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Brooklyn/ Botswana/Ariège x Paris/Londres/Kingston, à vos marques ! Notre 1ère invitée est l'artiste américaine Natalia M. King pour la sortie de son 8ème album Afroblues. Natalia M. King est une chanteuse, compositrice et guitariste américaine qui fusionne blues, jazz, soul et folk. Voix puissante du blues et du jazz modernes, elle captive par ses interprétations émouvantes. En 2025, elle franchit une nouvelle étape avec AfroBlues, un album mêlant pop dansante, afrobeat et sonorités blues. Son premier extrait, «Dumela», rend hommage à son voyage au Botswana, à sa terre rouge et à son peuple, capturant la beauté et la sagesse de ce lieu à travers sa musique. AfroBlues sera une fusion audacieuse des genres, réunissant les rythmes contagieux de l'afrobeat, des éléments de danse électronique et le soupçon de blues qui a défini sa carrière. Ce virage musical représente l'évolution continue de Natalia M. King en tant qu'artiste ne craignant pas d'expérimenter de nouveaux sons et styles. L'album est une exploration du rythme, de l'énergie et de la fusion culturelle, autour des thèmes de l'autonomisation, de la joie et de la résilience qui sont au cœur de l'album. Grâce à sa capacité à mélanger divers éléments musicaux, AfroBlues promet d'être un ajout unique et passionnant à sa discographie. À propos du premier single «Dumela» : Il existe un petit «Royaume-Uni» qui borde l'Afrique du Sud de Nelson Mandela. Une merveilleuse opportunité, par le biais de l'amour, m'y a transportée au printemps 2024 dans le merveilleux pays africain du Botswana. Les paysages, les odeurs et les sons m'ont rappelé des souvenirs oubliés. «Dumela», qui signifie bonjour en setswana (ou tswana), est mon hommage à cette mémoire oubliée et aux belles âmes que j'ai rencontrées là-bas. Je remercie les pluies et la terre rouge qui m'ont inspirée... Dumela Botswana ! Dumela Afrique ! Merci pour votre sagesse et nous nous reverrons. Natalia M. King Titres interprétés au grand studio - Dumela Live RFI - Lost & Everywhere, extrait de l'album - I Love A Woman Live RFI. Line Up : Natalia M. King (voix, guitare), Vince Laurent (batterie) & Damien Argentieri (claviers & moog). Son : Mathias Taylor & Jérémie Besset ► Album AfroBlues (Natalia M. King / Modulor 2025). Instagram - Facebook - YouTube. Puis nous recevons l'artiste britannique ALA.NI pour la sortie de Sunshine Music Lorsque ALA.NI a commencé à écrire Sunshine Music, son troisième album, l'hiver parisien de 2023 battait son plein, avec un froid mordant. Composant sous des couches de couettes dans son appartement de l'Opéra, elle puisait sa chaleur non pas dans son environnement, mais dans les souvenirs du soleil des Caraïbes qu'elle venait de quitter. Ce qui devait être un voyage de deux semaines en décembre 2020 s'est transformé en deux ans et demi entre la Barbade, la Grenade — où ses parents avaient grandi — puis la Jamaïque, un long séjour qui lui a offert un nouveau sentiment d'identité. «Vivre en Jamaïque, c'était la première fois que j'habitais dans un pays à majorité noire», dit-elle. «Les Jamaïcains sont très eux-mêmes, sans s'excuser. J'ai choisi de vivre à Paris, et je me sens plus moi-même, plus expressive et plus à l'aise ici qu'à Londres, et davantage appréciée et reconnue en tant qu'artiste aussi. Mais il y a des microagressions et des microracismes auxquels nous devons faire face chaque jour en tant que personnes de couleur. Quand je suis sortie de cet environnement, je me suis dit : «Merde, c'est ça que je gérais tout ce temps.» J'avançais simplement en acceptant certains comportements négatifs comme un acte de survie mentale.» En Jamaïque, elle a collaboré avec Sly Dunbar, l'un des batteurs légendaires de l'île, le sortant presque de sa retraite pour une session improvisée. Sunshine Music vibre du souvenir de cette chaleur : une tapisserie d'influences mêlant calypso, jazz, bossa nova et le grand répertoire d'après-guerre, le tout tissé par la voix et la sensibilité singulières d'ALA.NI. Tout au long de l'album, des styles familiers sont honorés sans pastiche : la langueur du reggae, le souffle d'un rythme bossa nova, la diction nette du théâtre musical. Titres interprétés au grand studio - Seaweed Live RFI - Tief, extrait de l'album - This is Why Live RFI. RFI Vidéos YT Line Up : Alani (chant), Thomas Naïm (guitare) Son : Mathias Taylor, Benoît Letirant ► Album Sunshine Music (No Format 2025). Instagram - Bandcamp - YT Concert 9 février 2026, Théâtre Athénée Louis Jouvet, Paris.
Brooklyn/ Botswana/Ariège x Paris/Londres/Kingston, à vos marques ! Notre 1ère invitée est l'artiste américaine Natalia M. King pour la sortie de son 8ème album Afroblues. Natalia M. King est une chanteuse, compositrice et guitariste américaine qui fusionne blues, jazz, soul et folk. Voix puissante du blues et du jazz modernes, elle captive par ses interprétations émouvantes. En 2025, elle franchit une nouvelle étape avec AfroBlues, un album mêlant pop dansante, afrobeat et sonorités blues. Son premier extrait, «Dumela», rend hommage à son voyage au Botswana, à sa terre rouge et à son peuple, capturant la beauté et la sagesse de ce lieu à travers sa musique. AfroBlues sera une fusion audacieuse des genres, réunissant les rythmes contagieux de l'afrobeat, des éléments de danse électronique et le soupçon de blues qui a défini sa carrière. Ce virage musical représente l'évolution continue de Natalia M. King en tant qu'artiste ne craignant pas d'expérimenter de nouveaux sons et styles. L'album est une exploration du rythme, de l'énergie et de la fusion culturelle, autour des thèmes de l'autonomisation, de la joie et de la résilience qui sont au cœur de l'album. Grâce à sa capacité à mélanger divers éléments musicaux, AfroBlues promet d'être un ajout unique et passionnant à sa discographie. À propos du premier single «Dumela» : Il existe un petit «Royaume-Uni» qui borde l'Afrique du Sud de Nelson Mandela. Une merveilleuse opportunité, par le biais de l'amour, m'y a transportée au printemps 2024 dans le merveilleux pays africain du Botswana. Les paysages, les odeurs et les sons m'ont rappelé des souvenirs oubliés. «Dumela», qui signifie bonjour en setswana (ou tswana), est mon hommage à cette mémoire oubliée et aux belles âmes que j'ai rencontrées là-bas. Je remercie les pluies et la terre rouge qui m'ont inspirée... Dumela Botswana ! Dumela Afrique ! Merci pour votre sagesse et nous nous reverrons. Natalia M. King Titres interprétés au grand studio - Dumela Live RFI - Lost & Everywhere, extrait de l'album - I Love A Woman Live RFI. Line Up : Natalia M. King (voix, guitare), Vince Laurent (batterie) & Damien Argentieri (claviers & moog). Son : Mathias Taylor & Jérémie Besset ► Album AfroBlues (Natalia M. King / Modulor 2025). Instagram - Facebook - YouTube. Puis nous recevons l'artiste britannique ALA.NI pour la sortie de Sunshine Music Lorsque ALA.NI a commencé à écrire Sunshine Music, son troisième album, l'hiver parisien de 2023 battait son plein, avec un froid mordant. Composant sous des couches de couettes dans son appartement de l'Opéra, elle puisait sa chaleur non pas dans son environnement, mais dans les souvenirs du soleil des Caraïbes qu'elle venait de quitter. Ce qui devait être un voyage de deux semaines en décembre 2020 s'est transformé en deux ans et demi entre la Barbade, la Grenade — où ses parents avaient grandi — puis la Jamaïque, un long séjour qui lui a offert un nouveau sentiment d'identité. «Vivre en Jamaïque, c'était la première fois que j'habitais dans un pays à majorité noire», dit-elle. «Les Jamaïcains sont très eux-mêmes, sans s'excuser. J'ai choisi de vivre à Paris, et je me sens plus moi-même, plus expressive et plus à l'aise ici qu'à Londres, et davantage appréciée et reconnue en tant qu'artiste aussi. Mais il y a des microagressions et des microracismes auxquels nous devons faire face chaque jour en tant que personnes de couleur. Quand je suis sortie de cet environnement, je me suis dit : «Merde, c'est ça que je gérais tout ce temps.» J'avançais simplement en acceptant certains comportements négatifs comme un acte de survie mentale.» En Jamaïque, elle a collaboré avec Sly Dunbar, l'un des batteurs légendaires de l'île, le sortant presque de sa retraite pour une session improvisée. Sunshine Music vibre du souvenir de cette chaleur : une tapisserie d'influences mêlant calypso, jazz, bossa nova et le grand répertoire d'après-guerre, le tout tissé par la voix et la sensibilité singulières d'ALA.NI. Tout au long de l'album, des styles familiers sont honorés sans pastiche : la langueur du reggae, le souffle d'un rythme bossa nova, la diction nette du théâtre musical. Titres interprétés au grand studio - Seaweed Live RFI - Tief, extrait de l'album - This is Why Live RFI. RFI Vidéos YT Line Up : Alani (chant), Thomas Naïm (guitare) Son : Mathias Taylor, Benoît Letirant ► Album Sunshine Music (No Format 2025). Instagram - Bandcamp - YT Concert 9 février 2026, Théâtre Athénée Louis Jouvet, Paris.
