this very place where this church now stands that I preached to crowds back in the autumn of 1778." "You've got a lot of places to visit in just one night," Jenna said. "I read all about you. You traveled all over England spreading the Word of the Lord. Plus you went to America, the colonies, when you were younger." "Indeed I did, yes. To my regret, I lingered a little too long here, for I found myself unable to return to the afterlife. The sun had started to rise, heralding All Saint's Day. Thus, I am trapped here in this church until next All Hallow's Eve. Only a tremendous release of positive energy could allow me to return before then." "Oh dear. May I ask why out of all the people in the world, you wanted to see me? What can I do? My gran is a Methodist. Is that the reason?" "No Miss Jenna. It was your aura that attracted me. It's very strong. I believe God himself must've embodied you with some sort of innate goodness that allows you to help people." "You're making me sound like some kind of saint! I assure you I'm just a regular human being. I'm not particularly gifted in anything, although I do try to be a good person, " John had a rather dreamy expression on his face. "You remind me so much of Grace Murray, a lady I loved and lost, only you be far prettier than her." It was then that Jenna had an idea. A huge grin spread across her face. She'd read all about John Wesley's life and how unlucky he'd been in love. "A tremendous release of positive energy, you say? I think I know something which may cause that!" John put his hands together. "You do? Pray, do tell, my dear." "You need to experience an orgasm. What could be more positive than that?" He blinked. "I beg your pardon?" "Oh you know, " She tried to think of a period-appropriate phrase so he'd understand. "The end act of carnal relations?" He blushed. "Oh. Miss Jenna I be a man of God. I don't see how, " Jenna sank to her knees. "Only one way to find out, John!" She paused. So he's a ghost. I've never pleasured a ghost before. Isn't he composed of just gas? He's quite cute, for someone who died in 1791! I wonder if, She reached out to touch him, and expected her hand to pass right through his body, but it didn't. He jolted at her touch. "Don't worry John. I've done this before, many times in fact. It's a great honor to be able to do it to you. I'm sure this will help you." The moment of first contact had arrived. Jenna let one hand gently glide ever so slightly over John's thigh, encased in tight black breeches. Reaching out with the other hand, she ran it over his crotch, feeling an impressive bulge. "Oh my! I feel strangely warmed yet again!" John sighed. Jenna fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, being more used to zippers. Something large and splendid lurked within. Either that or he had a Bible stuffed down there. "My God!" she gasped, as the Methodist's member was revealed. The short, slightly-built John Wesley was hung like a horse! "How on earth were you so unlucky in love?" Jenna exclaimed. "Mostly the ladies deserted me long before I even reached the bedchamber," he mumbled. "Well I'm not deserting you." She pledged.Outside the vestry, Reverend Ewing paced back and forth, wondering what the strange groaning noises were all about. "The hell is going' on in there?" She said out loud. "Ah!" John sighed, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Thoroughly satisfied, he cried out in joy. "Thank you! Thank you so much!""Ah! I'm free once more! You've freed me Jenna! I can't thank you enough! I can return and be at peace!" He began to rise up into the air. "I hope we shall meet again sometime! Farewell and God bless!" Jenna stood up and wiped her lips. "Godspeed, John! Oh! Just one more thing, next time you visit, can you bring your brother Charles along?" Reverend Ewing was about to knock on the vestry door, when it suddenly opened. "Oh! Is everything alright?" "Everything's fine. You can reopen your church. John's spirit is at peace once more." "For sure? He's really gone? But how?" "I just said a prayer for him. Told him how much his teaching continues to inspire people to this day. That seemed to satisfy him and he just faded away." "Well thank you so much, Jenna," the reverend said, shaking her hand. "I'm so glad it's all over. It was really stressing me out! and I'm so happy that John is at peace in the Lord's kingdom again. Oh, what's that on your clothing?" Jenna looked down and was mortified at the huge globs of cum. "Oh dear. It's, candle wax. I didn't realize it had spilled. I must get going now, Reverend Ewing. Simon is waiting in the car and he'll be getting worried." "Of course. Thank you again, and give my regards to Simon!" When she'd gone, Reverend Ewing looked round the vestry. "Hmm, strange. There are no candles in here." The lecherous church warden meets his match. After peace was restored to Oakwood Road Methodist Church, and the spirit of John Wesley successfully liberated, Jenna and Reverend Morris turned their attentions to this weekend's Remembrance Sunday service. This was always a major event, and the people would be crammed into St. Michael's like sardines. "I've finally completed this special sermon," Reverend Morris said, handing Jenna his iPad. "Have a read and tell me what you think. I included your suggestions about the importance of teaching the younger generation about those who died in wars. Also the bit about Winston Churchill being a flawed figure. Good suggestion, that. As human beings we are all flawed in some way." "It looks fantastic. Let me grab a coffee and settle down to enjoy this!" "I hope it won't come across as too boring. You know I always get paranoid about my sermons. So many churchgoers dread a long sermon!" "Your sermons are always fun and relevant, Simon, You're too hard on yourself." The mild-mannered vicar smiled. "Aww, thanks! Oh and I hope Norman Winstanley behaves himself this weekend. I had to have a quiet word with him during the Wednesday morning service." "The new churchwarden? What's he done wrong?" "Well, as you know, he took over from dear old Albert who died last month. He'd previously been at St. John's, but sadly, that church has closed for good and is being demolished. Such a shame. It was a great church back in the day." "Very sad when a church dies. What are they building in its place?" Jenna asked. "An Aldi supermarket. Anyways, about Norman. He's sixty-five and a terrible lecher, to put it plainly. Some say he's Sid James and Benny Hill cranked up to eleven. He didn't get nicknamed Carry On Norm for nothing." Jenna was immediately intrigued. How come I've never noticed this guy before? She thought. "Ooh. So he likes to ogle young women does he?" "Yes, but not just young! I've seen him staring at the legs of older women too. Last Sunday, I caught him perving at Mrs. Wilcox when she was doing the flower arranging. And she's about eighty! Though I admit, she does have nice legs, for someone er, so mature." "Naughty boy. At least he's not ageist." Jenna said. "He needs to get on OnlyFans." Reverend Morris couldn't help but laugh. "You always try to see the best in everyone! Well just looking is one thing, but Norman has built up a bit of a reputation for being a qualified pincher of bottoms. I won't tolerate that sort of behavior. It's completely unacceptable. I'm surprised he's avoided getting into more trouble, to be honest." "Is he married?" "No, widowed. Took early retirement too. Has far too much time on his hands. And we all know that the Devil makes work for idle hands, " "So true," Jenna nodded. "He makes bottoms for idle hands to pinch. "I don't think I've seen Norman. What does he look like?" "Well he wears glasses and he's the spitting image of Frank Carson." Jenna blinked. "Who?" "Heh, I keep forgetting the age gap between us. Frank was a Northern Irish comedian. He's dead now. My dad was and still is a massive fan of him. He used to go and see him on stage at Blackpool in the 1990s." Reverend Morris looked up a picture of the comedian on his phone and showed it to her. "Ok. I'll keep an eye out for Norman this Sunday!" "If he tries anything with you, tell me at once!" "Oh don't worry. He wouldn't dare," Jenna replied, smirking to herself, an idea already forming in her mind. Naughty Norman. I can't have a churchwarden with wandering hands threatening Simon's church. I'd better get my hands on him before he causes any more trouble! As expected, the Sunday service was very well-attended. Jenna had arrived early, as she wanted to sit in a specific place right in the front pew. She chose to sit on the left side, in front of the organ. She'd chosen this spot because it was semi-hidden, due to a convenient pillar. More importantly, Norman the churchwarden would soon be standing here, just a few feet away, ready to direct people when it was time to take communion. For Remembrance Sunday, Jenna had chosen a smart, but conservative black dress and a silk scarf featuring a poppy pattern. She was wearing two paper poppy badges, and one of them was in a very intimate place. "I hope this isn't disrespectful to the war dead," she thought to herself as she crossed her legs. "But it's necessary. This is for the good of the church's reputation. Very helpful that these self-adhesive poppy badges exist now. I just hope it doesn't drop off, " Before long, Norman Winstanley appeared and Jenna recognized him at once. Her husband's Frank Carson description had been spot on. The guy looked just like him. A full head of white hair, glasses and bushy eyebrows. A stocky build, with a beer gut. Norman looked very smart. He was wearing a dark grey suit with white shirt and maroon tie. He had big hairy hands. Jenna wondered if other parts of his body were hairy. "Ah, that's him. Mr. Wandering Hands Winstanley," she said to herself. She should've been repulsed by this randy old boomer, like most women her age would be, but as usual, she found herself lusting after him and getting wet. "I wonder if he wears y-fronts like Gordon? He looks the type." Of all the different types of underwear she'd seen men of this church wearing, y-fronts and boxer shorts were her favorite. Norman stood in his usual place, ready to direct the lost sheep, as he termed the congregation, to the pews, and then out again, when called for communion. St. Michael's had an efficient system whereby the congregation, one pew at a time, went up for communion, walked in a circle round the church and back to their seat. This system had been introduced during the pandemic, but had proved so successful, it had been kept on. Suddenly, the strains of the organ interrupted the quietness of the church, as Gordon began playing the opening hymn, O God Our Help in Ages Past. Everyone dutifully stood up, and it was then that Jenna caught Norman's eye. She noticed him staring and winked at him. He winked back at her. Immediately, she knew she had his full, undivided attention. Who's that tasty little filly? Norman thought. I haven't seen her before. Mind you, I've only been helping out here a week. Not many young lasses in this church. She's a pretty one. Mmm, I'd like to goose her! Look at him, undressing me with his eyes, Jenna smirked. Oh he's horny all right. I think he needs a lot more than a butt cheek to pinch. I bet his balls are as blue as a Smurf's arse. The hymn finished, and everyone sat down, as Reverend Morris began the usual start of the morning Eucharist. "A very blessed welcome to all who have joined us today, for this, our special Remembrance Sunday service. We are gathered here today to reflect on those who gave their lives in the service of this country. At the same time, we reflect on those who are currently enduring the horrors of war. The people of Ukraine, Syria and Afghanistan. Let us pray, " Jenna bowed her head. At the same time, she crossed her legs and slid her dress up, exposing some creamy white thigh. Norman's eyes almost popped out of his head. She was sure she heard him utter a noise, rather like the whinny of a horse. At the same time, Gordon peered over the top of the organ, waiting for his cue to start playing the Gloria in Excelsis. His elevated position afforded him a perfect view of Jenna, when he spotted her sitting right at the front. He assumed she'd chosen to sit there for his benefit. "Venus herself," he muttered, gazing at her flawless legs and remembering the last time they'd been wrapped round his body at the vicarage social. He felt his cock starting to throb. "God she makes me feel glad that I was born a man!" A cough brought him to his senses. Josh the curate was desperately trying to attract his attention as discreetly as possible. "Oh, sorry!" Gordon whispered, fumbling with his music sheets. He started playing the Gloria. Jenna was getting excited just thinking about flashing her white panties. Her nipples were already erect and hard and she could feel that familiar warm, moist sensation between her legs. Slowly, she slid her dress up higher and uncrossed her legs, doing so in such a way that it was impossible to avoid a panty flash. She looked at Norman and raised an eyebrow. He let out an audible gasp and his face flushed a shade of red that looked as if his blood pressure had reached stroke-inducing levels. Fumbling in his pocket, he grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his face. Jenna noticed how his forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat. No-Nut November might be a thing, but not in my world, Jenna thought. At this rate, poor Norman will have collapsed before I even get to unzip him. He was looking at her again and she noticed his bulge in his trousers that he tried covering with crossed hands. Communion was rapidly approaching, and in the middle of the offertory hymn, Norman suddenly rushed off to the gents. When he returned a few minutes later, Jenna noticed his flies were unzipped. She wondered whether he'd done this deliberately or forgotten to zip up after having a pee or a wank. "So you want to play do you?" Jenna whispered and winked at him. Norman was holding an order of service booklet, and deliberately dropped