C'est l'époque qui voulait ça, dans les années 80, énormément de mythes circulaient à propos des groupes, chanteurs et chanteuses. On n'avait rien sous la main pour vérifier ce que des gars disaient à propos d'untel ou untel, les articles étaient rares dans la presse et les journalistes des magazines spécialisés étaient souvent logés à la même enseigne que leurs lecteurs. En clair, on ne savait rien des mecs qu'on écoutait en boucle, à part ce qui était écrit sur les pochettes de leurs disques. Alors, un groupe comme Simple Minds, vous pensez si on en a entendu au milieu des années 80. Tenez, à propos de leur énorme tube de l'été 85, Don't you forget about me … ben la chanson n'est pas d'eux. Ah bon ? Vérification faite sur le disque, ben ouais. Merde, c'est Keith Forsey. En résumé, c'est un transfuge, un british venu du monde crypto rock allemand des années 70 qui devient le batteur de Donna Summer mais produit aussi Billy Idol, puis écrit des musiques sur la BO de Flashdance et Ghostbusters. Et justement il est approché par une jeune cinéaste américain pour un projet nommé The Breakfast Club. Ça raconte le samedi de quelques ados en retenue dans leur école. Et comme ce cinéaste est fan de New Wave british, il veut Simple Minds.Les gars écoutent la chanson, mais non. On veut bien en faire une mais on l'écrit nous-mêmes. Mais leur manager étant convaincu que le générique d'un film américain, c'est bien pour percer le marché, il insiste et leur fait voir une copie du film … A la sortie, ça reste non. Qu'est-ce qu'on en a à foutre des problèmes d'étudiants amerloques. C'est quoi ces heures de retenue ? Ça n'existe pas chez nous, en Écosse. Bon, OK, on se rend. Keith Forsey et John Hugues approchent Billy Idol mais c'est non aussi, il fait un alors un carton monstre, et puis Bryan Ferry mais là encore, pas de bol, il sort disque sur disque solo et ne tient pas à embrouiller les cartes. Alors qui ?Et là, il se trouve quelqu'un à qui la chanson a plu. C'est Chrissie Hynde, la chanteuse des Pretenders. Et qui est depuis peu la femme de Jim Kerr. Et ce que femme veut … Bref, les Simple Minds se retrouvent avec Keith Forsey. Fais voir un peu ta chanson … ouais pas mal. Écoute, on va la faire mais je vais changer les paroles au début et à la fin OK ? A-t-il manqué de temps ? En tout cas, le jour de l'enregistrement, Jim Kerr envoie un hey Hey Hey au début et des Lalalalala à la fin. Je vais combler après, dit-il, je reviendrai. Jim ne reviendra pas, la chanson sortira comme ça et bingo. C'est les gimmicks que tout le monde a retenu, et aussi le premier et dernier numéro 1 de Simple Minds aux États-Unis. Alors, on va l'ajouter sur le nouvel album finalement, qui sort fin de l'année 1985.
The guys have been drinking and want to talk about their patron saint, Piero Manzoni. He was an influential artist even though he only live to be twenty nine, but the boys can't get past the fact he sold his shit in cans. Learn a little about what he accomplished in his short life while listening to two idiots try to sound like they know something about art. Really, it's not that bad.Artatthesdge.compatreon.com/gapotheclown
La SQDC se lance dans le commerce de vapoteuses. Les soupes Campbell sont-elles mauvaises pour la santé? Radio-Canada se paie des influenceurs! Tour de table entre Isabelle Perron, Alexandre Dubé et Mario Dumont. Regardez aussi cette discussion en vidéo via https://www.qub.ca/videos ou en vous abonnant à QUB télé : https://www.tvaplus.ca/qub ou sur la chaîne YouTube QUB https://www.youtube.com/@qub_radioPour de l'information concernant l'utilisation de vos données personnelles - https://omnystudio.com/policies/listener/fr
Cette semaine, on se fait bait par des hommes trop beaux, on déconstruit nos culpabilités et on se paye une tranche de culture (et de bonne humeur) !Pour écouter le 5ème Quarts d'Heure, abonnez-vous à Supercast comme ceci : https://4quartsdheure.supercast.com/Abonnez-vous à 4 Quarts d'Heure sur votre plateforme préférée : https://tr.ee/MEaR8W9S9GLes ups et les downs :Le down de Louise : qui nous a cook un gloubiboulga de culpabilité en vacancesLe rollercoaster de Amal : qui a charbonné pendant 6 heures pour un fréro complexéLe down de Camille : qui nous a cook une ribambelle de downsLe up d'Alix : lire un potentiel (maintenant oui) prix GoncourtEt retrouvez notre invitée Amal Tahir sur instagramDans cet épisode, on parle de : Ces podcasts : Les œufs, au frigo ; Garce Therapy de notre invitéeCe compte insta : Ma FertiliteamCe lieu : La fête à ParisCette civilisation : les minoen.ne.s Ce livre : « La maison vide » de Laurent MauvignierSuivez-nous sur Instagram :4 Quarts d'Heure : @4quartsdheureLouise : @petrouchka_Alix : @alixmrtnCamille : @camille.lorenteL'équipe de prod :Au montage de cet épisode Alphonse GausslinAu mixage et à la prod Zu Aux réseaux Coline Jamaitet merci à Acast pour le studio Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Ceci est un extrait du 5ème quart d'heure de la semaine : Alix se demande si c'était une excuse ou des vacancesPour écouter le 5ème Quarts d'Heure en intégralité, abonnez-vous à Supercast ici : https://4quartsdheure.supercast.com/Abonnez-vous à 4 Quarts d'Heure sur votre plateforme préférée : https://tr.ee/MEaR8W9S9GSuivez-nous sur Instagram :4 Quarts d'Heure : @4quartsdheureLouise : @petrouchka_Alix : @alixmrtnCamille : @camille.lorenteAu montage de cet épisode Alphonse GausslinAu mixage et à la prod Zu Aux réseaux Coline Jamait Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell. The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is. Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <
Aujourd'hui, Barbara Lefebvre, prof d'histoire-géo, Laura Warton Martinez, sophrologue, et Charles Consigny, avocat, débattent de l'actualité autour d'Alain Marschall et Olivier Truchot.
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Dʹun côté il y a le malaise des équipes techniques face à une direction cassante et de lʹautre une bombe en matière de dégât dʹimage. Séverine Chavrier, artiste et directrice de la Comédie de Genève a-t-elle vraiment parlé de "petites productions suisses de merde", alias PPSDM à propos de la création théâtrale romande ? Thierry Sartoretti fait le point de cette situation de crise.
Au programme de cet épisode, on se fait ensemble le debrief de cette défaite tellement RELOU à Bollaert face aux lensois
1) 7 millions de personnes descendent dans les rues pour manifester contre Trump 2) Cambriolage à la Arsène Lupin au Louvre 3) Nouvelle étape franchie dans l'arrêt des achats d'hydrocarbures russes 4) Pour la première fois, le Japon a une femme première ministre Discussion internationale avec Loïc Tassé, spécialiste en politique internationale. Regardez aussi cette discussion en vidéo via https://www.qub.ca/videos ou en vous abonnant à QUB télé : https://www.tvaplus.ca/qub ou sur la chaîne YouTube QUB https://www.youtube.com/@qub_radio Pour de l'information concernant l'utilisation de vos données personnelles - https://omnystudio.com/policies/listener/fr
Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
Hvor meget hjemsøger mink-sms'erne Mette Frederiksen? Helena er ombord på Flotilla og venter på at Israel stopper dem. Der er noget helt galt i Frankrig. Vært: Amalie Schroll Munk. Medvirkende: Lars Trier Mogensen, politisk analytiker, Dagbladet Information Helena holm Heiselberg, ombord på Flotilla.
durée : 00:45:06 - La 20e heure - par : Eva Bester - Après la sortie de son quinzième album en janvier, le chanteur canadien Pierre Lapointe, vient pour huit dates en France. L'occasion de découvrir son parcours éclectique et son univers. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.
Tokyo, Japans Hauptstadt in dem viele, viele Menschen aufeinander treffen. Millionen von Personen mit einem Leben, eigenem Alltag und eigener Geschichte. Tokyo von 2008, zeigt uns drei Kurzgeschichten, die.....anders sind. In Interior Design verwandelt sich eine Frau nach und nach in einen Stuhl. Merde präsentiert uns eine seltsame Figur, die im Untergrund lebt und die Stadt terrorisiert und Shaking Tokyo erschüttert das Leben eine Hikikomori, der nach 10 Jahren, zum ersten Mal das Haus verlässt. Ein etwas anderer Film den sich Sir Pommes und Dengeki Gamer diesmal rausgesucht haben. a Hat of Media wünscht wie immer viel Spass. Timetable 0:00:00 Begrüßung 0:03:30 Interior Design 0:15:26 Merde 0:23:11 Shaking Tokyo 0:38:00 Fazit 0:43:24 Verabschiedung Dorama Rama by aHatofMedia, das sind Sir Pommes und Dengeki Gamer, die euch mit jeder Folge in die Welt der asiatischen Dorama-Serien und Filme entführen und das Erlebte aus Ihrer Sicht wiedergeben. Die Hutzentrale: -►Homepage: http://ahatofmedia.de/ Unser Archive auf YouTube: -►Twitch Live Archiv: https://www.youtube.com/@aHatofMediaLive -►YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0qU1jdHeY2zWh97QzVGu4A Oder joined unseren Discord: -►Discord: https://discord.gg/hYhw88PPp2 Support: -►Spenden: https://ko-fi.com/ahatofmedia Hier gibt es mehr Sir Pommes: -►YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/sirpommes87 -►Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/sirpommes87 Hier gibt es mehr Dengeki Gamer: -►YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/DengekiGamer -►Twitter: https://twitter.com/dengekigamer? -►Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dengekigamer/ Hier gibt es mehr Voll Verpixelt: -►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Voll-verpixelt-1391650974211749/ -►Twitter: https://twitter.com/voll_verpixelt -►Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/voll.verpixelt/
Snogwarts graduates become Students of Briarwood, then compete for Sex Goddess.by jane700bond. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Preface:While boarding school did a reasonable job of separating guys and gals, The Briarwood College of Incanting Arts could not stop us being normal horny teens and experimenting. They had separate single sex boarding houses, but this generally meant that, at night, gals would experiment with gals and guys would experiment with guys. Then they would experiment with the opposite sex in small forgotten rooms and outbuildings and in the woods and fields that surrounded the college.Ariella, a British gal aged 18, when this story starts, might appear to have more experience than would be otherwise expected. She is no virgin! This higher education academy further develops the craft of wizardry in areas of seduction and behavioral manipulation.The heroine is taught in the story, by the young teacher, Gabriella Peacock “The Sex Goddess awakens desires in others and lets them fulfill their own fantasies through her own vast appetite for sex. She does not enslave! She gives and takes pleasure and fun.”This adaptation is based on the script posted by Jane700bond.Part 1.The Briarwood College of Incanting Arts was the premier post-secondary college of wizardry in the world and it was seven years after Ariella Divine and her other 11-year-old contemporaries had first arrived at the enormous Snogwarts castle in the far north of Scotland. Now 18, they had started their first year and are to take their Advanced Level Wizarding exams. Being 18 gave them some privileges the younger students back at Snogwarts don't have. For example, she only had to share a room with one other dorm mate instead of five; and like herself, all college students had their own set of bathrooms and showers. She had looked forward to coming back to Scotland after the long summer holiday and catching up with old friends and lovers. There were twelve pupils in the top year in Slither-in House that had survived the earlier years and advanced to The Briarwood College of Incanting Arts, six each of guys and galsAriella was universally acknowledged to have grown up to be beautiful. She was slim with black hair, stunning turquoise blue eyes and pale skin inherited from her Irish grandmother. As so often happens, she had grown during the long summer holidays. At 5 foot 7, she now stood a good bit taller, was rather more curvaceous and her breasts had filled out nicely.This latter bit of growing made her very happy as she had been rather flat chested until then, not really even an A cup and she hadn't worn bras. However, during this summer she was sure she could tell that her breasts had grown more each night of the holiday and she would experiment with them in front of the mirror before breakfast. Finally, in late August she achieved an ambition, to be able to play with her nipples with her own tongue. Soon, she thought, she would be able to suck her own teats!She deliberately dressed in a short-cut tee-shirt that was straining at the front as she wanted to show off her new weapons of sexual mass destruction. She appreciated the admiring glances from the people she passed in the street and in one or two cases, where she fancied the looker, returned the glance with a mischievous smile before she moved on. She had also noticed, the more her tits filled out, the more randy she was becoming!One adventurous day, late in the holiday, she had decided to go and look for some new bras that would fit her fast maturing body. This was to be her first proper bra fitting and Ariella was a little nervous about what was involved. Walking into the lingerie shop she noticed a rather stern woman behind the till and a much younger assistant with a nice face who Ariella thought was rather lovely. Choosing to ignore the matron and talk to the gal instead, together they discussed potential styles and colours and then, finding the gal ever more attractive, Ariella shyly asked if she could have a proper fitting. Ariella was so glad it was the young woman and not the foreboding manager who was to help her in such a personal manner. Cheerily the gal called out to the manager what she had been asked to do and led Ariella to the back of the shop.They squeezed themselves together into a small fitting room and both gals seemed to appreciate the closeness that this entailed. Currently Ariella was braless and she was aware that her now rather prominent and hard nipples protruded through the cotton of her top. Rather nervously Ariella stripped off her tee-shirt to reveal her newly blossomed breasts and the gal stood for a moment apparently admiring them, but maybe “just sizing her up professionally”, Ariella thought.The young gal's tongue was peeking through her lips as she concentrated. The sight of it began to make Ariella feel a little horny, but she had a first got a real buzz of excitement when the clerk passed the tape measure around her back and then under her breasts, gently lifting them slightly with warm hands to get the tape underneath and to measure her chest properly. It was the first time anyone else had touched these new larger and rounder mounds and she was surprised at how sensitive they were.Then the clerk had really made her gasp as she lifted her breasts again and then moved the tape up and tightened it over Ariella's nipples, the shop clerk's face showed a knowing impish grin. They were alone together in the small fitting room close enough to hug and Ariella was certain the gal would love to play a much more dangerous game in the curtained square if she had dared. The clerk's tongue was sticking out through her lips again as, with great absorption, she put her nose an inch from Ariella's chest and then read out the measurement with a surprising huskiness in her voice: “34-inch C-cup, I think. Shall I go and get some for you to try on?”The gal rather slowly pulled the tape from Ariella's chest, brushing as if accidentally the aureoles and hardened nipples - there was so little room, and it was such an intimate role she played, it could have been and accident - not! Ariella felt a heat between her legs as the clerk swished through the curtain and disappeared leaving her standing alone, half naked. She wondered about how horny she had become over the last couple of months as new hormones cruised her body. She seemed to think about sex more and more every day, her mind imagining a whole Karma Sutra of different possibilities with both guys and gals.Humping her large teddy bear had been the first surprise, the coldness of its glass nose on her clit and the bears soft fur between her legs made her appreciate the old stuffed toy in a very different way than when she had been a child. Then there was the head of the power-shower - wow what did that do when she sprayed between her legs and soaped herself? Then she had experimented in the kitchen when her parents were out. Olive oil was good, but coconut oil was better, especially when used to lubricate the banana with which she tested the tightness of her love canal by slowly parting her cunt lips with the black tip and gently pushing it in. The thing really to avoid, she discovered to her cost, was chilli oil. She had had to sit crying in a cold bath for half an hour after trying that on her clit and was not going to forget the heat of that exceedingly hot burning and painful orgasm.Even though it was a warm late August day, Ariella felt goose-pimples rising on her bare skin, especially around her exposed nipples and she shivered. The gal was about Ariella's age, a little shorter, with her blonde hair tied tidily up in a ponytail. She had golden-brown eyes which seemed to look through Ariella and know her deepest desires.Ariella could tell the clerk was experienced in dealing with bras as her chest was front heavy and needed good support. It would have had a challenge getting that pair of whoppers through adolescence without a substantial investment in fitting sessions. She must have had a lot of fans at school! Now, in a low-cut white top the deep tight valley of her cleavage exuded sex-appeal and invited an investigation into the warm hidden depths of its crevasse. Ariella wondered at her size, “34D or, more probably, Double D?” she thought, but did not know the answer.The young woman's lips were full like Ariella's and she was wearing a fashionable scarlet lip-gloss. As she had turned to leave Ariella, could not help but clock her beautiful pert backside in tight-fitting leggings. Nice, she thought, and imagined for a moment cupping that ass, whilst grinding herself into the gal as they kissed deeply, fiery hot nipples rubbing together. The heat and moisture between Ariella's legs became more noticeable and she felt the blood rise to her cheeks.After a few minutes, the clerk came back with a pile of boxes. “Shall I help you try them on?” She asked innocently.Ariella nodded, being her first time at a bra fitting, she barely dared to think what helping might involve; just having the gal measuring her had been arousing enough!The first bra was rear fastening and she put her hands out in front of her, hovering inches above the tempting cleavage, as the clerk threaded the straps up over her arms and then carefully and gently lifted Ariella's breasts into the cups to make them comfortable. Ariella shuddered with a little gasp of pleasure as the hands slowly moulded her flesh into the right position. The gal then leaned forward putting her head over Ariella's shoulder so she could see to fasten the bra at the back. The movement forward pushed the gal's own breasts into Ariella's hands. As Ariella hastily moved her arms to the side, the gal lent further forward and her own young covered bosom created a firm contact with Ariella's increasingly hard and aroused exposed peaks. The clerk expertly did up the bra and held the embrace for a few moments longer than necessary before moving her chin slowly back over Ariella's shoulder. Very deliberately, she kept her chin in firm contact with Ariella's skin as she moved her head down over Ariella's chest. Finally, the gal stopped with her nose rested on the link between the two cups of Ariella's cleavage. Ariella stood there quietly, so close to the clerk that she could smell the sweetness of the gal's breath. In a sudden a state of anticipation and rising desire, Ariella's heart began to race.“I better test the tightness.” The clerk said with a gulp, moving back slightly and leaving a gap of air between their heaving bosoms. With an air of expert concentration, she inserted a finger of each hand under the left and right straps and tested the tension. Then she moved her fingers around to the front inside the bra's material. She stopped, rather unprofessionally, with a finger on each nipple, then slowly inserting her thumbs up inside the cups, she pinched the teats gently making Ariella even more aroused. “A bit tight.” She said loudly, as if to an audience beyond the curtain. “Shall we try the next cup size up?” Reluctantly, Ariella thought, the clerk removed one of her hands and put her finger to her lips whilst miming a warning at the curtain with her eyes.There was a rustle outside and an authoritative female voice asked “How are things going Emelia?”“OK Miss Havisham,” the newly named Emelia replied “we'll find the right fitting in a minute or two.”“Fine”, came the response “I'll be by the till if you need me.” Again a rustle and footsteps moved away.“I'm sorry,” whispered Emelia to Ariella, “but I'm going to have to behave!” As if to contradict herself, she hovered her mouth directly over Ariella's breasts as she seductively reached around and neatly undid the bra. As the breasts came free her sweet lips were apart and a drop of saliva escaped and slowly dropped onto Ariella's newly unconstrained left breast. The clerk stared at the glistening drop for a moment and then quickly darted forward and took Ariella's nipple in her mouth, at the same time she passionately began to play with the other nipple with her hand, rubbing the teat between her fingers. Ariella gasped and grasped Emelia 's ass, cheeks and ground her hot crotch into the hottie, hoping their now engorged clits would connect somehow through their thin summer clothes. Half-naked, Ariella had never felt so hot.After a little while and some heavy breathing, aloud Emelia said, as normally as she could, “Have you tried a front-fastening bra?” With which she pulled her own top downward and unfastened her own bra as if demonstrating how it worked. Ariella gazed with amazement at the grapefruit sized tits and dived forward to take one of Emelia 's amazing large brown nipples in her own mouth. In sudden desperation for sexual satisfaction, she thrust her hand down the front of Emelia 's leggings and with urgency found her way through the flimsy panties to Emelia 's hot, hot cunt lips and started massaging her sex.Another rustle outside and Ariella smiled mischievously at Emelia as she said loudly “I think front-fastening is much more convenient, but can I try the next size up?”