it. As he squatted down to pick it up, the gap in his unzipped trousers widened, allowing Jenna a glimpse of his underwear. She was thrilled to have a peek at his pale blue y-fronts and the bulge contained within. "Very nice!" She mouthed to him and blew a discreet kiss. It was time to take communion, and being sat at the front, Jenna had to go first. Calmly, she rose from the pew and walked past the organ. As she did, the poppy pinned to her dress fell out. "Oh dear, she said, and bent down to pick it up. As she did, she ensured her dress rose up, revealing a flash of her panties. However it was Gordon who got the full eyeful. He leant over for a better look, and clumsily knocked a load of music books off the shelf at the side of the organ. "Damn and blast it," he muttered, scrambling to pick them up. Jenna took communion and walked round the church and down the side aisle. As she approached her pew, Norman "helpfully" held out his hand to direct her, and she took the opportunity to squeeze past him. As she did, she felt a hand cup her right buttock and give a little pinch. "You're a dirty old man, Mr. Winstanley," she said. "Luckily for you, I happen to be a dirty young woman." Quick as a whip, she slid her hand to his crotch and groped his bulge through his unzipped trousers. "Ah, oh!" Norman jolted in surprise. Jenna sat down and smiled at him. "I want to see more. Do you?" His nostrils flared, and he quickly backed off, squirming with arousal and bewilderment. Jenna wondered if she'd scared him off, but as the organ music resumed and communion ended, she saw him grab the order of service booklet again and hold it sideways against his crotch. Wondering where this would lead, she was ready to play. It was much more fun than her doing all the flashing. She raised her leg and slid a finger across her panties, pulling the material to the side, giving him a peek at her pubic hair. Norman felt like he was going to cum in his underpants, if this continued. His face was red and his breathing was shallow. He wondered just how much longer he could hold on, but hold on he did. This cheeky little filly was unlike any other woman he'd ever encountered. A wiser, less lecherous man would've backed off long ago, in this age of Me Too, mindful that he could be being led into a trap. But Norman was a shameless, seasoned groper and letch, and he wasn't going to back down now. Using the booklet to shield his crotch from other members of the congregation, a swift movement of his left hand freed his cock, and the top of it poked out from his blue underpants. Not looking down at himself, not acknowledging that his erect dick was visible, the churchwarden acted as if everything was normal. Jenna couldn't stop staring at his cock. It was more ram rod than sham rod. She licked her lips and made a gesture to him with a clenched fist moving up and down. What a delicious-looking cock he has! She was practically drooling like a dog in heat, in the same way he was drooling at the sight of her pubic bush. And speaking of which, she hiked up her dress and revealed the front of her panties. Attached to them was another paper poppy. Norman's jaw dropped. At the same time, Gordon craned his neck to peer over the top of the organ again and got a grandstand view of Jenna's poppy. "Holy shit!" He spluttered. He quickly sat down on the stool, but not before knocking his books over a second time. Further along the front pew, sat four old ladies all in their nineties, notorious gossips of the church. "I say Margaret, I think the organist is drunk. He's not quite himself. He was dreadfully out of time when he played the Gloria!" "Well really. It's disgraceful. On Remembrance Sunday of all days. Oh my good gracious, Mavis! Look at that! The churchwarden's flies are undone!" Immediately, the four of them leant forward in unison to get a better look. "Heaven's above, you can see his, concern! How shocking! Somebody should tell him!" "Maud, it's times like this that I really envy the youth. They have those fancy telephones that take instant photos." "The last time I saw a man in such a state was in 1943, and I'd just turned eighteen. Those American G I blokes, such good times!" Jenna couldn't wait any longer. The service wouldn't end for another ten minutes. Removing the poppy from her panties, she adjusted her dress and rose from the pew. "Join me in the gents," she whispered, and pressed the poppy into Norman's hand. "Lest we forget!" Norman just nodded, stunned. He glanced down at the poppy. My God, what a precious object. He would treasure it forever. Carefully placing it in his shirt pocket, he zipped up his trousers and discreetly made his way to the toilets at the front of the church. The gents toilets were empty, and Jenna made her way past the row of urinals and into the end cubicle. Moments later, she heard the door open and Norman entered. He nervously glanced round. "Pist, in here!" Jenna said, ushering him inside. She locked the cubicle door and closed the toilet lid. "Who are you?" Norman spluttered. "You're a cunning little vixen! I want to take handfuls of you, you're amazing! You've got me well and truly foxed!" "My name is Jenna," she replied. "And you're Norman, yes? Our new churchwarden?" He nodded. "If you don't mind," she said looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, "I'd love to suck that hard cock of yours." Norman looked like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once. "Oh Jenna, I'd love for you to suck me," he sighed. "I'd love to cum in your mouth. I'd love to watch you swallow all of my thick cum!" Jenna sat down on the toilet and unzipped his trousers, then unbuckled his belt. Wanting full, unobstructed access to the churchwarden's member, she pulled his trousers and y-fronts down to his ankles. Norman said nothing, he simply stood there, watching her work her magic. He never once wondered why such a young and attractive woman would want to suck his cock so willingly. It had been years, decades even, since a woman had wanted to pleasure him! He was actually getting a blowjob from a stunning redhead, for free!" "What a lovely cock you've got, Norman. I could see how big it was when you gave me that cheeky little glimpse of it in the church service earlier!" She wasn't lying. He did indeed have a nice plump shaft, with big balls, and wiry white pubes. "Some men are like fine wine, they get better with age!" Without hesitation, she impaled her mouth on his shaft. Taking him deep while stroking him, licking him, and sucking him. Norman put his hand on the back of Jenna's head. Jenna cupped his balls, feeling them throb and pulsate, she knew precisely when he was about to cum. At the same time, she ran her other hand up under his shirt, feeling his hairy paunch. "That tickles!" Norman murmured, sighing and groaning. Back in the church, the service had nearly ended, much to Gordon's relief. He really needed a pee. Thanks to Jenna, he needed a wank too, but there wasn't time. Whilst the vicar was reading out a lot of notices, he had just enough time to pop to the gents, relieve himself and head back to the organ to play the recessional hymn. "Mmm," Jenna murmured, her mouth full of cock. Suddenly, Norman heard someone else enter the toilets. "Jenna, someone's come in!" He whispered. "Mmm," was all she could reply, and continued sucking him. Gordon hurried to a urinal and unzipped his trousers. As he began to pee, a loud groan came from the end cubicle. He ignored it and continued relieving himself. The mystery bloke in the cubicle made several loud grunts. Gordon glanced round. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "That poor sod's got a bad case of constipation." He finished, zipped up, washed his hands and hurried out of the toilets, wondering who the unfortunate man was. "Oh, Oh fuck!" Norman groaned, as his climax neared. "Jenna! I'm going to give you a lovely, big creamy surprise!" "Give it to me, Norman!" She felt his cock quiver and his balls tightened in her hand and she got her first taste of his cum. Jet after jet of his thick seed squirted from his cock into Jenna's eager mouth. He took out his cock to allow her to swallow his load and, as she was doing so, he stroked it and managed to squirt a few more sticky blasts all over her face. "Ah," Norman panted. "That was wonderful Jenna, I enjoyed that more than anything. I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me! Did you like all my cum in that sweet mouth of yours?" "Oh I loved that! Your cum tastes so good, Norman!" Jenna lowered her head and planted a kiss on his cock and then on his sweaty, hairy balls. Doing a dreadful attempt at a Northern Irish accent, she added, "It's the way you tell 'em!" "Eh?" Norman said. "My poor attempt at a Frank Carson impression," she replied. "My husband said you resemble him." "You, you're married?" "Yes," Jenna said, standing up. "I'm the vicar's wife." A look of horror appeared on Norman's face. "Oh my God, " "Don't look so worried, Norman." She put her finger to his lips. "Our little secret, yes? Of course, you need to behave yourself from now on. A little birdy told me that you are quite liberal with those wandering hands of yours. No more bum pinching and goosing of any other ladies whilst you're in St. Michael's, is that understood?" He nodded, panic in his eyes. "Say it out loud, in God's name. Because God knows everything." "In the name of God, I promise I'll keep my hands to myself," Norman said. "That's my Norm," she replied, planting a kiss on his lips. "We'd better get out of here. Other chaps will be coming in. You go first." "R-right. Okay." Norman zipped up his trousers, fastened his belt, composed himself and hurried out of the cubicle. He opened the door and glanced round. "There's no-one here. Quick, you dash into the ladies." Jenna ran past him. As she did, she pinched his arse. "Until next time then," she giggled. Norman breathed a sigh of relief and opened the main door that led back into the church. The service had ended and people were starting to file out of the pews. Norman wiped his forehead. His mind was spinning. Not looking where he was going, he almost walked into Gordon, who'd seen him leaving the toilets. "Sorry," he muttered. "No worries," Gordon replied. "Listen, there's a first aid kit and other medicine in the vestry. I can get you some Dulcolax tablets." Norman looked confused. "What?" "No need to be embarrassed. All us older blokes get constipated from time to time. I couldn't help but overhear you in the gents earlier, and you seemed to be in bloody agony with your bowels!" To be continued. By Blacksheep, for Literotica.

A sequel to "Jenna Goes to Church" By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. A sequel to "Jenna Goes to Church. More fun with the ever-horny Jenna and the good chaps of St. Michael's church and beyond! At the Vicarage Social, Jenna meets an ordained Priest. A full year had passed since Jenna Fox had started attending St Michael's church. During that time, she'd carried out God's work and in the true Christian spirit, brought much happiness to several male members of the church, thus helping them to become better Christians. In her new role as a vicar's wife, she finds there are still many other men of the church in need of guidance,Reverend Simon Morris and his wife Jenna were holding their annual November social at the vicarage. November always seemed such a depressing month, when, after the initial excitement of Guy Fawkes Night, nothing much happened. Christmas was still a little too far away, although the shops had been selling festive stuff since September. It got earlier every year. The usual members of St. Michaels church were in attendance, Gordon Leesmith the church organist and choirmaster, Josh the curate, Bishop George, Yulia et al, plus a few new faces from other churches that Jenna hadn't seen before. Jenna was wearing a low-cut, black velvet dress and a diamond encrusted cross necklace. A couple of times, she caught a tall, serious-looking man in the corner of the room staring at her. He quickly averted his eyes when she looked at him. "Wonder who he is?" The chap was clad in black and wearing a clerical collar, so evidently a vicar or priest of some kind. She knew most of the clergy at the local churches, but had never seen this guy before. Gordon was circulating, and on the hunt for a toilet. Beer always went straight to his bladder. "Great atmosphere Jenna," he said, winking at her. "You look lovely by the way." "Why thank you," she winked back. "You look rather fine yourself. That navy blue suit, Umm. We need more men in suits. Down with casual dress I say!" The organist still turned her on, despite her offloading him onto Yulia's willing friend Martika. "A shame Martika couldn't attend tonight." "Yes, she's been struck down with flu. Been in bed all week." "Aww." They looked at each other. Gordon's face bore an expression that was pretty much screaming, "I am unbearably horny and really need a fuck right now, I know you're the vicar's wife now but I still fancy you like crazy and miss your lips on my cock, " "Er is there a downstairs loo here?" He said. "There's a queue for the upstairs one and I'm bursting for a pee." "Afraid not. Hard to believe in a house this size I know. There's always the back garden. Plenty of bushes and it's dark." Jenna replied, and tossing him a crumb of hope, added. "I might join you out there later." Gordon's face lit up. "Okay. Thanks!" Jenna scanned the living room. Presently, her husband appeared. "Nice to see so many guests. I didn't think so many would turn up!" "I know, It's great!" Jenna couldn't help but notice that there were way more male guests than female ones. "I wonder why that is?" She grinned to herself. "By the way, who's that guy in the corner over there? He looks like he's at a funeral rather than a vicarage social. His face could turn milk sour." Reverend Morris looked. "Oh. That's Father Aiden. He's a Catholic priest. Only been in this neck of the woods for a few weeks. He's taken over at St Gregory's. Prior to that he was based in Liverpool. Huge