“Yes of course, Miss.” Said Emelia and with Ariella's hand still rubbing hard inside her panties and desperately trying not to gasp or moan, she started rummaging loudly through the boxes. “Here we are! Try this one. This one is a Tee-Shirt bra, just great for what you're wearing.”With the looming presence outside, Emelia shrugged and grinning naughtily, carefully removed Ariella's hand from her damp cunt and putting it to her mouth, and briefly licked her own sex juices from the other gal's fingers. After one last desperate deep honey-flavoured kiss, Emelia straightened her clothes, handing Ariella the new bra and showed her how it fastened by demonstrating with her own. “That's perfect,” called Ariella, in a business-like voice, “I'll keep this one on and take those please.”Checking in the mirror she looked decent, Emelia turned to go through the curtain. Ariella, had a last feel of her new friend's backside, slipping her hand between her legs and feeling the dampness there for a few moments. Using her thumb, she found Emelia's hot cunt lips through the material, making Emelia gasp before she moved off through the curtain. A moment later a woman thrust her head through and asked if everything was satisfactory.“Excuse me,” said Ariella haughtily “but I'm dressing, do you mind!” The head withdrew with embarrassed rapidity and for a moment Ariella sat down with a sigh, her hand undoing the button and then going down into her shorts to find her firm, stiff clit crying out for satisfaction. After a moment or two she stood and started to pull on her tee-shirt, but her hand went down into the tight darkness again for a few more moments of pleasure. She was still playing with herself and had her back to the curtain when Emelia came in. The buxom woman stood pressing herself hard against Ariella's back and licked her ear as she breathed deeply. Ariella could only just cope with the hot breath and tickling tongue, but when Emilia's hand thrust down the front of her shorts to join her own, she nearly came. Emelia said aloud “Your bras miss.”She kissed Ariella on the back of the neck and passed over a piece of paper with her number on it. “Fancy a drink tonight?” She asked quietly and then slipped away. Ariella adjusted herself, then incredibly aware of the dampness between her legs and the smell of sex on her hand, she marched out past the manager into the sunlight.That night had been a great way to end the holiday. Emelia may have been a muggle, but she was a very sexy muggle and great fun to be with. After a short drink it was obvious that they couldn't wait to get back to exploring each other's bare barely adult bodies, so with sex hormones going wild in their 18-year-old brains they almost ran from the pub to Emelia's small flat and were soon tearing each other's clothes off to try and cool their heated naked skin.It was wonderful for Ariella to bury her head in Emelia's large beautiful breasts and suckle her until Emelia groaned with longing. They were the biggest pair Ariella had ever played with and she loved the soft bouncing flesh and dark firm nipples. Ariella thought it so good to have her cunt licked and her clit teased by a gal who seemed to have much more experience than her school friend paramours. Ariella loved Emelia sitting on her face whist she probed the gal's deep dark love tunnel with her tongue and gently nipping with her teeth.Sitting there, with Ariella's tongue licking deep inside her, Emelia then brought her clit to orgasm and let Ariella drink an eruption of honey juices when she came. Ariella had no idea that a gal could cum like that, but lapped up the nectar as Emelia bucked and shuddered in climax.Ariella's face was now soaking wet with Emelia's cum juices and this made her own need to cum even more urgent. Emelia's hot lubricated cunt slid easily over Ariella's breasts and stomach, leaving a snail-trail of sex juices and then Emelia turned around to kneel between Ariella's now spread-eagled legs. Emelia sucked Ariella's nipples while she fucked her with two fingers, ever enlarging her hot pink wet hole. Then finding the magic g-spot, and at the same time using her thumb on Ariella's clit, Emelia was able to bring Ariella to a simultaneous climax. Ariella screamed in pleasure as the orgasms made her entire body shudder and tingle; it was the best sex she had ever had … to date.The two gals spent the night together sometimes snoozing until one or the other, with exploring fingers, would arouse the other and they would start their love-making again discovering new delights. Finally, the dawn found them wrapped naked around each other in exhausted sleep.Now Ariella was at The Briarwood College of Incanting Arts, and a year of intrigue, magic and adventure was ahead of her and in Briarwood there was more chance of interesting sex than in any of the others. After her adventure with Emelia, Ariella thought if might be fun trying to win the role of Briarwood Sex Goddess and bring the poor reputation of Slither-in alumnae to new depths of depravity. Whilst an honour not recognised by the college officially, Sex Goddess was a title given to one of the babes of Briarwood each year and, in celebration of her newly awakened sex drive, Ariella thought of the excitement to be had on the way to be crowned.Slither-in was the naughty house at Snogwarts, where the virtuous and the boring where not welcome. Slither-in students were specially chosen by the Sorting Hat that magically recognised that they would grow up to be as randy as hell; the guys were filled with testosterone and the gals, nymphomaniacs. What could possibly go wrong in a boarding school house where the final year students where all full of new found magical powers and ready to experiment?Ariella had left the express train late in the afternoon and entered the Briarwood womens' dorm, an ancient edifice of towers and dungeons. She went immediately to the house notice board. Firstly, there was a notice about uniforms.· “Because of the current warm weather, and to maintain a healthy well-ventilated body, kilts and cotton shirts or blouses are the order of the day until the weather cools. In true Scots fashion kilts will be worn commando style by students. By order: Snake, the new Dean of Students”.Because the college was also in the north of Scotland, both sexes had a kilt as part of their uniform. The guys wore a more heavily pleated style, whilst the gals were lighter and shorter. The order to wear kilts was quite usual in warm weather, but the order for commando style was normally just for the guys. Ariella was intrigued and thought the coolness it provided would be a welcome change from wearing knickers all the time. But uniforms weren't needed until the next day when lessons started.Ariella then looked to see who was sharing rooms with whom and was surprised to discover the name of her roommate was unknown to her. It was unusual for a new pupil to join in the final year. She went to the Dean of Students to ask who Lucille l'Astique was and where had she come from.Dr. Snake, who just joined the college faculty this fall semester, had come from the Slither-in House at Snogwarts. He already knew several of the college students from their younger days. He was also Master of Defense Against The Dark Arts (or DADA for short) and, as suited the position, was a tall dark saturnine figure, about thirty-five years old. He often frightened the pupils of the other houses with his dark humour and ferocious tongue, but he has a soft spot for his own students and after seven years Ariella was on good terms with him. She knocked and went into his office where Snake lounged in his office chair, feet up on the large red leather desk. He looked up as she came in and stared at Ariella with surprise, seeming to slowly take in how she had flowered over the summer, his eyes roving deliberately from her shapely legs, her firm bare midriff and then he her clocked her expanded bosom, straining in its tight short tee-shirt. After lingering thoughtfully for a moment his eyes finally came to rest on the stunning beauty of her face.Then slowly lifting himself languorously from his chair he approached with a wide smile. “Why Ariella,” he said, “you have grown both taller and considerably more beautiful over the holiday.” His six-foot three height always made her feel like the little girl she had been when she had first met him. Now he looked down on her with satisfaction as he took in her new shape, examining the newly formed breasts that pressed against the tight cotton of her top. The look he gave may have been entirely appropriate for the supposedly evil DADA Snake, Dean of Students, but was probably inappropriate for your average teacher.His hands motioned in front of her and for a moment Ariella, heart thudding a little faster, thought he was going to grab her breasts and try them for size. But instead, as if by magic a badge saying “Prefect” appeared in one hand and with extreme delicacy, he pinned it over her heart, being careful not to let the sharp pin prick her skin. Ariella grinned with excitement at the honour - Prefect! She was so overwhelmed it did not occur to her that Dr. Snake was extraordinarily close. His hands continued to hover near her top as if he was wondering if he could dare lift it up and expose the secret delights it hid.He smiled again, “Umm,” he muttered “your lips have filled out beautifully as well. Gosh, it is nice to have such a sexy and beautiful damsel in my care. I like to make the beautiful ones my Prefects so I can get to know them better. Maybe in your case the badge should say “Perfect” instead of “Prefect” you look so good. Damsels are much more attractive to have around … and more tempting … than those horrible randy guys, I always think. I never make them prefects. You must come and have tea with me one day“ He finished abruptly.Snake had never spoken to Ariella like this before and she felt flushed and a little delighted to have caught the attention of the older wizard. "Sexy and beautiful!” she thought, “I like that description.”“Who is this Lucille l'Astique I am to share with?” she asked looking into his dark smiling eyes.“Ah, Lucille!” he said. “She is a French dame, daughter of the infamous wizard the Marquis l'Astique le Grand. She has had to escape to Britain as her father was recently arrested for using black magic! I hope you will welcome her and make friends… I know you like to be friendly with gals.” He winked and Ariella wondered quite what he knew exactly about her being friendly with gals.“She is probably feeling lonely and scared.” He continued, “So I thought of lovely you as the perfect companion. Please show her the ropes and mentor her through the complexities of Snogwart's life.”Ariella smiled and agreed to go and find the new gal and introduce her to the dormatory and the college. As she turned, Snake's hand patted her bottom and Ariella, instinctively, brushed the hand away with her own which then came in hard contact with a very hard snake in Snake's trousers. The doctor gasped and Ariella went brightly on her way thinking “Sex-goddess, I won't even have to try!”Up the spiral staircase to the women's study-bedrooms went Ariella, wondering what Lucille would be like. Her own French was reasonable, but she hoped the dame spoke English. Her bedroom was at the top of a tower with two staircases, which was split down the middle to divide the gals' and the guys' wings. As she walked in, she saw an elfish-looking figure wearing a light muslin shift leaning out of the window taking in the scenery. The sun shining on the dame made the shift almost see-through and Ariella stood transfixed for the moment looking at the golden figure, her youthful curves mere shadows under the material. Lucille straightened up and turned, the sun now illuminating the dame's strawberry-blonde hair in a halo of brightness. She turned and smiled at Ariella and Ariella's heart nearly stopped at the beauty of the dame before her. Ideas of herself as Sex Goddess disappeared as surely this was a real goddess revealed to her is all her power. “My goodness,” she whispered “you are beautiful!” and more loudly “Vous êtes très belle mademoiselle.”“Et tu!” said the stranger in a soft sexy voice.The young ladies were both beautiful. Ariella, long black braided hair with pale white skin from her Celtic ancestors, Lucille strawberry-blonde hair like rose-gold in an elf-bob, with honey-gold skin, toned by a more southern sun. Ariella, eyes turquoise blue like a Caribbean Sea and Lucille's green like emeralds. Both their bodies were at the point of maturity where the gawkiness of childhood is replaced by the perfect blossoming of young womanhood. Both with perfect breasts and hips and long and shapely legs. Ariella a fine round face with and sexy cupid-bow lips and Lucille with the high-cheek bones of an aristocrat and wide lip formed into a superior smile. It was as if Lucille was a goddess of the sun and Ariella goddess of the moon.They stood and stared at each other for a long moment then realising her tongue was licking her lips and a blush was extending up her neck, Ariella first broke contact. She said with a voice she later thought must have sounded like the excited gabbling of a 1950's gym mistress “Gosh Hello, I'm Ariella Divine, you must be Lucille l'Astique, fantastic to meet you, gosh! We're to share this room, so jolly - I'm so very happy to meet you! Welcome to Student Dorm House.” I came from Slither-in House, at Snogwarts. She stopped realising she was babbling nonsense.“Slither-in? Slither … in?” repeated Lucille slowly with a hint of a grin, the words rolling around her mouth, “Is that what a guy's cock does when he fucks you? Merde, it sounds like it!”Ariella was shocked, which was actually something she could hardly believe, given her life to date. Shocked not so much by the vulgarity that had just come out the mouth of this golden goddess, but by the sudden thought of a guy's cock slithering between her legs. Looking at the expression on Ariella's face Lucille smiled broadly and broke into a beautiful tinkle of laughter. She walked forward, put her arms on Ariella's shoulders and kissed her on each cheek in the continental style. “I am sorry,” she said, “but I had not realised; you are an innocent. So cute!”“Innocent?” gasped Ariella in indignation, “Me? Cute? I tell you mademoiselle; I'm going to be voted the Sex Goddess of Briarwood this year. You just took me by surprise - I had just never thought of the word Slither-in that way before. Quite an exciting concept really.”The blonde dame stepped forward and looked deep into Ariella's sea blue eyes “Is Sex Goddess a position in this place? Like Head dame? Wow! I thought you British didn't like sex.”Ariella, stared back and said a little quietly “Yes, we enjoy sex and Sex Goddess is a title you can win in. The idea is to make all the other pupils want to slave, to meet your every wish!”Lucille stepped closer still so that the two goddesses now touched each other, nipple to nipple. “Let's have a competition.” she said, huskily, the words spoken so close to Ariella's lips she could feel the breath of them. Ariella brushed her lips against those of the other dame, then she nervously pushed out her tongue and slowly parted Lucille's lips. Lucille responded and soon the gals were kissing passionately. Without letting go, Ariella led Lucille to one of the beds and there they lay together limbs tangled and breathing harder and harder as their bodies were turned on by the exploring hands of the other.To be continued..by jane700b
Alpenhäfligers Ja Heute ist es ein guter Tag, zum Träumen, zum Nachdenken und zum Komponieren. Sich etwas regenieren. Today is a think Day ? A good day. Der Tag der ausgezogenen Seidenstrümpfe, ja es tanzund uf dinum wissu Tschebbäl, ja uf dinum wissuuu Tschaggu ja uf dinä schneewissu - dinäää Tschippolata weissen Beinen die Schlümpfe. Welche lieben deine ausgezogenen Seidenstrümpfe. Aus ausgenutzten Banana-Schalä entsteht ein Fairtrade Bio Gleitgel u Melba meint : A Slow Food Schnägguuu hinterlässt eine Schleimspur darauf bis zum nächsten Salatblatt. Sauglatt. Liebe Mobiliar - Liebe ValäiSANA - Beim Walliser Schwarz Nasen Schaf Woll Roll Kragen Bikini Song Contest haben sich mehrere Personen die Zunge, den Hals und den Nacken verrenkt. Und ich komponiere weiter am Fendärbörg Song. Das Intro vielleicht gesungen von Jodler:innen - dann Alphörner und Glocken - Trichläää u Glocken - es folgt feinster Alpenreggae - dort wo die Schneekanonen rauschen dann im Chor? Das Saaser-Lied? Darf ein Taugenichts nichts taugen? Untauglichkeit ? Sei mein Schaf mit Erdbeermund. / Eine berühmte Frau hat einmal gesagt - eine Rose ist eine Rose, ist eine Rose. Ich glaube sie hatte recht. ( Helge Schneider ) Dazu trinken wir nun ein feines Glas Walliser Rose - ob sprudlig oder still ? Natürlich sind wir heute hier und jetzt bei den Häfligers und ja Bau und Zeugungsjahr vom Gunti - 1975 ? Kraftstoff - Cornalin - ja wir erinnern uns dann das Inserat ? Zustand ? Vergesslich. Gunti hat ja für sich und Marie so ein Wachrüttelseminar gebucht und gerade gestern habe ich gesehen - in Naters gibt es eine Persönlichkeitswerkstatt - doch dazu vielleicht später einmal mehr im Hengert u ja neue Sendungen sind geplant - erste Woche Oktober = mim Deyrush - wir sind gespannt - dann vielleicht auch das Thema Denkmalpflege. Ja der gezähmte Tatendrang - Tatendrangdompteur - Tatendrangbesänftiger - Drachen - Gletscherfee - Aprikosenplantagen - Dollinoir. Wiederauferstehung und Kopf hoch - witär tanzu. Gerade arbeiten wir an einer Skulptur des Monats - eine auf dich gut Schulter kopflende Schulterklopf Maschine mit Applaus und so. Ja so eine Art - Kompliment Maschine für gute Mitarbeiter:innen. Könnte wohl jede Firma gut gebrauchen weil ja meistens der Chef nicht so wirklich….? Bauchpinselei von Melba und danke für deine Geschichte und wie das gerade alles so gut tut! Im Radio läuft gerade das neue Lied von Herbert Grönemeyer - FLIEG und ist er nicht gerade unterwegs mit seine Unplugged Tour, neue Platte? Bis es dann so weit ist - sing ich halt selber, filme mich, beobachte mich danach auf dem very big flat screen tv und könnte ja noch ein ultraleichtes Rennrad bestellen? Ja lieber selber kreieren anstatt nur konsumieren. Selbstlachattacke und wieso das besser ist als jede Therapie, der Gang in die Kirche? Gebet tut gut und Beichte erlöst aber wieso kreierst du keinen eigenen Podcast? Ich würde dir gerne zu hören. Die Idee - die Vorlesung - die Anfrage - keine Klage. Ja das wohl schönste an der Liebe ist der Anfang und das Ende. Auftritte, Fehltritte, Cremeschnitte. Ein Määäärchändising Shop am Konzert für eben so Pausenshopping oder danach und ja Freude herrscht - ich werde REICH ! Im Shop so Poster und Postkarten mit den besten Zitaten - das wohl schönste an der Liebe ist der Anfang und das Ende. Oder Zitat gemäss Wolfgang Lehnhof - ja jeder macht mal einen Fehler. Hochzeits-Cabaret. / Werbung an Hoch-Zeits Messen mit eigenem Wohl-Stand ? Fendäbörg-Schwarznasenschaf-Woll-Roll-Chragu Bikini - T-Shirts u Menschen zum Lachen bringen - nur ein unglücklicher Pessimist beginnt sich in der Hafen der Ehe? Ich habe ja keine Lösung zu Eheproblemen aber bewundere das Problem. ( Zitat angepasst !! ) Heiratuuuu? Heiratuuu? Jetzu schoo? De fahrät doch zerscht a mal zämu in d Ferie ? ( Mama ) Da werdet ihr danach dann schon sehen ob die Pfyfolträäää danach noch weiter tanzen? Ich persönlich habe ja drei Jahre zu früh geheiratet? Zielsetzung war ja - ich heirate nie vor 30 !!! Wichtig ist es eben am richtigen Zeitpunkt auch einmal NEIN zu sagen und auch dazu bieten unsere Dienststellen ja Workshops an. Ein Nein muss nämlich auf gut geübt sein. ! Ja und wie gesagt, an der Zeit gewöhnt man sich ANEINANDER, und habe sie gewusst, dass das Wort NEIN um Wort aNEINander wohnt? Dä lüeg doch grad sälbscht? Betreffend Freiraum und geplanten Fluchtversuchen und gerade letzte Woche versuchte Gunti aus den eigenen vier Wänden auszubrechen. Dies nach einem Argument zb : Säg Gunti - jetzt luegt di doch a mal a ! Machsch äu kei Gattig mi u sogar där Hosuladuriiisverschluss isch wit offu, u wemu genau luegt gseht mu nu durch dä Schlitz a dinä Unärhosäää u dini best lockig friend heicht ja da zum Ziiiig üs u der Gartuuu seltisch appa äu mal wider mähen? Säg Mariiieee - jetzt losabu - das hät alles einen Grund. Ä los Gunti - bei dir hat immer alles einen Grund. Nei Marie - hittu isch da Tag der offenen Tür…..! Doch zurück zu den geplanten Fluchtversuchen und Freiräumen in einem Ehe-Leben. Manch einer geht ja dann arbeiten. Nicht weil der das zb, finanziell nötig hätte aber so där ganz Tag binär Alta oder äbu bim ALTU ? Spätestens bei der Pensionierung … nun ja man rechne selber. Hilfreich sind dann auch so Vereinsmitgliedschaften und man ein Ehepaar ist dann in so sieben Vereine pro Woche? / Dies damit man ein bisschen der Käfighaltung entkommt und ja unser Gunti - betreffend Inserat und so Käfighaltung ist ja nicht wirklich verkaufsfördernd, eher freier Auslauf mit Fussfessel ( Ehering ? ) Gunti hat sich ja auch versucht zu OUTEN bei Marie und meinte er sei eigentlich schon seit seiner Jugend homosexuell - also schwul u so a richtige