Irish community there of course, and I believe he was born in Dublin." "Can't get more stereotypically Irish, can he?" The name, the look: Father Aiden had black hair, pale blue eyes and a bone-white complexion. His hairstyle struck Jenna as being somewhat old-fashioned, with sideburns. "He'd be good at playing a vampire. Why's he looking so miserable? Is it because he's in a Church of England vicarage?" Reverend Morris laughed. "Ha! No, my love. All denominations are welcome at this vicarage, we've got the Oakwood Road Methodist guys here too and the Living Earth Free Church. From what I've heard, Father Aiden is just a very serious man. It's just how he is. He's probably enjoying himself, even though he looks miserable." "If he's a Catholic priest does that mean, " "Oh yes. Vow of celibacy." "That's the real reason he's miserable then!" Jenna replied. "Indeed. Whilst I respect his vows, personally it's something I could never adhere to!" "Nope. You like pussy too much, Rev." "Jenna, shush! You're making me blush!" "I'm right though." "You know I can never get enough of your pussy," the vicar whispered in her ear. "I must go and mingle, before I get another hard-on." Jenna sensed the moment was right to get to know the mysterious Father Aiden a bit better. The priest was currently being bored to death by an elderly woman from St. Michael's who was lamenting the state of modern Britain. ", And like I keep saying, this country went to the dogs long ago. Useless, lying politicians, rising crime, rising cost of living. Unbridled filth peddled on every street corner. I imagine, Father, coming from a big city like Liverpool, this small town must seem like paradise to you. Don't be fooled! County lines are a big problem! And the local park. Would you believe it? It's become a dogging hotspot, " Father Aiden said nothing and just nodded patiently at her. Sensing he needed rescuing, Jenna cut in. "Sorry Mrs. Grimes, can I just interrupt and borrow Father Aiden for a minute? I need to discuss something." "Oh be my guest," the pensioner replied. "He's not got a lot to say." "Probably because he couldn't get a word in," Jenna muttered under her breath as Mrs. Grimes shuffled off. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jenna, Reverend Morris' wife. Nice to meet you, Father Aiden." She held out her hand, and he reluctantly shook it. "Hello." The priest spoke at last, in a thick Irish accent, his dour expression unchanging. "You look rather trapped. Too many people here for your liking?" "A little." Father Aiden replied. He looked extremely uncomfortable in Jenna's presence. "I'm still, finding my feet around this area." "I'm sure you'll settle in just fine, Father. Have you tried any of the buffet? My husband's a great cook; he's made some great cakes and, " "Maybe later. I, I would appreciate a cup of tea if possible." "Oh no problem. Why don't you take a seat in the snug? You'll find it more relaxing in there. Less chatter." "Thanks." He skulked off. Jenna took a deep breath. "Blimey, what a cold fish. I'd get better conversation out of a statue. Still, early days. With a little bit of help, he's bound to open up sooner or later." Far from putting her off, Father Aiden's stern exterior only served to fascinate Jenna further. And the fact he was a celibate priest, .hmm. That couldn't possibly be good for him, could it? Moments later, she brought him a cup of tea. "Here you go," she said, putting it on the side table by his chair and taking a seat opposite him. "Thanks, Mrs. Morris." "Jenna, please." He twitched. "Jenna." "I've never met a Catholic priest before," Jenna said, and Father Aiden straightened in the chair and braced himself for the usual questions he was always asked, usually concerning vows of celibacy. He swallowed as he noticed how close Jenna was to him. Damn. She looks so much like Róisín, but even prettier. I can't believe this. "Well, we're not that rare," he mumbled, sipping his tea. "I know very little about the Catholic church," Jenna continued. Nobody in my family is Catholic. Mostly Church of England, and a few Methodists, " "I'm sure your husband can help you with any questions you might have," Father Aiden said, and Jenna wondered if this was his polite way of saying "please leave me in peace." Pretending to be upset, Jenna stood up. "I, I'm sure you're right, Father. I'm sorry for bothering you." She hurried out of the snug. Alone at last, Father Aiden smacked his forehead. "Why does this keep happening to me? Why do I always end up saying the wrong thing?" "Definitely a lot of issues with that one," Jenna smirked to herself. A couple of chips on both shoulders methinks. I'm not giving up on the good Father though. Maybe in time, he'll soften a little." Gordon had successfully relieved himself on the rose bushes in the vicarage's back garden. "Ah, that's better. I'm sure those plants needed a good watering," he muttered, zipping up his trousers. Hearing the back door opening, he spun round. "Hi there," Jenna smiled. "It's a bit cold out here, Gordon. You'll be getting a chill in your organ pipe." "Umm. I was hoping you might be able to warm it up." Jenna glanced round and took him by the hand. "In that case, come with me, " In the garage, Gordon's face flushed red with lust as Jenna leaned against a car, hiked up her dress and slipped her hand inside her drenched black panties. Her aroused smell met his nose and made his stiff cock throb more than ever. Already his pre-cum was leaking out. The fact that she was now the vicar's wife, was turning him on even more. "Oh God, Jenna. You always know what buttons to press," Gordon groaned, as she ran her hand down his crotch, cupping his bulge. "Don't you mean which stops to pull out?" She teased, unzipping his trousers. "Your cock is like the Wurlitzer organ in Blackpool Tower. It's always rising." "Ha-ha. That's why it needs you to play it," he chuckled. Jenna ran her hand down the front of his y-fronts. "Ooh, I'm not the only one here who's got damp undies!" Gordon groaned again. Jenna pulled out his cock and squeezed his balls. As she groped his manhood, she realized just how wet with pre-cum it was. "Nice and sticky, just how I like it." She knelt down and teasingly licked the head of his cock before putting it in her mouth. "Umm yes!" Gordon hissed as the vicar's wife began giving him a good blow. He'd remembered just how brilliantly Jenna was at giving blowjobs. Back during that day in church, she'd given him some superb head. Jenna withdrew and reclined on the bonnet of the car. She rubbed her neatly-trimmed bush of pubic hair and Gordon knew what she wanted him to do. With just one finger at first, the organist began tracing circles around the outside of her wet pussy. Jenna moaned, enjoying the attention, but wanting more. Sensing this, Gordon spread her pussy lips with his finger and pushed inside her, spreading her walls and began to fuck her with it. Then he lowered his head. Very slowly at first, teasing her into a state of desperate pleasure, he tongued her, savoring her juices. "Oh Gordon!" Jenna screamed. She began moving her body in time to his motions, trying to get his tongue to go even deeper. Then without warning, Gordon stopped his treatment, as he felt her hand brush against the head of his prick. "Slide your organ pipe in," she purred, knowing he got such a kick from these corny phrases. "With pleasure!" Positioning the tip of his dick right up against her wet opening, he slid inside her and was soon thrusting with vigor. "Umm, more Gordon! Yes!" He continued pumping her hard and fast, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming his dick all the way back in. He grabbed her hips to steady himself, still fucking her rapidly. Then their coupled bodies convulsed ferociously, and Gordon's pulsating member filled Jenna's snatch with his cum. "Here endeth the organ lesson," Jenna said, planting a kiss on his lips. Gordon kissed her back. "Oh thanks Jenna. I enjoyed that immensely." "And you really needed that!" She replied, adjusting her clothing. "It's not good for an organist to have so much cum building up like that, there might be a risk of a ruptured bellows." Gordon zipped up his trousers. "Far worse than trapped wind!" They both laughed. "We'd better get back to the party. I'll go first, okay?" Jenna headed out of the garage. As she walked round the side of the house, she almost walked straight into Father Aiden. "Oh!" He recoiled in shock. "Mrs, er, Jenna." "Father Aiden! You made me jump! Don't tell me you're looking for a downstairs toilet too?" He blinked. "Um no. I was, er, I wanted to apologies for earlier. I was very rude. Whatever must you think of me? You being the vicar's wife and all." "I'd say you're a chap who's just finding his way in a new place," Jenna smiled. Even in the dark, his watery blue eyes seemed to be staring right into her soul. "Anyways, apology accepted!" Before he could say another word, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Would you like another cup of tea, Father?" Father Aiden clutched his chest as though he'd glimpsed Satan himself. A look of horror on his face. "What's the matter?" Jenna said, glancing back at him. "My tea isn't that bad is it?" The Priest is caught masturbating "Holy Spirit, come into my heart and show me my sins. Give me a proper spirit of repentance and the grace to make a good confession. Give me your peace that I might not be anxious but rather trust in your abundant mercies." Father Aiden said a prayer to himself. He was anxiously sitting in his confessional, awaiting the arrival of any lost sheep who were in need of his guidance. Here of all places, he needed to be focused on his job as a priest, yet his mind was on other things. Last night, he'd attended a gathering at St. Michael's vicarage. He hadn't really wanted to go, as social events made him uncomfortable, but had gone along to show willing. It had been his first social since he'd left Liverpool. It had all been going well until he'd met the vicar's wife, Jenna. The woman had shocked him to the core. She reminded him so much of Róisín, a twentysomething woman whom he'd developed feelings for back in Liverpool. He'd come perilously close to breaking his celibacy vows with her, they'd kissed passionately a couple of times in the confessional booth, until Father Aiden's nerves and guilt finally got the better of him and he'd pushed her away. Feeling it best to move on before things developed into something more serious, he quit his post and requested to be moved elsewhere. He'd narrowly avoided a scandal. Father Aiden was thirty-five, and had been a priest for eight years now. He recalled his early years, growing up in a small village near Dublin. As rigidly as he'd stuck to his celibacy vows since joining the priesthood, Father Aiden was no virgin. As an eighteen year old, he'd been an altar boy at his local church, and lost his virginity to Sara, a much older married woman who was a member of the congregation. They'd enjoyed passionate romps in the confessional booths, in the vestry, just about everywhere. Sara had a very high sex drive and didn't get any from her dull husband. Then a nightmare situation. Sara had fallen pregnant. Aiden's world had been rocked. In their strict Catholic community, even the thought of getting an abortion was out of the question. Aiden had resigned himself to becoming a young dad, but then just as he was starting to like the idea, fate intervened and Sara suffered a miscarriage. He didn't think it would have affected him so badly, but it did, and he blamed himself. It had been a punishment from God. From that day on, Father Aiden made up his mind to become a priest, much to the delight of his parents. However, much as he tried to bury any sinful urges, Father Aiden struggled. After Róisín, he hoped he wouldn't be attracted to another woman, but now he'd seen Jenna Morris, and been immediately smitten. "Dear God, help me not to be so weak in body and mind. I must cast out these sinful thoughts." He was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the confessional. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned." A middle-aged man said. "It's been a week since my last confession." Father Aiden composed himself and did his duty as a priest. Jenna grinned as an Amazon delivery van pulled up outside the vicarage. "Oh good. It's arrived. That was quick." Reverend Morris was coming down the stairs as she was eagerly opening a parcel. "What do you think?" Jenna said, holding up a nun costume. "Ooh sexy. That'll turn heads at the church hall's fancy dress party next month! How very naughty and sinful. Better hope that Father Aiden doesn't turn up to that, eh? Might prove a bit too much for him! Talking of which, would you mind calling at St. Gregory's and dropping off that book he wanted to borrow?" "No problem," Jenna replied. She picked up the paperback. "The Seeker by S G Maclean. Oh, he's into historical fiction is he? Well good to know he has other interests." Reverend Morris started laughing. "Heh, I don't know how I coped when the curate made that joke to him at the social. I know Josh had had way too much to drink but, dear God, I could've died when he started going on about Catholic priests lusting after choirboys." "What? I must've missed that! It must've been when I was f, er, talking to Gordon." "Yes. Father Aiden didn't see the funny side at all. I don't think Josh will even remember what he said to him. Anyways, I had to apologies!" Jenna couldn't help but snigger. "By the way, who are you going to dress up as for the party?" "Haven't decided yet. You once said I looked like Prince Edward, perhaps I should dress as up in Royal robes and get a crown? Anyways, I must get going. I've got a meeting with Bishop George. What a busy week. Christopher's coming round tomorrow." "It's be lovely to see him. If the weather's nice, we can have a day out somewhere. I know how much he loves dinosaurs, why don't we take him to the museum?" "Sounds great! Okay, I'll be back around four. Take care my love. Do give Father Aiden my best wishes." The vicar embraced her and they shared a lingering kiss, before he reluctantly tore himself away. Alone in the house, Jenna turned to the nun costume. Just how would Father Aiden react? "That would be a risk worth taking," she said out loud. Father Aiden had retired to his study. Saturdays were always quiet, and he relished this calm period. Reclining in a chair, he closed his eyes, Slowly, he unbuttoned his cassock. Before long he'd unzipped his trousers too. He was alone in the privacy of his study. His dick was now standing fully at attention. With mental images of Jenna Morris filling his head, Father Aiden took it in his hand and stroked it. He started talking out loud, as though reading out an erotic story where Jenna was pleasuring him. "She settles to her knees between my thighs, opens my cassock and reaches up to open my trousers." He stopped and moaned. "My willing lamb Jenna starts by licking the tip, tasting my precum. It is like silk. She then takes the head into her mouth and sucks it, darting her tongue into the slit. By now, I am rock hard, but still silent. She then takes my entire shaft into her mouth and keeps it there, running her tongue along the bottom. My cock shivers in her mouth; my only reaction. For what she is about to receive, I know she is truly thankful." Father Aiden was furiously pumping his cock up and down. "I gently place my hand on her head, and utter another prayer. My eyes are closed. I am about to come. I can't explain how glorious a moment this is. My lamb is so skilled, and now her sins shall be absolved." He was panting as he felt his orgasm building. Jenna parked the car in the street opposite St. Gregory's. The church was a grand old building, double the size of St. Michael's. The plaque on the railings described the church in eloquent fashion: ", an edifice in the Early English style, consisting of a basidial chancel, nave, transepts, north porch, lady chapel, and an embattled western tower, added in 1894 and containing 8 bells." "Never been in this church before. Oh well, first time for everything." with her usual bold as brass demeanor, she entered the church. "Wow, this is pretty ornate," she remarked. The place appeared deserted. No churchwardens or other staff anywhere. There was no sign of the priest. Jenna walked around the church, nosey-parkering here and there. She waited for a while, wondering if someone might come out of the confessional, but evidently that was empty too. Then she heard a muffled voice coming from a door at the back of the church. "She knows I am ready and expects me to moan or yell, but all I do is tense slightly, for there are still other members of the congregation in the church. Then she feels my load in her mouth. She swallows everything, letting the last bit rest on her tongue so she can savor it." Father Aiden continued muttering to himself, in between moans. Jenna put her ear to the door. It was Father Aiden's voice alright, and he sounded like he was talking to someone on the phone. Then a load groan made her take a step back.. "What the hell is he doing in there?" She wondered. She was about to knock, but what he said next made her gasp. "She continues to suck my cock, a soft and gentle motion, caressing me with her lips and tongue, the feeling of this is indescribable. When she removes her mouth, she kisses the tip of my cock, and I moan, oh dear God, yes, yes!" Jenna squinted and peered through the keyhole. Her eye widened as she witnessed the priest reclined in a chair, masturbating furiously. He had that same miserable expression on his face, but his pale complexion was tinged with a blush, and he was grunting, seconds later he climaxed, shooting his seed into his free hand. "Oh wow!" Jenna couldn't believe what she was seeing. "No wonder he was so miserable. Just look how horny the poor man is!" She licked her lips. The priest had an attractive uncut cock and to say it was large was an understatement. Though tempted to walk in and suck it right there, Jenna decided against it. "No. Not yet. I must wait for the right moment. And then I'll finally put a smile on this face." As he recovered from his orgasm, Father Aiden finished with a prayer. "God, I thank you for your abundant mercies. No sin of mine is beyond your power to forgive, and your forgiveness has restored my soul to friendship with you. Thank you for never ceasing to love me even when my actions show that I do not love you fully. Thank you for seeking me out as the shepherd seeks the lost sheep." A dull thud outside the door brought him to his senses. Quickly, he wiped the cum of his hand with a tissue and zipped up his trousers. Cautiously opening the door, he looked around. The church was deserted, but there was a vague scent of a familiar perfume in the air, where had he smelt that before? He glanced down. And saw the book. He bent down to pick it up. "Holy Mother of God, " Jenna had been here! Beauty and the Priest Friday night presented a perfect opportunity. Jenna's heart was pounding as she made her way to the clergy house where Father Aiden resided. The nun costume was proving to be quite itchy and uncomfortable, seeing as she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. To be expected of cheap Chinese tat purchased on Amazon. Still, the costume would serve its purpose, she hoped. Father Aiden reclined in an armchair as he read a chapter of the book that had been left in the church. Normally, he would be immediately engrossed in the story, but his mind was elsewhere. "Did she hear what I was saying? She must've heard something." The thought that the vicar's wife might have overheard what he'd been saying was mortifying. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, jolting him back to reality. "Who could that be at this late hour?" The priest mused as he got up. Usually the odd lost sheep called round, mostly Eileen Hattersley, a lonely old widow always in desperate need of a chat and reassurance. Then there was Bernard, a troubled fifty-something man whom Father Aiden suspected was closeted. He opened the front door. What he saw was almost sufficient to make him faint. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." "Uh, Jenna? What, the, what are you doing here?" "Well Father, I would've thought my intentions were rather obvious. Please may I come in?" His stern expression remained the same. He took a deep breath as he ushered her inside. "I know why you've come," he said at last. "You left the book the other day, didn't you? You obviously heard me, in my study." "I did," Jenna replied. "And yes, I heard." His ice-cold calmness slipped a little. "Celibacy, is hard," he murmured, staring at the floor. "I can only apologies for the disgraceful things you heard." Jenna raised her hand and touched his cheek. "But you have nothing to apologies for, Father. "Hearing you saying your erotic thoughts out loud was a huge turn-on. And a relief as well. Nice to know that priests have lustful urges like the rest of us." "Oh dear God Jenna, that's just the problem. I'm having too many of these lustful urges. I'm a poor servant of God. I can't stick to my vows. I'm sinning whilst in church, what is God to do with me?" Jenna thought for a moment. "Your opinion of God is different from mine. I was always taught that because he sent Jesus, who died for us, we do not need to fear eternal punishment for sin. You seem such an unhappy man, Father. Why not be truly honest, as God knows your thoughts anyway. Tell me, what do you truly want?" The sight of her dressed as a nun and giggling in a coquettish manner was sufficient to send blood surging to his manhood. He didn't reply, just put his hands to her face and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Oh Father!" Jenna whispered. The priest recoiled at once. "I-I'm sorry. Please forgive me." "You are forgiven. Now please kiss me again." He gazed at Jenna, moving his head in closer to kiss her on the lips. She pressed up against his body, feeling his hands on the small of her back. He broke it off. Jenna used the opportunity to gently bite the side of his ear, running over his inner ear with her tongue. He stiffened as she moved across his ear, going down until she got to the lobe. Father Aiden moaned, his breath warm on her cheek. His open mouth pressing into it. He didn't respond further. Jenna dislodged herself from his ear, causing him to look up as he moved his head. "Come," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the sitting room. Jenna liked the way he was taking control like this. "Yes, Father." In the middle of the room, he stood facing her. "Kneel." She did as he asked. Father Aiden unbuttoned his cassock, revealing a straining bulge in his black trousers. "Please, heal me," he whispered. Jenna needed no further encouragement. Putting her hands together in a prayer, she smiled up at him. "For what I am about to receive, may the Lord make me truly thankful." Slowly, she unbuckled his belt and started on his trousers. Father Aiden's huge cock sprang free the moment she unzipped them, and Jenna was surprised that he was commando under there. "Are all Catholic priests as well-endowed as you?" She commented as she lowered her mouth over the end of his erection. Father Aiden simply shrugged. Jenna sucked on the head, tasting him as she ran her tongue over the sensitive opening, while pumping the shaft with her hand. She took more and more of his hardness into her mouth until she felt him hit the back of her throat. She relaxed and pushed on until she had his entire holy tool in her mouth and she was nuzzling his pubic hair. He groaned as he grabbed the back of her head and thrust into her mouth. The priest could not believe his eyes as Jenna took him into her mouth. Never would he have dreamt that his dull evening would have ended like this. And yet here this beautiful young woman was sucking on his hardened member. He groaned with pleasure at the sensations of her warm mouth on him. He was afraid to move at first, so he stood still, giving her free reign. Jenna continued to suck and was amazed to see Father Aiden's erection become even thicker and harder under her ministrations. She had never seen anyone so well-endowed, putting even her husband to shame. Her hands pumped the bottom of his shaft up and down as she continued to suck. Without saying anything, Father Aiden beckoned Jenna to stand up. He led her to the armchair and raised the nun costume, above her waist. He let out a sigh as Jenna's unclothed pussy was revealed to him. He liked the fact she was unshaved down there, unlike so many of the women he'd seen in porn videos, waxed and plucked so much that their pubic areas reminded him of supermarket chickens. Father Aiden slid down and began to slowly lick, nibble and suck her clitoris. "Oh my God Father, " Jenna exclaimed. Hearing her utter his title like that, emboldened him. He licked and fingered her some more, and could feel her impending climax building, her hips rose up, she arched her back and started to yell. "Oh Father; oh, yes! Father Aiden worked his tongue up inside her womanhood, swirling it around. His upper lip brushed her clit and moments later she exploded, squirting on his tongue and face. With a single finger, Father Aiden took some of the juice and marked the sign of the cross on his forehead. Still, he said nothing! After she'd recovered, he stood up and gently helped Jenna to her feet. He looked deeply into her eyes, and brought her lips to his. They kissed passionately, Jenna tasting her own juices on the priest's tongue. Finally, Father Aiden withdrew, and removed his clothes. Jenna did the same, glad to be free of the itchy nun costume. "Oh," she smiled, noticing his dark chest hair. She ran a finger through it. Father Aiden took her hands in his and pulled her down to the floor. He reclined on the sheepskin rug. The warmth and light from the wood burning stove played across her body as Jenna straddled the priest and slowly lowered herself onto his erect pole. His thick head slid into her, stretching her to the limit. She paused to get adjusted to the mass of flesh inside of her, then continued to push down, filling herself. Father Aiden groaned with pleasure as he felt himself enter Jenna's tight opening. She kept moving up and down his shaft, each time lowering herself further and further until he was completely buried inside of her. The feeling of his erection deep inside her tight wet opening was incredible. He reached up and caressed her breasts as Jenna rode up and down his throbbing rod. Pressure began to build in Father Aiden's groin as Jenna continued to slide up and down his erection, slick with her juices. Her hot tunnel gripped him like a vice and seeing this beautiful redhead riding him, eyes closed, mouth open gasping with pleasure as he kneaded her breasts was too much for him. He felt the pressure continue to build, then a tightening at the base of his balls until he felt like he was about to explode. The waves of pleasure built to a peak until the continuous pummeling pushed Jenna over the edge and her body convulsed as she climaxed a second time. As she writhed in pleasure above him, Father Aiden felt himself explode as he released his load deep into her womb. His cock seemed to spasm forever as he shot spurt after spurt of cum, filling her until he was completely drained. Jenna collapsed on top of him, also completely spent. When Jenna opened her eyes, Father Aiden was staring right back at her, and he was smiling. A truly lovely smile. To be continued. By Blacksheep, for Literotica.