TUNTA. Gut das Marie in nicht immer so ernst nimmt? Dass er an einem Minderbeachtugsdefizit leidet ist ihr noch nicht aufgefallen und sicher war Narzissmus und Sucht schon Themen in der Eheberatung, aber eben. Nun arbeiten wir noch an der Playlist für EHE.2.6 Ein kleine Erflolgsmeldung aus dem Studio Supersaxo ? Nun gut ja viele Events sind geplant so sind wir nächste Woche vom DO-SO am Wine-Date in Luzern, aber eben, zurück zur kleinen Erfolgsmeldung. Kleine einfache Übungen an der Loop Station und ja der neue Verstärker macht wirklich Freude und was die Nachbarschaft so tanzt. Heute Abend koche uns einen feinen Salat mit geräucherter Ende - und Pfirsicht. Also Alphorn nun 4 Stimmig, auch Gesang top, dann Glocken und BEATF und ja das wichtigste mit der Loop Station ist der BEAT und ja damit auch alles im Takt. Taktgefühl. Weil Leute auch immer so im Takt tanzen und klatschen, und falls sie sich dann verklatschen und ich aus dem Takt gerate, davon habe ich am meisten Angst vor so Live Auftritten ja eben auch Hallenstadion. Frere Jaques - Ding Däng Dong - Ding -Däng Dong. Ja und noch gerade Gestern ist der Eilkurs der Schweizer Post so mitten durch die 30er Zone gebrettert. Laut Augenzeugen gab es nichts bemerkendes. Obwohl Leute auch aus Deutschland da waren, hatte die Bild under Blick nichts zu berichten. Im Radio läuft gerade das Lied - Love and Mariage. Und ja wir wollten doch noch zurück zu der Idee - Hörbuch - ja so ganz nüchtern schüchtern….? Darf ein Jude eine Rampensau sein? The Drum is the Most important Instrument. Takt. Herzschlag - ja auch als Puls bekannt? Nein obwohl, doch? Der Puls fühlt man ja ganz körperlich und Herz ist beim Herz? Takt - da der BEAT pulsiert durch die Lebensadern? Ä los z wichtigschta in dinum Löbe sind där doch dini Schaf? Früher war ich noch dein Seil - Gunti. Ja und ich dein Bähnli - Marie. Ja früher waren wir noch eine Seilbahn. Gemeinsam. Heute sind wir gemeinsam-einsam. So zogen sie von dannen - an ihre Arbeitsplätze und trafen auf wenig Fehlertoleranz. Wir erinnern und an den Refrain vom Lied - a chue kiiiit vam Himmel a briiii? Intoleranz, Rägu u Trachtunz, Akzeptanz, Arogganz eben neu noch FEHLERTOLERANZ ? Ein der grössten Fehler, die wir machen, ist zu erwarten, dass andere genau so denken wie wir !! Jetzt isch dä fertig lustig und zu wenig Sex in einer Ehe führt zu einem frühen Tod. Wieso sagt man so völlig wütend - jetzt isch dä fertig lustig. Also wenn ich das so den Hunden heuruuuu das finden sie dann immer wieder sehr belustigend. Einfach im Nichtstun, im Nichtssagen verweilen das hätte mir schon manch Ärger erspart, ein meinem Leben. ( Nino de Angelo ) Was gerade im Radio läuft ? Roger Witacker. Darf eine Veganerin auch mal eine beleidigte Leberwurst sein ? Gunti hat ja jetzt auch so ein Inserat geschaltet und darin steht - suche noch jemanden welcher sich gerade finanziell um mich kümmert. Dann hatten wir noch einen Hengert wegen eben Pointen wiederholen oder erklären. Aus der letzten Sendung wissen wir noch? Wir sind ja niemandem Rechenschaft schuldig. Entweder jemand versteht den Humor oder eben nicht? Wollte ja nur sicher gehen. Los - bisch ja nid bi där Securitas ! Äbu nu Playlist für Ehe.2.6 zusammen stellen? Schneewalzer finde ich auch gut. Tut gut. Nur Mut. Eigentlich darf ich je die Menschen nicht entmutigen eben betreffend auch mal zum richtigen Zeitpunkt NEIN sagen, wäre ja schlecht für mein Geschäft und die Idee fürs Hochzeitscabaret? Zum Schluss vielleicht noch eine Lied Idee? Also wiederum fittalblutt und ja dieses mal am Rhonesand-Stand - keis Gwand a u ja äu Fernanda wiederum im Hengert mit dum Bjorn Börg. Eine hausgemachte handgemachte Walliser Wasserstoff Granate fliesst gerade Richtung Genf, päding, pädäng und gerade springt ein romantischen Sätzlein - Poster und Postkarten Idee für den Määährchendasing Shop Dü misch mini Granata, u ich dinä Äpfel, zäum siwär a Granat-Äpfel. ? / Hammäääär - nid wahr ? Bi ja so romantisch veranlagt. Und gerade in diesem Moment fällt ein orthodoxer Jude vom Operations-Tisch nitschiiii !! Das frisch transplantierte Schweinsnierchen welches eigentlich in Herrn Müller rein hätte müssen tun sein hineinoperiert wurde eben nun in Herrn Avraham Friedmann transferiert doch diese Niere wurde vom Körper abgewiesen? Vielleicht muss man ein Schwein sein und ein Schwein zu sein? Also auch Schwein essen und so ? Medien aber berichteten doch aber gerade zuvor über erfolgreiche Versuchen an lebenden Menschen? Dies bringt mich gerade zur nächsten Idee. O - weh ! Im Nebenzimmer und diese nun sehr makaber - auch grüüsig und Leserinnen und Leser über 18 Jahren nun bitte alle Ohren und Augen auf ZU ! Die Tochter Friedmann vergnügt sich im Nebenzimmer mit beinahe Schwiegersohn Yaakov Horowitz. Sie spielen so ein an ein sadomasisches Spielchen - Pass the Pigis - verfolgen sich fittlablutt durchs Stationszimmer und wie gesagt, spielen Pig Chase ….. und sie schreit - ich liebe es wenn du so schweinehaft redest, stöhnst und grunzen tust. Er so : ich bissuuu der jetzt dä grad in dies Schwinshaxjiiii. Und nun wird es richtig eklig - und ich brunzuuu der dä grad uf dis Schwiiinsgsicht. O dini Schwinsöhrliiii si so knuspirg………………Oh - Oh - Oh - GRUNTZ - GRUNTZ Grunt - OH OH OH - Osso Buccooooooo!!! U jetzt chämäää wär da grad wirklich zum Schluss. Zum Schuss. Orgasmousse. Nein jetzt wird es richtig böse und es tut auch gut sich hier und jetzt mal den Schmerz von der Seele zu schreiben, von der Seele zu reden. Also bitte nimm mir das jetzt nicht persönlich. Jetzt nid fär besch u ich will ja deine Gefühle bei Gott nicht verletzten, aber du bist ein riesen Arschloch. Hoffe du wirst bald von Deinem Charakter-Aids erlöst. Darum sägiiii dä äu immer - c`est mieux de faire la Connerie que d`finir noyé dans la psyichatierie. A quack quack quack quack - bon tuir la cochonnerie, qu'avaler vos putain vacheries, Mon Cherie - Pandämiii - Magusiii - Pharmacie - Fendämie - ja liebär dini Seel a chli la fendale wa immer nur andelez - andelez ? La Verité, c`est qu`la tourberie - a plus de style que tout ta philosophie. La vache qui rit. Sophie, Sophie ou est tu ? Merde sans toi, c'est just la vache qui rit, un gout de saloprie, dans ma connerie . Ja allí mini Äntli, schwimmund nu immär ufum Mattmarksee, zämu mit der Gletscherfee wa Nachts wacht ubär Saas-Fee. Wir erinnern uns an die Quackantinos? KWAKANTINOS ? Aus Quackalsusien? Dottore Proffesore Äntufädär. Der Erfinder vom Enthophin? Sschinäää Figlio sich gerade vergnügt mit dum Chick Chicheria üs Nuggetanien? Fertig lustig.
Je vous retrouve aujourd'hui pour une nouvelle carte postale sonore. Si tu ne sais pas de quoi il s'agit va écouter la carte postale d'hier, où je t'explique en quoi ça consiste. Je vais parler vite, en utilisant beaucoup de langage familier, exactement comme si je laissais un message vocal à un ou une ami/e française! Bien sûr, si c'est beaucoup trop difficile pour toi de me comprendre, pas de panique, écoute ces cartes postales pour voir ce que tu es capable de comprendre, et juste pour le plaisir. Pour profiter de l'été et recevoir chaque week-end une bulle pour mettre du français sous ton parasol
J'suis trop mal, j'ai invité Lalou BRT (ma bff des réseaux sociaux) pour qu'on parle, à la base, du fait qu'au collège on la prenait pour une teubé et moi pour une moche, mais en fait, on a littéralement parlé 5min sur 45... Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
The gang's (mostly) back together—Zea's out, but the boys are locked in and ready to go. First up: a spoiler-free review of the latest hotness, Clair Obscur. They break down the mechanics, the aesthetics, and, of course, sprinkle in a few complaints. Merde indeed. Izzy checks in with his ongoing anime binge, and the team takes a detour to collectively groan at A Minecraft Movie, which somehow continues to print money despite everything. Finally, the crew dives into Izzy's pick for the week: Inhuman Kiss (2019). Get ready for blood, folklore, and feelings—lots of feelings. Support us on Patreon!
L'ase fétide est une résine gummeuse extraite des racines de plantes du genre Ferula, principalement Ferula assa-foetida, appartenant à la famille des Apiacées (la même que le fenouil ou la carotte). Cette substance, de couleur brun rougeâtre à jaune pâle, est surtout connue pour une caractéristique… peu flatteuse : son odeur particulièrement nauséabonde, à mi-chemin entre l'ail pourri, le soufre et le gaz. D'où ses surnoms évocateurs : « merde du diable », ou encore devil's dung en anglais.Origine et propriétésL'asa fétide est récoltée en incisant les racines de la plante, souvent dans des régions arides d'Iran, d'Afghanistan ou du Turkménistan. La résine s'écoule lentement, durcit au contact de l'air, et est ensuite récoltée.Malgré son odeur initialement repoussante, cette résine est extrêmement précieuse depuis l'Antiquité. Les Romains l'utilisaient comme substitut au silphium, une plante aujourd'hui disparue, et elle figure aussi dans les traités médicinaux grecs, arabes et indiens.En cuisine : un goût qui transcende l'odeurEn Inde, l'ase fétide est connue sous le nom de "hing", et tient une place importante dans la cuisine végétarienne, notamment dans les plats ayurvédiques. Quand elle est chauffée dans de l'huile ou du ghee, son odeur piquante s'adoucit pour libérer un arôme proche de l'ail ou de l'oignon caramélisé. Elle est donc très utile comme exhausteur de goût, surtout pour ceux qui ne consomment pas d'ail ni d'oignon pour des raisons religieuses ou digestives.Usages médicinaux et autres fonctionsDans la médecine traditionnelle (ayurvédique, iranienne, tibétaine), l'ase fétide est utilisée pour traiter :les troubles digestifs (ballonnements, gaz),les infections respiratoires,certaines douleurs nerveuses.Elle possède des propriétés antibactériennes, antivirales, insecticides et même psychoactives à fortes doses. On la retrouve donc aussi dans des encens, des fumigations, voire des rituels magiques dans certaines traditions.Et en parfumerie… on s'en parfume vraiment ?Oui, étonnamment. Malgré son nom et son odeur brute, l'ase fétide est utilisée en très petites quantités dans certains parfums pour leur donner du caractère et de la profondeur. On la retrouve, par exemple, dans "Tendre Poison" de Dior, où elle apporte une note animale, cuirée, légèrement sale, qui accentue la sensualité du parfum. Elle sert aussi de fixateur, permettant à d'autres arômes de durer plus longtemps.En résuméRésine issue des racines du Ferula assa-foetidaOdeur pestilentielle, goût complexe après cuissonTrès utilisée en cuisine indienne et iraniennePropriétés médicinales, insecticides et même psychotropesPrésente dans certains parfums pour son effet fixateur et ses notes animalesParadoxe absolu : ce qui pue le plus peut aussi sublimer un plat… ou un parfum. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Aujourd'hui, Emmanuel de Villiers, Joëlle Dago-Serry et Charles Consigny débattent de l'actualité autour d'Alain Marschall et Olivier Truchot.