Becoming something of value has its downside. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Live fast, die young and leave a; No. Enjoy life and die when it is your time. Your corpse will the least of your concerns if there really is an Afterlife.”  (Monday) For some God-unknown reason I was showing up to work at 6 a.m. Monday. I swear, one of these days I'm going to show up to work naked. If asked why, I'll claim that it wasn't in my brilliantly scripted orders. I would then beg forgiveness for 'assuming' I was allowed to breath, or even be conscious. We'd all laugh. Nothing would change. They were never going to give me advance warning of what my latest errand entailed. I don't think it was in them. "You've made to Week Three," Buffy sneered as we entered the garage beneath Havenstone's skyscraper. "I'm flabbergasted." "So am I; flabbergasted that is," I nodded sagely. "I had no idea you knew what flabbergasted meant." Punch. Definitely back to the old Buffy. "You need a haircut," she commented. My phone beeped. I had data packet. I had received them before; just not from this place. I opened it up as we exited the car and made for elevators. "Holy Bat-shit Bat-Bunny!" I gasped. "Hayden's written me a letter." "Really?" Buffy was momentarily non-psychotic. I showed her my screen. Hayden had made an official declaration; something that would be in the records of the Amazons from now until forever. Any and all males of Havenstone; specifically one Cáel Nyilas; were to forthwith and immediately stop spiritually assassinating any and all Amazons and Amazon recruits. Furthermore, I was admonished for murdering Fabiola Dobrani and, under penalty of an unmentioned punishment, I was to publicly rejoice at her resurrection. Life was relentless. Buffy's phone rang. She got the same message I did; as did every freaking Amazon in the building. I didn't think the guys would be getting this memo. "I wonder how the Chicklettes are going to take this," I mused. The doors opened before Buffy could formulate her comeback. Relentless may have not been a strong enough word. Waiting for us in two distinct groups were Constanza with two SD Playboy Bunnies; opposite them was Oneida. Oneida looked; enamored. This wasn't curiosity about what my meat would feel like as it made her weep tears of rapture. This was a weekend binge of watching some of the best received, twenty-something, romantic movies of the past ten years. It was hard for me to decide which group was more divorced from reality; the Amazon man-haters, or the 'Hollywood was real' babe. "I'm going to get a bite to eat," Buffy announced. Entering the garage had completed her bodyguard duties. Oneida had the higher prestige so she came first. "Hi Cáel Nyilas," she stepped up and greeted me. She extended her hand; for me to shake. Amazons clasped forearm to forearm. I greeted her Amazon-style. "It is good to see you again, Oneida of House Arinniti," I replied. She looked upset. "You know who I am," she sighed with disappointment. "Please believe me," I stroked the side of her left cheek to the top of her ear, "had I known Friday, I would have finished up by impaled myself on your spear and cleared up a whole manner of things. Why does it matter to you that I know who you are?" "I; I didn't want to be treated as anyone special," she gazed up at me with innocent eyes. "That's not going to be a problem," I chuckled. "To me, you are nothing but another psycho-bitch that's trying to kill me. You are a black-hearted, soulless creation of Hell and I hate your guts, Oneida." "But you saved my life?" she whimpered. She was a bit more unbalanced than the normal babe employed here. Yay me. "And? See, this is why my description of you and your sisters is so accurate," I smiled while I explained. "I would try to save almost anyone because it is the right thing to do. The only reason saving you was a mistake was that it caused me to fall further into Hayden's favor. Now she's going to expect that shit on a regular basis solely because you are of House Arinniti." "Ah; I like you," Oneida pleaded. "Why?" I asked. "You risked so much for Aya. You made her laugh and smile. You; you acted as if you cared for her; as if you were her own mother," Oneida told me. "Was that a deception too?" "Hmmm; not what I expected," I mused. "Fine, realizing that I was with Aya for her sake and hers alone raises you up a step in my estimations. I'm not being deceptive about how I feel about this place, Oneida. Here, let me prove it." I looked to Constanza. "Constanza, do I hate your guts?" She glared at me. "Constanza, if I thought I could get away with it, would I shove a fragmentation grenade up your ass and pull the pin?" No response. "See," I grinned to the gawking Oneida, "I'm not being deceptive about how I feel about this place. My opinion matters not at all to these women yet they know I'll never act on my hate because of my own, perverse Code of Conduct. I'm not going to run away and I'm not going to stop being me. I'm certainly not going to fall in love with anyone here." "Oh," she muttered. "I have to go to work now. Have a nice day," I turned to Constanza. "Are you my work buddy today?" "Male, come with us," Constanza snapped. Off the four of us walked; right back to the elevator. Down we went, past any level my ID card could have accessed. Devo's Working in the Coal Mine sprang to mind, so I hummed it. I was feeling completely at ease. Constanza stood behind me, while the other two stood at either side, but half a step back so they were right at the edge of my peripheral vision. I felt like a team player; an interregnal part of my imminent demise. The group marched past the Armory. I waved to my old friend, the Kindergarten Cop. She glowered. Amazons were not martinets. They were clean-cut and proud, but vigilance meant much more than a scuff mark on a boot, or a gaze locked on the farther wall. Our trip deposited in yet another room I could never access. I was the first one through the door. I almost froze. For starters, the room was around 15 meters wide and 6 meters deep. In the center of the room was an 8x2meter table. On the table where a wide variety of firearms and ammunition. Automatic pistols, revolvers, shotguns and submachine guns plus multiple clips, or speed-loaders for them all. They hadn't brought me here to murder me with Death by multiple calibers. If they wanted me dead, they would have blown my brains out already then put a gun in my hand in a hopeless attempt to fool Katrina. The number of guns didn't even impress me. The far wall was transparent and through it I could see multiple ladies in sports bras and boy shorts shooting away on a firing range. Holy Mother of God! I was here for weapons training. What the Hell had gone wrong? As I moved deeper into the room, one SD Femi-Nazi moved down the left wall, the other moved down the right and Constanza remained two steps behind me. "Please clarify my task for this time period, Constanza?" I requested. The look she shot me was lethal. "The weapons present are ones you have stated you have a familiarity with as well as others in common usage here at Havenstone. All the rounds are hollow points, or slugs. Chose which weapons you wish to qualify in, load your clips and inform me when you have completed this part of the assignment." "Thank you," I nodded then set to the task at hand. Constanza clearly had expected me to be a smart ass. I had used learning about guns to get tail. That didn't mean I disrespected the weapons. I picked up several side arms, testing their weight and grips before deciding on the 40 caliber Smith  and  Wesson Glock 22. I felt the ammo, making sure I wouldn't be running around with blanks this time. This shit was real. Elsa had claimed she'd rather be skinned alive than let any man bear weapons in her Havenstone. Maybe I shouldn't have felt her up, or given that massage to that med tech, or stripped in the elevator. I was a really, truly naughty boy. Most women spank naughty boys. My tormentors tend to fuck with my mind because, ya know, it's harder to defend against that crap. Also, there is not a hand lotion made that will soothe the ravaged psyche. I began loading the clips. "Is that the only one you are taking?" Constanza eventually broke down and asked. "I don't want to waste your time," I replied. "This is my favorite pistol. I've shot 22, 38, 9 mm, and 45, but I'm most comfortable with this one. Maybe later I can work with the shotguns. I haven't a clue how to handle anything else." I could see it in her eyes; 'damn him; he's making sense.' There was one final way I could fuck up. I didn't. I knew firearms etiquette. Don't load your gun before taking your station at the range. Sure, all the crazy chicks could do it, but that was part of their jobs; killing things. I was a novice. I picked out some ear protection and an adequate hip holster in case Constanza wanted me to fire from the draw. I was clearly not making her day by not screwing up. "This way," she barked. She accessed the door leading to the range and out we stepped. All around, the firing slowly died. For each of the women, there was a second of disbelief followed by several more seconds of outrage. Lust was where the emotional landslide ended. I was 'That' guy. I wasn't something they could codify. I made meaningful, defiant eye contact, I dressed to impress, and I was known to be courageous. Having Hayden decide that she wanted to mate with me didn't hurt my appeal one bit. I could already tell they were figuring out where to shoot me so that I could still have sex an hour later. I was a man in Havenstone with a gun after all. I was the equivalent of the Pope in Mecca; it just didn't happen. My booth was nice and comfy. After placing my gear on the table, "What do I do next?" "Ear guards; check weapon; load, chamber, announce your preparation to fire; fire as quickly and accurately as possible. Reload and fire until you have uses all rounds," she commanded. Hmm; six meters. Standard human-scored target. I hadn't done this in a year. I shook my limbs out to get ready for the shock and recoil then steadied my breathing. Fifteen rounds, starting at the ready stance. "Ready," I pronounced. "Begin," was Constanza's muffled command. The report of the first shot, the sting of the recoil, the pull on the arm and the shell ejecting; all of those rolled over me before I could count. I almost missed the automatic slide staying open. Down went the old magazine even as my left hand retrieved and leveraged the next one in. A problem presented itself. The girl who first taught me was pretty good; in the 'if you couldn't find the prerequisite number of bullet holes in the target, everyone assumed the missing bullet had passed through one of the previous penetrations' kind of way. I was pretty lucky. She took a red hot poker to me and was thankfully far less accurate. She was so incredibly beautiful; so furious with me, naked and chasing me around a cabin lit solely by the fireplace, with that firebrand in her hand. Maybe it was wrong of me to take her English professor up to the girl's cabin for a sexual rendezvous; or stick the professor in the closet when the poor lady absolutely had go to the bathroom. Or fucked the girl on her bear skin rug until the professor had to come out of said closet before she urinated. I know; I'm an idiot. Fifteen bullets into the first target had made a mess of it. Since there was no one in either station around me, I started shooting at the target to the left. I put the last magazine into the one on the right. It took me well over thirty seconds to get all 45 shots off, but I did it. "Done," I stated as I put the gun down and took a half-step back. "Do you shoot pistols a lot?" one of my other guards asked in amazement. They had undoubtedly seen better speed and marksmanship. It was their cosmically low opinion of me that made my effort so impossible to believe. "No, I'm a Natural Born Killer," I grinned at the three of them. "Males are arrogant and take things for granted. They are sloppy," Constanza sneered. "It never fails to surprise me that you don't accept that your ancestors were some of the toughest bitches to ever walk the planet," I muttered. "What does that mean?" Constanza growled. "Warriors so tough they are remembered thousands of years later and your founders escaped with their lives; as opposed to all those Trojans, Hittites and Lydians who ended up decorating graves with their bones," I glared back. "What I mean is; why does me having a weapon really bother you? I'm am totally out-numbered, out-classed and out-gunned." "I don't want to die. I'm definitely not suicidal. I'll even take bullets, arrows and blades for you people," I snarled. "Quite frankly, all of this paranoia is really starting to get on my nerves, so fucking Cut it out!" "You do not tell us what to do," Constanza ground out. She'd grabbed my chin with one hand. "I'll keep that in mind next time an Amazon's life is in danger and a simply warning from me could save their life. Be assured I'll put your directive down for the reason they croaked," I countered. "If it was up to me, you would be killed for your insolence," she growled. "Does it ever occur to you it is the other way around?" I touched her wrist. "What?" Constanza was both irate and uncertain. "You are where you are because you have a habit of making poor decision on a strategic level," I explained. Apparently I wanted to die. "Why does anyone like you?" Constanza muttered. "Like me? Most people who know me, hate me; like you. The difference is they get to know me first then they hate me. You haven't gotten the full Cáel experience yet. You hate me on a purely generic level. Real hate comes from knowing me," I grinned. Like so much that comes from my lips, that was a lie. To be truthful, most of the women I had wronged over the past four years forgave me; eventually. Most of them figured out that I hadn't cheated on them; I cheated on EVERY girl I was with, but one; my mentor. She was the one who tossed me out among the female population in the first place. Some ladies did hold a grudge. There is one chick who burns me in effigy every year on the date of our break up. I should have known better. It was my freshman year and she was a Psychology teaching assistant. Most psych majors are wacko; more wacko than most pissed of women, I have learned from experience. I'll still date them. I also take more care about what I eat and drink around them too. "I'm glad to know you will be gone soon," she seethed then removed her hand from my chin. "Constanza, you really need to stop trusting me so much," I chuckled. "I don't trust you at all," she countered. "But you are taking my word for it that women hate me," I snickered. "More importantly, you are ignoring the facts. The majority of the women at Havenstone who like me, do so for reasons totally devoid of any intimacy. We both know I can be a jerk. I'm being a jerk right now; to you. What separates us is that I have no doubt that if you were in danger, I would come to your aid. That is the kind of person I am," I related calmly. "That would never happen," Constanza insisted. "I don't care what you think," I shot back. "I don't make decisions based on your whimsy. I follow my leadership. I know I'm loyal. Now, can we please get back to the reason we are all here?" The scoring indicated that I was so lucky that girl came at me with the poker. I missed six shots out of 45, which I thought was awesome. I even managed to badly tear up the chests of the front and left targets. The target on the right was still 'dead', but he could be buried in a tuxedo. I had one head shot; it wasn't on purpose. We went back to the gun room, reloaded my Glock, a 38 Colt and a Mossberg shotgun. One guard went with me while Constanza and the second guard scored my first round. Back in the firing lane, I lost all firearms ability what so ever. I was saved by three shooters who volunteered to help. See how easy that was? They helped me with my stances, reload techniques and argued the merits of hip holster, ankle holsters and shoulder holsters. To reciprocate their hospitality, I stripped off my annoying jacket, tie, shirt and undershirt. We got into a discussion of spent rounds bouncing around and maybe scaring the shooter. For the Amazons, it was training to ignore painful distractions. I stopped; leveled by an epic brainstorm; and fired off an order to Executive Services; care of Daphne. "What are you doing?" one of the new lethality-engines asked, somewhat piqued. "Oh, I have to celebrate Fabiola's resurrection; Hayden's orders; and that is going to require supernatural aids," I replied. I was back on track in their eyes. "What was it like to feel the strength of the Ancestors flow through you?" the second one whispered. This Ancestors and Goddess crap; mysticism was real to them. I've never claimed to be a deity though I've insinuated that I was the blood descendant of the Goddess Ishtar; reference the Wiccan Priestess; and her circle of naked female celebrants. The answer, not a total lie, was pure Amazon. "I didn't feel anything," I could sense their disappointment. "You know, all I felt was the spear and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else mattered. All other burdens and pains were lifted from me so I could devote myself entirely to the task at hand; hold the spear aloft." They ate it up because the 'stillness' was at their core of martial mystique. Bushido had it too except they called it 'No Mind', or something like that. To be honest, I had come by that state of being through sex. My focus narrowed down to my partner and all of her actions and reactions. For a lowly male, like me, to possess that quality must have been divine intervention. "You did a wonderful thing; channeling the Ancestors that way," the third stated. "Oneida is precious to the Host." "I beg to differ," I regarded her with a quirky smirk. "Every life is precious. When you start weighing a person's life before you chose to save it, you have lost much more than that split second; you have lost a piece of your soul." Oh look. I was lecturing them and they didn't like it. "Try looking at it from my viewpoint for a second," I knew they couldn't. "I'm a lowly male caught up in your fiendish experiment. I don't know who any of you are beyond the reality that you would casually harm, or even kill me for any number of reasons." "You clearly think I should cower and cow-tow to your whims and wishes," I took in their negative reactions. "I'm not. That's not me. Instead, I'm going to run errands, learn to fight, laugh, play and have a great time. If it matters; I know it doesn't to you; I am Cáel Nyilas, son of Ferko, son of Árpád of the Magyar. 'Where there is Valor, there is Hope'," I added. That wasn't my family motto. We were from poor, immigrant stock. My grandparents spoke Hungarian. I knew a little of it, just not enough to be considered fluent. I knew some Vlach (Romanian) too. When your neighbors are screaming insults at you, it pays to know exactly what they are saying. Again, I'm not fluent in Vlach, but I could get in a bar fight over what I did know. "Your lineage is inconsequential," Constanza snapped. She'd come back; yippee! "How did I do, Jefe?" I beamed happiness her way. "I hate you," she said through clenched teeth. I must have done better than I thought. "Well, that's good. Maybe, under your instruction, I'll almost be a match for the other fine ladies down here one day in the distant future," I nodded happily. "That your heart still beats is an insult to everything I stand for," Constanza spat. "I'm cool with that in the same way I'm cool ignoring this whole 'blood prestige' thing. You gals aren't respecting mine and you certainly aren't explaining your rules to me, so I'm opting out of this whole 'my old lady was better at dodging arrows than yours'." "You should not insult us this way," my closet, newest gun-buddy cautioned me. "I agree. Do you even know who the Magyar are?" I inquired. "No," she shrugged. "Go find out and then we can talk," I grinned. "Until then, you are disrespecting the aim of a sniper you don't even know exists yet is stalking you." As they were struggling to figure that out, I groaned. "You are insulting my people without knowledge of who they are. You are asking me to show respect to your people without explaining to me why. I'm sure they were wonderful, fucking women, but I don't know anything about them," I related. "If you want blind obedience, go have fun with sterility," I smirked. "I've got better and more far-sighted women I'd rather be with." "Most likely you will be milked of your seed, joined with our eggs thus creating the next generation of the host," the third girl got all riled-up. Sex. "Man," I laughed. "Am I the only one here to have figured out that I, and the other new male hires, aren't the only ones being tested? Really? Come on. If Katrina wanted to train me to use a gun, she could have sent me with Desiree to a private gun range and handled this stuff off-site. No. She had to put me here; with all of you." All those smug, superior, horny chicks just realized they'd taken a philosophical snap-kick to the cranium. Tested? Amazons were tested all the fucking time. It was their culture to keep them fit, firm and alert. Best of all, the male had to be the one to bring this to their attention. I wrapped my arm around the waist of the closest Amazon and pulled her groin to my hip. "That's okay though. I'm in this for all of you," I murmured while looking deep into her eyes; as if we were the only two people in the world. "With your aid, I think we can do this; make it work. Don't you?" She nodded. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Shotguns, pistol-grip shotguns and an MP-5 joined my list of weapons I knew the basics of afterwards. Once more, I was rendered even more attractive by the fact that I could hit a man-sized target at 6 meters with a gun I had only then picked up. I had been joking about the whole 'natural born killer' comeback. I wasn't convinced that my ancestor's ability to fight all their neighbors, sometimes all at the same time, made me kick-ass. Frankly, my people had lost wars to every European empire of the middle ages and modern times. You just couldn't keep us down. Maybe resistance was genetically based. That was crazy talk; but Grandpa was a tough SOB, as was my Dad, now that I thought about it. Gramps Old Man died fighting the Russians in world war two, which was why he fled his homeland as a child. Mom's people; they were Irish; the Irish, when not fighting for their own homeland, were fighting for some else's. Mom didn't get the time to teach me much, but I do recall this: The greatest lie the Irish ever tell is that they only hate the English. The Irish hate anyone they can get their hands on, even other Irish. If you don't believe that, look at every ethnic neighborhood in the US that border an Irish enclave. They fight with them all. I got my twisted sense of humor from my Mom. I miss her so. Knowing Mom, she wouldn't be ashamed of my infidelities. She'd probably say 'he's test-driving until he finds the one that can keep him in line'. I hoped she wouldn't be ashamed of me. My time was up. I had to go to Katrina's office. Constanza banished me with a grumpy face and a dismissive wave of the hand. The chick I had put on my hip volunteered/elbowed her way to showing me out. My ID card wouldn't open any stairwell, or elevator. She felt comfortable walking around in her underwear, plus a shoulder holstered 10 mm. Ten steps out, from her left, I snaked my hand around her back to her right hip. She looked to me and smiled. "Can you give me some advice?" I inquired. "I'll try," she hedged. "Well, you are clearly in excellent physical condition. I've been trying to put together a regimen that will get my left thigh in shape," I started. She nodded. "I've a quadriceps exercise in mind, but I'm unsure about one for the gluts," I mused. She looked uncertain. I moved my hand off her hip, over to her left hand then placed her hand force on my left ass. We were now really close. "I'm afraid of losing my muscle tone. Can you help?" "Umm;” she hesitated. "I could think of a few things." She worked herself up to giving my ass a good squeeze. This was not the first male ass she'd handled yet it was most likely the firmest and most sexually promising one she'd felt. Promising something she couldn't quite envision but felt deep within her loins. She dispensed advice. I nodded appreciatively. When I asked for some kind of confirmation, she kindly put my hand on her ass which I promptly began squeezing. Like shooting fish in a barrel. We were comparing stomach and shoulder techniques on the elevator. Her name was Naomi and she was with the Security Detail and a member of House Rajah; ally of House Arinniti. Sweet! Like clockwork, Brielle and her buddy joined me in the elevator on the ground floor. They had to know somebody to track me this well. Me shirtless with an Amazon in her undies. It must be Monday morning. "This is new," Brielle commented. "Good morning, Naomi. Forget something?" "I'm on the job," Naomi retorted. It was the whole 'going without clothes' thing. "Are you protecting a bare-chested Cáel from us, or us from a bare-chested Cáel?" her companion joked. Naomi's mouth opened then shut. "I cannot talk about it. Neither one of us can," Naomi declared with authority. "That's right, Ladies," I nodded. "What happens in the laundry room, stays in the laundry room." All those who felt I'd gone to the laundry room, raise your hands. No takers. "I smell gunpowder residue," Brielle commented after she took a close whiff. "The Dominicans, Latin Kings, and the Redneck Posse have all started fighting over that little block of paradise I call home," I sighed regretfully. Silence. "Redneck Posse? That's not one I've heard of before," Naomi commented. Here we go! "Oh yeah," I looked contemplative. "Ten years ago, several linguists studying Appalachian dialects paid for some native speakers to come to the city to help in their research. The hillbillies got paid, got jobs and brought their families down." "When the grant money for the study ran out, the bumpkins had to find another way to support their kin that their minimum wage jobs couldn't providing. Enter the Redneck Posse. Guns, meth, moonshine; they do it all. They are kind of like Afghan tribesmen except instead of being half a world away by sea, or air, they are a four, or five, hour drive down the interstate," I concluded. The three women exchanged confused looks. The doors opened on my floor. "Oh my Goddess!" Brielle exclaimed. "That's almost possible to believe." I winked and left. "You mean that was a lie too?" Naomi gasped. The doors shut on that conversation as I swept through the office. I had 90 seconds to spare. Only Dora wasn't here yet, but there was a pile of boxes on my desk. They were all looking at me as if I'd just stepped out of a pool, or a French cologne commercial. I set my clothing and valise on my tiny, now over-stacked, desk then joined the line-up. "Good morning Cáel," Katrina looked me up and down. "I certainly hope it will be. Good morning to you too, Katrina," I beamed. Pause. "Forgetting something?" Katrina prodded. I sniffed the air. I didn't sense it. "Yes Ma'am, Katrina. I'm missing one thing. I hope it gets here soon," I confirmed. Pause. "Very well, let's get started," Katrina began. Fabiola lost it. "What! He doesn't have a shirt, tie, or jacket on. As far as we know, he's not even wearing underwear," she screeched. "Cáel, is your attire, or lack thereof, necessary for the performance of your duties?" Katrina politely inquired. "Yes it is Katrina," I nodded. "Very well;” Katrina started over. "What possible reason could you have for being half dressed," Fabiola ranted. "Are you going to cover yourself with oil and slither down the stairs like the snake you are?" No one said anything for a while. The rest of the 'new hires' were coming around to the fact that Katrina and I were mocking Fabiola. Otherwise, Katrina would have shut her down. I held up my hand. "Yes Cáel," Katrina acknowledged me, "despite the meeting having already begun and not being directly addressed by me, you may speak." Slap! "Fabiola, I find your desire to see me oiled up a bit perplexing," I grinned in her direction. "I would like to point out, despite the evidence you have presented today, I am not an idiot and our boss; Katrina; is not a fool. Hate me to your heart's content, but don't insult Katrina by thinking she doesn't already know what I'm up to." "She does not explain herself to me, or you, and I'm pretty sure even Hayden gets an edited view of what goes on here in Executive Services. I