Mourir dans la merde, disons que c'est pas mal la pire des morts qui peut arriver non ? Eh ben, c'est arrivé à une gang de gars dans ce qu'on a appelé l'Accident des latrines d'Erfurt. ERRATUM: il s'agit du futur empereur de l'empire Germanique Henri 6 et non Henri 4! Merci à un fidèle abonné http://www.youtube.com/@guillaumeixdaquitaine8288 Adhérez à cette chaîne pour obtenir des avantages : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN4TCCaX-gqBNkrUqXdgGRA/join Pour soutenir la chaîne, au choix: 1. Cliquez sur le bouton « Adhérer » sous la vidéo. 2. Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/hndl Musique issue du site : epidemicsound.com Images provenant de https://www.storyblocks.com Abonnez-vous à la chaine: https://www.youtube.com/c/LHistoirenousledira Les vidéos sont utilisées à des fins éducatives selon l'article 107 du Copyright Act de 1976 sur le Fair-Use. Sources et pour aller plus loin: Erfurter Latrinensturz https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erfurter_Latrinensturz The Erfut latrine disaster https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPjg-pDbVzY Accident des latrines d'Erfut https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Accident_des_latrines_d%27Erfurt Gottfried, J.L. (1743). Johann Ludwig Gottfrieds historische Chronik oder Beschreibung der merckwürdigsten Geschichte. P.H. Hutter « Curio #1: The Erfurter Latrinensturz », sur The Fortweekly, avril 2008 Autres références disponibles sur demande. #histoire #documentaire #latrines #erfut #latrine
Oui c'est mal de se dénigrer. Surtout ça fait mal. Mais comment prendre un pas de côté et commencer à se faire repousser les envies ? Un podcast Bababam Originals Ecrit par Hélène Vézier Retrouvez tous les épisodes de Madame Meuf ici. Première diffusion le 24/09/2024 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
La résilience est à toutes les sauces, quitte à finir en contre-sens et à être utilisée contre nous. Explications ! Un podcast Bababam Originals Ecrit par Hélène Vézier Retrouvez tous les épisodes de Madame Meuf ici. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Madame meuf se transforme en complotiste et imagine qui a inventé le printemps pour nous faire passer la pilule du pire ! A retrouver en vidéo sur le compte Instagram @madame.meuf Retrouvez tous les épisodes de Madame Meuf ici. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
durée : 00:03:04 - Dans le prétoire - Au tribunal correctionnel de Melun, c'est une affaire de violences conjugales comme les autres, sauf qu'ici, ils ont une vingtaine d'années. C'est quand elle a découvert qu'elle n'était pas la première à subir les harcèlements de Marc que Justine a décidé de porter plainte.
Toutes les réponses à tes questions ! Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
The Dancing Housewife Podcast (formerly Coffee Break with The Dancing Housewife)
In this episode of the Dancing Housewife podcast, the Dancing Housewife delves into the intriguing and humorous tradition of ballroom dancers saying 'merde' instead of 'good luck.' She explains the historical French origins of the term, the superstition behind avoiding 'good luck,' and why 'break a leg' isn't suitable for dancers. The episode also highlights various pre-performance rituals dancers follow. Listeners are encouraged to embrace 'merde' and make it their own quirky good luck charm. If you're enjoying The Dancing Housewife let us know! Leave a comment or review and subscribe on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or your favorite platform and follow us on Instagram and Facebook so you never miss an episode! And don't forget to visit The Dancing Housewife Blog for more content.
Ecolo se lance dans une refondation pour répondre à une perte de lien avec les citoyens et redéfinir son positionnement politique. À travers une communication audacieuse, avec le slogan "On a merdé, alors on veut vous écouter", le parti initie une large consultation populaire, impliquant militants, élus, et société civile. Inspiré par d'autres refondations politiques (Les Engagés, DéFI), Ecolo envisage même un éventuel changement de nom, sans tabou. Ce processus vise à réconcilier son ADN écologiste avec les attentes d'une société marquée par des crises (Covid, guerre, inflation) et des aspirations contradictoires. Critique pour une « écologie punitive », le parti doit résoudre le paradoxe entre sobriété et attractivité politique. La refondation soulève des questions existentielles : peut-on réinventer l'écologie politique sans trahir ses fondamentaux ? La consultation devra apporter des réponses à ces défis dans un monde en pleine mutation. Merci pour votre écoute N'hésistez pas à vous abonner également aux podcasts des séquences phares de Matin Première: L'Invité Politique : https://audmns.com/LNCogwPL'édito politique « Les Coulisses du Pouvoir » : https://audmns.com/vXWPcqxL'humour de Matin Première : https://audmns.com/tbdbwoQRetrouvez tous les contenus de la RTBF sur notre plateforme Auvio.be Retrouvez également notre offre info ci-dessous : Le Monde en Direct : https://audmns.com/TkxEWMELes Clés : https://audmns.com/DvbCVrHLe Tournant : https://audmns.com/moqIRoC5 Minutes pour Comprendre : https://audmns.com/dHiHssrEt si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement.
Le naturaliste Marc Giraud nous raconte les plus incroyables histoires naturalistes liées à la merde, aux bouses, fientes, étrons, et autres déjections, qui ne sont sales et inutiles que pour Homo sapiens. Pour le reste du Vivant, rien ne se perd, et les crottes sont d'abord des aubaines.Un sujet bien senti, des anecdotes qui font mouche, ce «cabinet des curiosités» ne raconte que des infos étonnantes, toutes vraies.Des crottes rose bonbon de la baleine aux étrons carrés du wombat, des couches-culottes des oisillons aux araignées déguisés en fientes, de la célèbre moucham au fabuleux bousier, du popo "hélicoptérien" de l'Hippo au clapet anal du Mammouth, cette série "enchianteuse" restera gravée dans les annales ;) Elle est tirée de “Safari dans la bouse”, un des nombreux livres de Marc._______Découvrez les autres séries avec Marc.Voici “Balade au bord l'eau”...… Et celle sur les “bêtes de sexe”._______
SÅ! Nu räck dä! Quiz med mobbarn och obekväma toasituationer. Kliv gärna i en fransk hundbajs förresten! Merde! Tack Vibes för veckans poddspons. (Getvibes.se och koden är LOUISEJULIA)
Tous les vendredis, samedis et dimanches soirs, Pascale de la Tour du Pin reçoit deux invités pour des débats d'actualité. Avis tranchés et arguments incisifs sont au programme.
Pascal Praud revient pendant deux heures, sans concession, sur tous les sujets qui font l'actualité. Aujourd'hui, il revient sur les propos d'Emmanuel Macron qui scandalisent l'opinion, devant les habitants sinistrés à Mayotte, après le cyclone Chido. Vous voulez réagir ? Appelez-le 01.80.20.39.21 (numéro non surtaxé) ou rendez-vous sur les réseaux sociaux d'Europe 1 pour livrer votre opinion et débattre sur les grandes thématiques développées dans l'émission du jour.
L'émission 28 Minutes du 07/12/2024 Ce samedi, Renaud Dély décrypte l’actualité avec le regard international de nos clubistes : Richard Werly, correspondant à Paris du quotidien suisse “Blick.fr” ; Gil Mihaely, historien et directeur de publication de la revue “Conflits” ; Eva Morletto, correspondante à Paris pour le magazine italien “Grazia” et le dessinateur de presse Nicolas Vadot. En Syrie, le retour de la menace islamiste ?En début de semaine, les factions “rebelles” du nord de la Syrie et les islamistes radicaux du groupe HTS (ancienne branche syrienne d’Al-Qaïda) ont conquis Alep, la deuxième ville du pays. Plus récemment, ils sont entrés dans Hama, à environ 200 kilomètres de Damas. Ces villes étaient jusque-là contrôlées par le régime syrien de Bachar Al-Assad, qui se retrouve fragilisé par cette guerre. En 2019, l’État islamique et son califat, autoproclamés en juin 2014, avaient été officiellement défaits en Syrie par la communauté internationale. La ville d’Alep avait été reprise aux forces rebelles syriennes par le régime de Bachar Al-Assad en 2016. La crise en France vue de l’étranger : péripétie ou déclassement durable ?“Merde” titre “The Economist” en Une de son numéro hebdomadaire avec en sous-titre : “La France entre dans l’inconnu”. La presse internationale suit activement la crise politique en cours en France, dont la censure du gouvernement Barnier est le nouvel épisode. “La France danse au bord du volcan”, s’inquiète la presse allemande qui compare la situation à celle de la Grèce en 2010, un État lourdement endetté avec un appareil politique dysfonctionnel. D’une manière générale, l’Europe et Bruxelles redoutent une instabilité politique française sans fin, qui affaiblirait par effet domino l’Union européenne. Nous recevons l’artiste et performeuse italienne Romina De Novellis. Sa dernière performance baptisée “Star - 100 % d’origine italienne” a eu lieu le 22 novembre au Centre Pompidou, à Paris. Elle y dénonce la corruption des systèmes de l’agro-mafia qui se cache derrière la production de tomates en Italie. Son œuvre est le fruit d’une longue période d’enquête dans les Pouilles, menée par l’artiste qui est aussi anthropologue de formation. Valérie Brochard nous donne des nouvelles de nos chers voisins belges. Depuis le 1er décembre, les droits des travailleurs et travailleuses du sexe sont régis par un contrat de travail, après une loi adoptée en mai par le Parlement. La Belgique, qui avait déjà décriminalisé la prostitution en 2022, devient le premier pays au monde à accorder un véritable statut aux personnes l’exerçant. Jean-Mathieu Pernin zappe sur la télévision américaine qui réagit à la grâce présidentielle accordée par Joe Biden à son fils Hunter Biden. Il attendait de connaître sa peine dans des affaires de détention illégale d'armes à feu et de fraude fiscale. Cette décision pourrait-elle affaiblir le camp démocrate ? Ce week-end, Olivier Boucreux décerne le titre d’employé de la semaine au prince héritier d’Arabie saoudite, Mohammed Ben Salman, qui a reçu Emmanuel Macron cette semaine. En 2018, la communauté internationale s’était émue de l’assassinat du journaliste Jamal Khashoggi dans le consulat saoudien d’Istanbul mais, en 2024, celui que l’on surnome “MBS”, semble réhabilité. Paola Puerari se demande pourquoi traverser au feu rouge est une habitude dans certains pays (comme la France) et pas du tout dans d’autres (comme le Japon). Est-ce une affaire de culture ? Enfin, ne manquez pas la question très intéressante de David Castello-Lopes qui se demande comment rendre les moustiques plus acceptables.28 Minutes est le magazine d’actualité d’ARTE, présenté par Elisabeth Quin du lundi au jeudi à 20h05. Renaud Dély est aux commandes de l'émission le vendredi et le samedi. Ce podcast est coproduit par KM et ARTE Radio. Enregistrement 07 décembre 2024 Présentation Renaud Dely Production KM, ARTE Radio