don't know and I don't care. That's not in my job description and I'm already way out of bounds as it is," I said. "For your sake and your sake alone, I will tell you why I'm am dressed the way I am today." "It is part of your ritual apology," Violet blurted. "It's obvious. This has to do with what Hayden told him to do." That wasn't truly fair to Fabiola. The rest of the ladies had been rushing around getting the items I decided I needed for my public apology. Dora came bolting in right then. "I'm sorry I'm late, Katrina," she panted. "Did I miss anything?" "No," Katrina returned events to their proper order. "First off, for today, I'll start with Cáel's work review for Friday. I never thought I would say this about his on-the-clock performance. Cáel, your work output on Friday was stellar. There, I said it. Next; " That would have been a far greater treasure had that been my work report instead of Aya's. Everyone else did well, save Tigger. She had forgotten a security sequence and had half a floor locked down for 15 minutes. At the conclusion, Buffy came in, slammed a flimsy, but aromatic, box into my chest then stormed away. "Cáel?" Katrina questioned. "Yes. Thank you," I then turned to Fabiola. "Do you wish to have the ceremony here, or out on the main floor of Executive Services?" "I; what are you going to do?" Fabiola grew suspicious. "This is a trick to make me look foolish again." "Fabiola, it is Hayden's wish you hear him out," Paula spoke. "He's troublesome, not stupid. I don't think he's stupid enough to defy Hayden on this." "Swear to me you are not going to make me look bad," Fabiola stared at me. "What do I possess that you believe is valuable?" I countered. She had to think about that. It couldn't be Aya. Fabiola was stumped. She had been so busy looking down her fine Roman nose at me, she had neglected to notice everything I had done and said. "Your mentor," Daphne offered. "She has forbidden me to see her again, but thank you," I winked at Daphne. A quick list of less than helpful suggestions followed. It turned out the only thing I valued was my freedom and I couldn't give that up to Fabiola because that decision lay with Katrina. I would rather defy Hayden than give up sex, I lied continuously for little, or no reason. Fabiola wasn't looking for Lent, she wanted something concrete. It simply didn't exist. Out we went with a very distraught Fabiola and me with a bunch of small boxes. I didn't worry about expensing all this crap. I wasn't spending my own money anyway. I had Fabiola stand in the largest open area ES had. Even people who only had business on this floor were joining the growing body of my co-workers here to witness the spectacle. Three small brass bowels and one small oil lamp went to the four compass points; I even had a compass. I put sand in one, water in another and dry ice in the third. I lit the lamp. "This symbols me calling the four corners of Terra to bear witness: Earth, Air, Fire and Water," I explained. Next I wrote down Fabiola's name on a slip of paper in Old Kingdom Hittite. I burned it. Fabiola frowned. She was the only one. I dropped the ashes into a glass of water. "With this, I take back my curse. I swallow it, thus swallowing my words," I explained to Fabiola. I drank the whole thing. That accomplished, I pulled a small silver owl out of an unopened box to a series of murmurs. "This is a gift to your house. Minerva (the Roman Athena) is your patron Goddess. I do honor to her for bringing you back." I handed her the owl. Her expression told me she was still waiting for the trap to be sprung on her. I wrote out my name, in Magyar then held it up to Fabiola. "This is my name, Cáel Nyilas, in my native tongue," I told her. I burned it, ground up the ashes with my fingers. With a little bit of coordinated effort, I drew the word 'forgiveness' in Old Kingdom Hittite over my heart. The last box. It was Dobos Tortas, a sweet treat from my native land; Hungary, not Chicago. "Please accept this gift as a symbol of my apology and my desire to seek your forgiveness," I looked into Fabiola's eyes. The weight came crushing down on her. Virtually all the women around her wanted me to be forgiven. Not because they hated her. Most barely knew her; or me. It was the ceremony. Simple, relatively quick yet individualized by the giving of gifts designed for each participant. Deep in her twisted little soul, Fabiola still expected a trap, trick, or joke at her expense. She probably thought the 'cookies' were poisoned. "I forgive you," Fabiola stated. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Share a treat with me." I even let her pick out the one to stick in my mouth. Maybe she thought I had the antidote, or maybe she decided I was on the up-and-up. The crowd of Amazons made happy, communal noises and we all parted as friends; okay, friends and their dancing bear; me. Katrina snuck up on me as a handful of woman thanked me for the insightful ceremony. I told them they were welcome while neglecting to inform them that I made all of that up. Part of it was Wiccan. Part was some 1960's Italian movie I'd seen. A few things I pulled out of my ass, like normal. "Put on your clothes," Katrina handed me my things. "You did well. I am sure Hayden will be equally pleased." "No problem," I looked at her appreciatively. I felt a cerebral connection evolving between us. "Put on your shirt before I start licking your nipples," Katrina demanded. Damn it. Wait, things got better. As I looked away from Katrina and started getting dressed, Buffy appeared before me. I bet I could have melted an ice cap with the head of steam she'd built up. "Do you like dressing as a male stripper? Do you like women drooling all over you?" Buffy sizzled. "No; yes," I responded. "I hate you," she snapped. "I admire the fact that you can pull off the lead in Madame Butterfly," I bantered back. "Let's get to work," Buffy growled. Off we went. (Elsa Round Three) "Hello Stanica," Buffy greeted the SD guard at the gym facility door. That was new. Normally it was a card-swipe and in you went. Buffy and I were dressed for a workout; per orders. "Full-bloods only," Stanica stopped Buffy. Ah, racism was raising its ugly head. "How am I supposed to get in?" I countered. This appointment was in our queue for 11 a.m. "You have been summoned," Stanica clarified. "Cool; I'll be back in 70 days. Good job Chuckles," I grinned. "You have been summoned," she threatened with a great deal more menace. "He works for me today," Buffy yawned. "That means he goes where I go. Cáel doesn't have a queue today, I do. He's my intern. If you won't let me in, then he doesn't go in. Let's go Cáel." Stanica grabbed my arm. "He goes in. You stay," she insisted. "Cáel; resist," Buffy ordered. To Stanica, "Knock yourself out." Stanica briefly tried to move me. Then she went for some kind of control-hold/lock. Brazilian jujitsu, Baby. It is not some kind of 'super' martial art. As far as I knew, none of them were. If you were trying to break, or establish physical control over another person, it was pretty spectacular though. Along with the Amazon 'house' style, she knew something akin to Krav Maga. Stanica was hampered by her unwillingness to do me serious harm, as was I toward her. The difference was, all I had to do was stay in the hallway, while Stanica had to get me through the doors. The stalemate was broken by two fresh full-bloods coming from the changing room to the facilities. "Sisters, assist me," Stanica called out. "Help me wrestle him to the ground without undo damage." They came forward and jumped me. "Are you on official Havenstone business?" Buffy politely inquired as they dog piled on me. "Shut up," Stanica yelled. "Failing to adequately explain the situation," Buffy quick drew her pistol and pressed it to the temple of one of the two new Amazons, "informs me you are willingly interfering in official Executive Services business." "By all means, give me an excuse to file an incident report," Buffy grinned feral. "Do it and you die, 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite)," the threatened woman responded. "Boss, may I suggest an alternative?" I ground up. They had me pressed down in the hall. "I'm willing to accept you were hired for your intelligence," Buffy allowed. "Trust me. I got this," I snickered. Buffy didn't trust me, yet she knew my tone well. Buffy holstered her weapon and stood back. "This isn't over, Buffy," the Amazon she'd pulled down on snapped. "Go for it," Buffy chuckled. "You are running off with Katrina's male. I was trying to assert her rights and you have defied her. I gleefully await her judgment." The woman snarled then grunted as my three captures pulled me up. Buffy was on her phone, typing away a text when the women realized my feet weren't planted under me. I started to topple over. "Stand up, damn you," Stanica demanded. I looked to Buffy for confirmation of that order. She smiled while indicating nothing. "Stand up," the third Amazon insisted. She backed that up with a jab to my left kidney. Damn, this place was hellishly unlucky for the left side of my body. That did not encourage me to stand. "Fine, we'll drag him in," Stanica changed up. I didn't resist one bit. I acted like dead weight. This scene was made all the more precious by the audience Elsa had gathered for whatever exhibition she had planned for me. The whole sparring area was surrounded by Amazons clearly waiting on me. Most were cross-legged though a few knelt behind the first rank. I could see Elsa, spear in hand, watching those three lugging me in from her position in the Southwest corner of the mats. "What's wrong with him?" Elsa inquired calmly. "He is afraid," Stanica answered. I would have replied, but I knew silence would be far more cutting. See; everyone expect me to have a comeback. My quiet unsettled them. The three unceremoniously dumped me next to the Northeast corner. I lay there. I had noticed two axes about a meter in on the mat. I pulled myself into a position where my ass was resting on my heels. "My Sisters," Elsa began. "There has been some interest in Cáel's two-axe style as well as various theories on how to defeat it. Today, I will display the long spear technique's ability to overcome this problem." "Cáel, pick up the axes and prepare yourself. I will wait until you indicate your readiness," Elsa nodded my way. Very friendly. I looked around a bit, rather bored. "Cáel?" she repeated. I looked at Elsa. "Oh, were you under some delusion that you could tell me what to do, Elsa?" I replied. There was a hush for so many reasons. Elsa being denied, a man denying anything to any of them, and my cavalier, even dismissive attitude toward the Full-blooded assembly. "Under what delusion do you think you can safely defy me?" Elsa smiled shark-like. "Hmmm," I mused, "let me think. You are not Hayden, Katrina, or Buffy; my chain of command. You are not Aya, who I love. You are not acting in my best interest as it relates to Havenstone. Yeah, that should about cover it." "I am a woman of Havenstone and I am giving you, a male, an order. There is no acceptable reason to disobey," Elsa countered. "You are incorrect," I began. The ladies around me didn't like that. "I cannot betray my Amazons. You do not possess the power to force me to disappoint them." "Your Amazons?" A chocolate Amazon with a shaved pate jumped up. "We are not 'yours', filth." "Were you born stupid, or has education made you that way?" I spat back. An ass-whooping was in the offing. "If you came at Hayden, or Katrina, do you think I'd sit idly by and let them fight alone?" I kept at it, though I remained kneeling. "If you threaten any member of Executive Services, or House Epona, make peace with your Ancestors because I will fight, bleed and die for MY Amazons. I've already proved that oath. Your opinion on the matter is less than rat-piss to me." I'm sure arrogance has a use. I haven't found one yet, but I don't ignore the possibility. Chocolate chick grabbed for my hair, ready to slit my throat the moment she tilted my head back. This would have been appropriate if I was one of their old male population. Only total arrogance had kept her from actually listening to the words of defiance coming out of my mouth. I caught her hand, flipped her over and drove the top of her skull into the mat. That shoots a numbing jolt right up the spine, I can tell you from experience. I snatched the knife from her helpless fingers as she finished flipping over, her head closest to me then pressed the blade to her jugular. "Not a single person in this room matters to me. The only person that should matter to you, is me," I stated calmly and quietly. "That being the case, chose your next words carefully and with due consideration of everything I've said before this moment." I was going to die if I killed her. That wouldn't save her life from her own, small, razor-sharp blade. Almost a minute passed. "Cáel, give me my blade," she replied in a rather brave voice. I pulled my hand up, spun the blade around and pressed it into her palm. She slowly sat up and swiveled around until we were face to face, her cross-legged and me, back to my kneeling pose. Her eyes were ice cold. "I was never in any danger, was I?" the woman half-asked, half stated. "Of course not. I would never shame Katrina that way. I'd kill for her. Killing an Amazon to save my own life would not be something she'd allow," I explained as much to the room as the woman. "Don't lie," another Amazon teased me; thankfully. It was Traska Maza; from the Medical Center. "I heard you murdered an Amazon on Friday; end of business." "Yep," I confessed. "Hayden has admonished me from repeating that method of assassination. I swear that if Fabiola keeps calling 'Runners' 'Lost Bloods', I'm going to figure out another way to get her." "The term 'Lost Blood' is the term we use. Accept it, Male," Stanica growled. I had to think about that. I stood up, so I had a good view of the SD bitch. I also had to work up the proper insult. Anything I directed at Stanica would be useless. I knew their weakness though. "Hey," I addressed my African opponent. "Stanica's mother mated with her own paternal male to give birth to Stanica. I read it in an inner-office e-mail." Total lie, but the 'lie' wasn't mine. It was from an unnamed Amazon and it insulted her bloodline, something she truly valued. I glared at Stanica. "That is why it is insulting. In a blood-conscious culture, you are rubbing their noses in a fact beyond their control." "I agree," Oneida spoke up. "'Lost Bloods' is insulting. I had never questioned that before. 'Runners is a better term. I will ask my house to use it from now on." "That's not going to save him," Stanica seethed. "Do you want to know where the memo came from?" I inquired of Stanica. "There is no memo," Stanica snapped. I shrugged. "Why would I make it up? Such a deadly insult?" I pressed the point. Oh, I had made it up because I hate bigotry, especially when it is aimed at someone who was almost a friend. "Who?" she glared. "I don't know, but I know who does," I offered. "She's right outside that door," I pointed to the main entrance. Now, do people recall that divide I was talking about way back in Chapter Two? It worked both ways. Full-bloods were aware of the oppression they exerted on their 'Lost Blood/Runner' sisters. Creeping around in the back of some of their minds was the worry that those newcomers resented their superiors. Had the two groups been truly united, Stanica wouldn't have given my bluff a second glance. Here was the backlash of being a bigot; the idea that those you hated, hating you right back. In short order, Buffy was by my side and listening to Stanica's grievance. Finally we were speaking English again. "Man, Desiree is going to be so sorry she missed this," Buffy looked down at me. I was kneeling again so she was able to appear lofty and run her hand through my hair the way she liked to do when she was extra horny for me. I also liked the way her boobs nearly obscured her face from my view. Very nice tits. "Stanica, he lied to you," Buffy revealed. "I knew it! Stand aside, I'm going to gut the little shit," Stanica started to come at me. "No you don't," Buffy interposed herself. "See, Cáel was following his instructions and he used your idiocy against you, Dumbass," she gloated to Stanica. "He was ordered to serve at my side today, so that is what he did. Who in the right mind would commit anything about blood prestige to an office e-mail anyway? It wasn't even up to his normally superb level of deception." "Then he should be punished for lying to me," Stanica seethed. "I told him to," Buffy wasn't even lying. She'd approved my plan the moment she agreed to 'trust me'. "When?" Elsa requested. She was coming our way. Buffy looked over her shoulder. "Funny, you don't look like Katrina, Elsa," Buffy guffawed. "Make an official request through the proper channels. You don't get to tell me what to do." "Do we need to clarify our positions?" Elsa menaced. I jumped up and took up a boxing stance. With Stanica on one side, Elsa on the other and the preference of Amazons to gang up on opponents, I had to have her back. "Kneel," Buffy tapped my shoulder. I knelt. "Honestly Elsa, Cáel fucked me so hard and long this weekend that even your pettiness doesn't annoy me today. Now, why are we here?" "He's not allowed to have sex," Traska seemed a bit distressed. Me having sex outside the office had never occurred to her apparently. "Strangely, I have all of you to thank for that," Buffy smugly regarded the room. "While you let Constanza and Crewe ambush him then sat back uselessly while he kicked both their asses, gazed on as he refused to take advantage of Constanza once she was clearly incapable of resisting and let her put a blade to his throat, he found a way to legally sleep with me." "Afraid? With a blade to his throat, he couldn't care less about any of you," Buffy regaled them. "Oh, we know you don't care what he thinks; or what I think. Well, welcome to the world you've created. I don't care what you think. Blood Prestige? I'll only give as much respect as I'm given. I am embarrassed I ever thought any of you were better than me." "My prestige is that I volunteered for this lifestyle. I made a choice that no one else in this room ever had the courage to make; to abandon my old life for another, unknown one. From here on out, I'm going to be like Cáel. One of you bitches puts a hand on me, be ready to back it up," Buffy challenged them. Not the best move as far as I could tell. "Be prepared to be put in your place," Elsa grinned. "Go right ahead. Don't get too worked up. There are around a hundred of my fellow; 'Runners' at the door," Buffy smirked. "It is best to end this rebellion right now," the chocolate opponent stood up. "Over what?" I looked up. I hated Buffy making me kneel. "The 'Runners' are doing the exact same tasks you are doing. They want to be awarded respect for that." "This is not your place," the woman stated to me. As an afterthought. "Ngozi." "Thank you," I acknowledged her consideration of giving me her name. "Ha," Buffy snorted. "Oh; rebellion? Let's just say when we realized that (dead word) meant Lost Bloods, we were; unhappy. All this weekend, this petty insult had been spreading out to all our non-Full-blood sisters. Actually, we have come up with two alternatives. One was to approach Hayden with our grievance." "The other was to start calling the rest of you (dead word) (which meant 'Poison Bloods')," Buffy stared down the festering crowd. "After all, we are all fertile and the few children we have been allowed to have are born without defect." Amazons don't threaten often. Normally they simply go straight to the punishment. I was somewhat of an exception for reasons that somehow alluded me. I tried to stand again, but Buffy pushed me back down. Pain was imminent then the muttering began. Around us, small clumps of Full-bloods began pushing for space. That could only mean they were getting ready to fight and since they weren't close to us, they were getting ready to fight their own sisters. I doubted they were enamored with me, or the 'Runner' cause. This was a common sense reaction. They recognized a no-win contest when they saw it. 'Runners' were demanding respect; same recognition for taking the same risks. They weren't even asking for admission into the 'Host'; the true Amazons and their House structure. The tipping points in this protest had been Fabiola and the loyalist opposition led by Helena, the only 'Runner' close enough to my struggle Friday afternoon that could have started it. Remember, the Old Kingdom Hittite language was a closely guarded secret. So secret that Buffy, despite her years of loyal service, hadn't been taught it. There had been decades of small slights that led to this. It wasn't me, except for the definition thing. Fabiola was hardly an aberration. The other female 'new hires' were more the exception than the rule. That was probably why Katrina had chosen them. In her profession; internal and external security; creative thinking and flexibility were as important as blood lines. "Excuse me," a soft voice penetrated the chaos. The noise died down. Tessa Carmichael moved through the crowd to the mat. "Oh, by the Seven Sister Goddesses, of course Cáel Nyilas is here." Then, in English, "Buffy, pardon me but I think this needs my attention." See, a good ass-reaming is done in a target's native language. Tessa went back to Old Kingdom Hittite. "Why are there a 150 sisters outside in the hall milling around?" Tessa began. She held up her hand to truncate the various responses. "Why does it look like you are all preparing for a general melee? Lastly, why are Buffy and Cáel even here? You would think that after his last episode, he'd be avoiding this place." "The 'Lost Bloods' outside are part of a rebellion of their kind, a few of our sisters don't appreciate the threat this poses and; Cáel is here because Elsa invited him here," Ngozi explained. "I'm not exactly sure why Buffy is here?" "Cáel, have you inflicted this building with a histrionic-inducing vapor?" Tessa looked at me with exasperation. I blinked. I had to recall what 'histrionic' meant then I knew what to do. I held up my hand in front of my face, exhaling into it to see if something was 'bad' with my breath. Next, I sniffed my underarms. Lastly, I peeked down my tight shorts to make sure that wasn't the cause. "Nope," I reassured Tessa, "I'm good. I mean, I've been good; this time." "Will miracles never cease," Tessa muttered. The comedy was bleeding the tension and hostility from the room. "Let me try this again. Since top down doesn't work, let's start in the dirt beneath the basement. Cáel, what is going on?" "Okay; give me a second to make this sound reasonable and convincing," I furrowed my brow. "For starters, Buffy and me were working the queue which currently indicated that I was to come here and participate with Elsa in a weapons exhibition," I began. "Buffy became confused by the flickering ceiling lights so I persevered alone. While we waited, Elsa and I engaged in a discussion of corporate etiquette." "The conversation migrated into matters of close combat techniques and mat thickness, which Ngozi assisted with. Clearly satisfied that we were all becoming fast friends, the discussion traveled to Old Kingdom Hittite terminology, background and the ambiguity of some definitions," I continued my literary conjurations. "Buffy discovered she hadn't made me her bitch in the past ten minutes, so hunted me down to this place," I grinned at Buffy. "Since Buffy was hankering for a bit of cuddle time, we were wrapping up the matter of 'Lost Bloods' only being used by total Prom Queen Wannabes while 'Runners' was growing in popularity because it was a word actually used at your people's genesis." Pause. "Was any bit of that the truth?" Tessa looked to Elsa and Ngozi. "No," they both responded. "But, it makes the mess that happened sound far better than the reality," Ngozi added. "That I will agree with," Elsa said. "Buffy," Tessa addressed my boss in English, "the Council will discuss this matter of terminology at the next meeting. Have our sisters outside disperse." "Yes Tessa," Buffy nodded then weaved her way to the entrance. Tessa walked up, patted me on the head as she shook hers. "We really should poison, strangle, stab, shoot and finally throw you off the highest available peak," she smiled warmly at me; psycho. "If you added 'rolling me in a carpet and tossing me in a frozen river' we could call it 'pulling a Rasputin," I grinned back. "I love you," she looked all affectionate. I wanted to cry on the inside; and the outside. "Damn! Now you tell me," I grumbled. "I sent away for a mail-order bride from the Ukraine on Sunday and you know there is no money-back guarantee." "You are enchanting," she chuckled. I wanted to die. "You'll get used to us, I promise." Yes, the head of Human Resources could read my mind. "Tessa, before I get back to Elsa demolishing me, can I ask you something?" I inquired. "Yes." "During that last interview process, you were seriously throwing out the 'let's do it on the table' vibe, weren't you?" I posed. "Very much so," she beamed utter joy. "I was truly impressed that, with your history with woman, you constrained yourself." "If I had come on to you, would I have lost this job opportunity?" I asked. "Oh Goddess no," Tessa laughed. "Someday I should let you read the sheaves and sheaves of transcripts our investigators gathered on your sexual exploits." "That's why you've never encountered anyone from Human Resources in the building. They are forbidden to be alone, or only in the company of other Human Resources employees, with you out of fear they'd rape you," Tessa informed me. "Is he really that good?" Traska asked. "His college years don't read as a triple X rated movie; they read as top shelf erotic fiction," Tessa enlightened the masses. "Oh, Cáel, the nun hopes you're are still seeking spiritual fulfillment." "Cool. How is she doing?" I responded. "She's in Uganda, working at a Catholic school for war orphans," Tessa answered. "You slept with a nun?" Oneida gulped. "Oneida, if there was no intern program, and this wasn't an Evil Empire, I'd never leave this place. I'd move my bed into a spare room, set up a mini-bar and spend every second off the clock seducing each and every one of you," I stated. Even the ones who didn't terribly like me chuckled, snorted, or laughed. "To answer your question: sort of Oneida. I slept with a woman who was about to take Holy Vows, not truly a nun," I confessed. "I've slept with a Wiccan Priestess too, if that matters." "Why do you think you can treat us like those lesser women?" Ngozi looked angry. "You have tits, a vagina, are straight, or bisexual, and between the ages of 18 to 70," I shot right back. "I have no desire to sleep with men, or lesbians. Outside of that, given somewhere between five minutes and five days, I could nail every women in this room. It is not that I'm better than any of you." "I can do it because you all are hopelessly arrogant, thus unable to put forth an effective defense because you don't believe I can seduce you. Add to that, I can figure out what you want in an erotic encounter. End of story," I sighed. "Frankly, having lived lives devoid of romance, you Full-bloods are too easy." I could see Tessa smirking. Not only had I seduced all kinds of women, apparently all of them had been willing to relate those encounters. I'm a great lover and a lousy boyfriend. "We would never submit to your predations," yet another Amazon jumped in. Sex. I told them, they are simply too easy; except Katrina, Tessa and Hayden. They were scary. I'd still sleep with them because I had no common sense. "Hey Lady, if you want to be on top, I'm okay with that," I smiled disarmingly. Plant the idea of erotic positions early. It can be as easy as pushing up against a girl from behind, or a hug. "If I ever consented to have sex with you, you would do what I said," she persisted. "That sounds like fun; 70 more days and its Hunting Season," I winked. I repeat,

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