"Merde". C'est le titre de l'édition de cette semaine du grand hebdomadaire britannique que les décideurs dévorent les jeudi, The Economist. Car la France, poids lourd de l'Union européenne avec l'Allemagne, s'est encore un peu plus enfoncée cette semaine dans la crise politique.Mercredi soir, le gouvernement de Michel Barnier a été renversé, une première depuis plus de soixante ans, à quatre jours de la réinauguration en grande pompe de Notre Dame de Paris… en présence de plusieurs dizaines de chefs d'Etat. Sans gouvernement, et sans nouveau budget pour 2025, le pays s'enfonce dans l'incertitude, même si le président de la République Emmanuel Macron a tenté de rassurer jeudi soir, en promettant la nomination rapide d'un nouveau Premier ministre.Pour comprendre comment on en est arrivé là, Sur le Fil a invité Sophie Deviller, cheffe adjointe du service politique de l'AFP, Ali Bekhtaoui, journaliste au service économique, et Hervé Rouach, qui dirige le service politique, pour une analyse à chaud après l'allocution présidentielle de jeudi soir.Réalisation : Michaëla Cancela-KiefferSur le Fil est le podcast quotidien de l'AFP. Vous avez des commentaires ? Ecrivez-nous à podcast@afp.com. Vous pouvez aussi nous envoyer une note vocale par Whatsapp au + 33 6 79 77 38 45. Si vous aimez, abonnez-vous, parlez de nous autour de vous et laissez-nous plein d'étoiles sur votre plateforme de podcasts préférée pour mieux faire connaître notre programme Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Pour aider ses poulains à se dépasser et à donner le meilleur d'eux-mêmes, Max leur apprend à injurier et agresser leurs adversaires.La Chute de LapinvilleLapin, pervers narcissique en fin de droits, raconte son retour à Lapinville et sa décision de faire un podcast pour se venger de ses anciens camarades d’école. Il est bientôt rejoint par Chloé Bloomington, star de cinéma qu’une énorme shitstorm oblige à revenir dans sa ville natale pour jouer dans une fiction quotidienne à la con. Puis, on suit l’enquête de Spiruline, astucieuse stagiaire à la mairie, qui dévoilera des scandales insoupçonnés dans les plus hautes sphères de Lapinville… Tour à tour, les Lapinvillois témoignent pour essayer de comprendre comment, une chose en entraînant une autre, ils ont fini par provoquer la destruction de la Terre. Leurs destins entremêlés forment une pelote visible de l’espace dont cette série, cinq minutes par jour, va dérouler le fil.Fresque épique et palpitante, chronique de la catastrophe en cours et de ses ramifications les plus inattendues, La Chute de Lapinville a pu être décrite comme une variante des Simpson à la sauce rond-point ou un jumeau maléfique de Plus belle la vie. Enregistrements décembre 2023-2024 Scénario et dialogues Benjamin Abitan, Wladimir Anselme, Laura Fredducci Direction artistique Benjamin Abitan Réalisation Arnaud Forest Assistante réalisation Alexandra Garcia-Vilà Illustration Roxane Lumeret Comédiens principaux Gabriel Dahmani (Max), Samuel Roger (Sarkis Mikaëlian), Laure Franquès (Manon Ubaldi), Catherine Pavet (Evelyne), Majda Abdelmalek (Technicienne 2), Jean-Edouard Bodziak (Rico), Etienne Parc (Etienne) Production ARTE Radio, ARTE Studio, Virginie Lacoste, Sahar Pirouz, Jacques Falgous Musiques Samuel Hirsch
We discuss the coup that was Kamala Harris rising to the Democrats nominee with out going through the primary process and how Joe Biden got ousted. It was weird, but silent coups are what the US is known for. The Olympics are in France and caused an incredible amount of contraversay with a very suggestive and for some very offensive opening ceremonies. Lots to discuss as we get closer to the election and in some ways the days get darker. Think Critically, Act Accordingly. Oh and JD Vance might have hs sex with a couch and we tried to hook up Jefe with prison chicks. Recorded 7/27/24Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/whiskey-hell-podcast--5683729/support.
Laura Domenge est humoriste comédienne et autrice. Vous avez peut-être entendu l'une de ses chroniques sur France Inter dans la Bande Originale, ou sur Teva dans l'émission Piquantes… Depuis 2022, son spectacle « Une nuit avec Laura Domenge » fait salle comble, et ce n'est pas sa grossesse qui va freiner son envie d'incarner tous les personnages et tous les rôles qu'elle s'invente. Enceinte de 7 mois et demi, elle a écrit « Bonne Mère »un spectacle éphémère, pour parler de ses folles projections de mère, de parentalité et de féminisme : une performance à voir en replay sur Teva absolument, en particulier si, comme elle, vous êtes à quelques jours du terme et que vous avez envie de tout lâcher… On la rencontre juste avant ce grand saut, pour lui demander ce que signifie vraiment pour elle être une « bonne mère »… Laura Domenge Comédienne, humoriste et chroniqueuse (Piquantes sur Teva, la Bande Originale sur France Inter), Laura Domenge a commencé le théâtre professionnel à 10 ans. Formée à l'école Charles Dullin et au Conservatoire d'art dramatique du 5ème arrondissement de Paris, elle se met très vite à écrire ses spectacles et se fait remarquer pour sa plume et son humour cinglant. Elle a publié aux éditions First « Merci Fallait Pas : le Sexisme expliqué à ma Belle Mère » et « Bonne Nuit de Merde » et participé à l'écriture de la cérémonie des Molières. Plus d'infos : https://www.lauradomenge.com/agenda/ « Bonne mère » disponible en replay ici « Une nuit avec » , en tournée et au Théâtre de l'Oeuvre dès le 21 octobre Pour la suivre sur Instagram : @laura_domenge Vous nous écoutez tous les mois ? Partagez avec nous votre commentaire avec 5 étoiles sur votre appli podcast : votre avis aide le podcast à remonter dans le classement, à vivre et à s'enrichir de nouveaux épisodes. Pour proposer un sujet ou un témoignage, écrivez à Marine sur contact@leslouves.com.
Hello, and welcome back to another episode of the French Blabla podcast! I'm Caroline, your host. Today, we're about to unwrap two cheeky and somewhat controversial gems from the French linguistic treasure chest. These expressions are quintessential to everyday French banter, often sparking raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. We're going to explore "putain" and "merde," two swear words in French that are sure to ring a bell if you've spent any time on social media watching humorous language learning videos. As we delve into these popular swear words in French, remember the cultural depth and emotional weight they carry in the French language. With today's episode, you'll understand not just the translations but the appropriate contexts to use these colorful expressions without offending native speakers. Let's embark on this vocabulary journey with a light heart and a mind open to the intriguing world of casual French. Later in the episode, I'll also introduce you to our sponsor, but first, let's dive into the linguistic nuances. In this episode Mastering Usage: Learn how and when to appropriately use "putain" and "merde" in daily conversation without crossing the line. Contextual Flexibility: Discover the versatility of these swear words from expressing frustration to amazement, and how their impact changes with tone and setting. Cultural Insights: Gain insights into the cultural acceptance of these phrases and why context matters so much in French discourse. What I mentioned in this episode: Episode 23 - Two MORE fillers you haven't learnt at school: Click to listen Episode 60 - Weird Sounds French people Make - Click to listen "Plan Coeur - The Hookup Plan" - TV Show - Click to check the trailer on Youtube Try Lingopie for free - Get 70% off on the Lifetime Plan - Click HERE Useful Episode Resources Grab today's goodie here. FREE audio training to help you understand spoken French Want to understand when French people speak? Sound more natural? Have a better and smoother pronunciation? Well, you can do that with this free audio training. It will give you the tips and secrets to speak more like a native. Grab your FREE training here. Subscribe and review The French Blabla Podcast Thanks so much for tuning into the podcast! If you enjoyed this episode and love the show, I'd really appreciate you subscribing and leaving me a review on your favourite podcast player. Not only does it let me know you're out there listening, but your feedback helps me to keep creating the most useful episodes. And you know what? I also get to be discovered by more awesome people like you!
Wistful remembrances of days gone by. Games we played this week include: Another Crab's Treasure (5:50) Slime 3K (28:55) Stellar Blade (40:35) Harold Halibut (51:40) Fallout (57:55) Balatro (1:04:30) --- News things talked about in this episode: ReedPop consolidating UK events EGX and MCM (1:07:35) https://www.eurogamer.net/egx-and-mcm-team-up-for-london-2024-dates Nintendo reportedly would have let Samus be in Fortnite, but only for Switch players (54:15) https://www.eurogamer.net/samus-skipped-fortnite-because-nintendo-got-really-hung-up-about-its-characters-on-other-platforms Embracer reorganizing into three companies (1:15:30) https://www.gamesindustry.biz/embracer-group-splits-into-three-everything-you-need-to-know World of Warcraft adding arachnophobia mode ahead of introducing arachnid characters (1:21:05) https://www.gameshub.com/news/news/world-of-warcraft-arachnophobia-mode-2639255/ --- Buy official Jimquisition merchandise at https://thejimporium.com Find Laura at LauraKBuzz on Twitter, Twitch, YouTube, and Patreon. All her content goes on https://LauraKBuzz.com, and you can catch Access-Ability on YouTube every Friday. Follow Conrad at ConradZimmerman on Twitter/Instagram/BlueSky and check out his Patreon (https://patreon.com/fistshark). You can also peruse his anti-capitalist propaganda at https://mercenarycreative.com. Photo Credit: Ian Line / CC BY-NC 2.0 DEED
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